The World As It Should Have Been
by angeldreamerphantom
Summary: Erick longed for her, Raoul was engaged to her, but Christine could never get her angel out of her mind, he had been her protector, whom did she really love? EC pairing, no Raoul bashing...hey they all loved somebody! My first FanFic, reviews please!
1. The game past the point of no return

First, note that in this continuation, the Phantom has terrorized plenty of people, but did not commit murder. This choice was made to develop the plot in a different way, and remove the criminal element from the ensuing complications.

Chapter 1 The game..past the point of no return.

Christine waited on the side stage anxious, terrified, and strangely excited as she was about to give the performance of her life in the Phantom's first formal composition. Filled with apprehension because of what had happened over the past few months. The confusing twists and turns of emotions and life.

When autumn fell just months ago, she was merely a chorus girl. So insignificant that she might have been a prop on the stage. Now, she was the center of attention, engaged to Raoul. So much rested on her shoulders. Tension in her jaw, back screaming in pain, mostly from the stiffening of her muscles at every sound. She had to remind herself to breathe.

Her eyes hungrily scanned the box where Raoul sat keeping a watchful eye. Briefly comforted by his reassuring smile, but even that was fleeting. She couldn't help looking up in the rafters where all of the curtains and sets descended as if from the mystery of the sky. So much had happened in those rafters. The accidental death of Joseph Buquet as he ran in terror at the site of the Phantom. The near miss with Carlotta the day that the new owners Andre and Firmin took over….the day she first gazed on her Vicomte, dear, dear, Raoul. Her eyes quickly ran the length of the catwalks far above her head. Nothing, she breathed a small sigh of relief.

The theater was nearly full now, the flickering lights indicating the opera would begin in three minutes time. Don Juan Triumphant. What did this mean? How would this play out? Where would the Phantom appear? Was he lurking in the shadows, under a trap door, cleverly hung inside one of the thick curtains, planning to swoop in and grab her like a bat? The utter thoughts sent a shiver up her spine. She wished that she was back in the solitude of the cellar chapel being comforted and reassured by Raoul. But that would only delay the inevitable. She bit her lip trying to stifle the flittering in her stomach.

Meg approached from behind her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright Christine?" Christine startled at Meg's touch, turning to smile at her nervously, apologizing for jumping. "Meg, I'm frightened. See my hands are cold" Christine reached out and placed her hands in Meg's. Meg said "and your face is white, just as it was the first night you told me about your great tutor." Meg smiled, "It will all be over soon, and you and your love will be reunited to live with joy, happiness, and relief."

With that Meg left Christine's side, flitting off to her place behind the curtain on the stage.

Christine was ever grateful for Meg. She had been the only family that Christine had really known since her father died. Madame Giry had taken her in, raising her nearly as her own daughter. Meg had accepted her as a sister, not by blood, but by heart. They shared so many things, played together, laughed together, cried together.

Christine felt as though she had grown ten years in the last weeks. Suddenly seeing some of her youthful naivety pass from her. Christine looked up at Raoul who was talking seriously to one of the guards. She thought of the time she spent with Raoul in the attic at the house by the sea. They had stayed up many nights reading stories and eating chocolates from the box that Raoul always seemed to have under his cloak when he came for a visit. Even though there were a few years between them, he had always struck her as handsome, and most definitely charming. They had truly been childhood sweethearts. She glanced once more at Raoul who was scanning the theater to be certain that their plan was in place. He caught Christine's gaze and nodded in assurance.

Deep in thought, Christine gazed out across the audience at some distant, non-descript point. The orchestra began to play as the lights dimmed one last time, signaling they were about to begin. The trap was set for the Phantom….her Phantom, her friend, her guardian, her guide, her Angel of Music. She choked back her doubt, knowing what she had to do.

Raoul had been her childhood sweetheart, but somewhere deep inside, in places she had scarcely known existed, she knew that the Angel had been the love of her life, her awakening as a woman. He brought out the best part of her. Now she had to betray him.

She felt dizzy as the realization of the responsibility came down on her. She had to do it for all the right reasons, but her heart tore at the thought of the final betrayal of the one soul that had cared for her, loved her unconditionally.

He had listened to her tears, comforted her fears, taught her, guided her, …loved her. The ultimate betrayal in this world that had offered little but cruelty to such a genius. A lump caught in Christine's she do that to someone who loved her so much, had cared for her so much, to someone that she….she…the curtain raised, and she was exposed for all the world to see. It had come…the point of no return.


	2. Don Juan Triumphant

Chapter 2 Don Juan Triumphant

Christine shuddered at the sudden rush of heat from the floor lamps that burst into flame to illuminate the stage. Briefly reminding her of the words the Phamtom had sung to her the night she first visited his lair… "Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation, darkness stirs and wakes imagination, silently the senses, abandon their defenses…" how true those words were, they had haunted her since that night. She could think of little else. Her senses were so heightened at this moment, she felt as though she would shatter into a million fragments if someone dared brush against her.

She was quickly brought to reality, the stage flooding with clamoring dancers, and…Carlotta. Carlotta came close enough with her enormous gown to nearly topple Christine from her feet, taunting her. What simple pleasure Carlotta took in seeing the terror in Christine's eyes.

The music surrounded her as though a thick, hot, wet, veil had been tossed upon them all. She brought her hand to her chest, hoping to quell the thumping of her breaking heart.

The music was dark, sinister, so unlike anything she had ever heard her tutor play. He had always been so gentle, so melodic. The music that radiated this night was dark and powerful, somehow purposeful.

The stage seemed strange and menacing, looking like what she imagined of hell. Draped by thick red over-sized velvet curtains, bathed in red paint with peels of flames running up the walls. A commanding fire took center stage, dancing tauntingly at all who dared look upon it.

The words of the music were direct, each pawn artfully playing their part. Christine's pulse quickened as she heard Piangi sing his final line, signaling her entrance. "If I do not forget myself I'd laugh"

In one swift second, he disappeared behind the curtain. It was time. She had no idea how far this would all play out. Would he appear as she began to sing? Had he observed the readying of the theater with armed guards? Would he not show himself, but observe undetected, taking the opportunity at the end when the opera drew to a close? Too much, too much….she felt faint again.

Christine shook her head, quickly regaining control as she had been taught. No, no, I've got to go on. Angel had coached her about stage fright. How to make herself feel as though it was just the two of them in the darkness and privacy of the cellar where he had met her every day since he first came to her. Swallowing hard, she fought back the urge to run from the stage so as to spare herself and her tutor from this horror. The little girl within her crying out no, no, no. She had become the hope of the evening, of the Opera Populaire. Meg, Madame Giry, dear Raoul, the others she had performed with, ate with, lived with. They were all counting on her to play her part and put this madness to an end once and for all.

Carefully, gracefully, with all the poise of a perfected ballerina, she moved toward center stage. He heart beating wildly as she allowed the first words to escape between her bitterly betraying lips. "No thoughts within her head but thoughts of joy, no dreams within her heart but dreams of love." Her voice trailed off.

She didn't move, she heard him…but from where? Did everyone else hear him? Was his voice inside her mind? No, she heard his pure, powerful voice. Now, she didn't even need to look, she knew. He was on the stage with her. So bold, so clever, so powerful. Where had Piangi gone? Then she heard him begin… "You have come here, in pursuit of your deepest urge, in pursuit of that wish which till now has been silent…silent."

Christine eyes widened. She couldn't help it, she felt drawn to his presence, enraptured by his voice. This wasn't the voice of her tutor, this was the voice that had ignited passion in her heart, in her soul for the very first time. This voice was different, not the voice of a teacher, but of a lover.

"I have brought you, that our passions may fuse and merge, in your mind you've already succumbed to me, dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me, now you are here with me, no second thoughts, you've decided,..decided."

Christine could feel the pull of his mesmerizing voice surrounding her, awakening that deep warmth within her.. as it did when they had been alone in his lair.

She loved Raoul for all the worldly reasons. He had been respectful, with gentle kisses and fond embraces. But never had he made her feel the way she felt at that moment. The Phantom's voice enraptured her.

"Past the point of no return, no backward glances, our games of make believe are at an end. Past no thought of if or when, no use resisting, abandon thought and let the dream descend."

He was behind her now, embracing her as he had that first night, pressing her up against him. She was leaning into him as if being drawn by a magnetic force beyond her control.

"What raging fires shall flood the soul, what rich desire unlocks it's door, what sweet seduction lies before us. Past the point of no return, the final threshold, what warm unspoken secrets will we learn beyond the point of no return."

Christine turned to face him now. Bursting into song, as if in an automatic, subconscious response to him, not as lines that had been rehearsed. The words seemed strange to her, as if he had known she could not resist him.

She felt fully a woman, the very words that rolled from her tongue were one's of seduction, of yearning, of yielding.

Erick was entranced. Realizing she was singing his words, responding to Erick the man, not the monster that everyone else saw. He felt drawn to her. As they parted and walked slowly, but with purpose, toward the staircases on either side of the enormous flame. The raging fire which represented the passion he felt for her. He had never seen her like this before, and he could not take his eyes from her.

They mounted the stairs, one by one, as she sang each word with the yearning that he felt in the very depths of his soul. He gazed at her across the stage with desperate longing. They were rising step by step in unison.

Erick drinking in the sweet nectar of her voice, of the emotions that were boiling over from her soul. Could it be true? Could she really have chosen him? Could she have decided…was she past the point of no return? His heart beat madly at the mere possibility of it. Could their unrequited love bloom to life? She was no longer the innocent child he had guided, but a woman who was seducing him.

At the top of their winding staircases, they were facing one another now, the last shred of distance lay between them. He reeled in the thought of what was to come, the final threshold to be crossed. She was facing him, looking at him, only him. Her face and eyes glowing not only with the reflection of the flames far below, but of the desire within. "How long should we to wait until we're one, when will the blood begin to race, when will the bud burst into bloom, when will the flames at last consume us?"

Their voices blended in a hypnotic dance as they were drawn to each other by the enormous force of the moment. The audience held its breath, captivated by the intensity, enthralled by the immeasurable passion.

Raoul's eyes were brimming with tears. Never having seen Christine like this. He thought of her as complete innocence. Only a husband should see this passion, stir this passion…. had he been a fool? Had Christine given her childish heart to him, but her soul to another? He could hardly bare to watch. It was at his own request that Christine was there, he had begged her to do it. His soul could not bare such anguish.

Meg and Madame Giry stood far below, the two gasping. Madame Giry had rescued both Christine and Erick. How could she choose whom to save? Could she? Erick's tempers, his need for solitude, for absolute control. Christine had such a promising future at the Opera Populaire, she loved her as a daughter. Could these two souls survive against such odds, survive in the reality of the world they would have to live in? She could only stand by and watch helplessly now as they forged their own destiny. "Erick!" His name escaping her in a mournful, pleading cry.

He looked down, horror filling his eyes. His name now known by all who heard her.

The last words uttered, they finally embraced Erick turning Christine so her back was pressed firmly against him, his arms circling her around the shoulders as if to protect and accept her.

"Past the point of no return, the final threshold….we've passed the point of no return." In the silence, he could feel her heart beating as if her chest would explode. Her lungs heaving from the labor of her breathing.

Christine turned to face him, never leaving his arms. They embraced as lovers would when they had decided to surrender to each other completely.

There was no question in the minds of anyone who saw them. The lion and the lamb had found each other in an embrace.

Christine felt the strength and warmth of Erick's body pressed against her. His arms wrapped firmly around her. His breath on her skin. His hands now gently caressing the length of her neck. She no longer trembled. She found herself lost in the overwhelming euphoria of his touch. The hushed whisper of his voice on her cheek.

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime, lead me, save me from my solitude, say you want me with you here beside you.." Erick looked deeply into Christine's eyes "anywhere you go, let me go too, Christine, that's… all… I… ask…of… you."

Christine was in the arms of her angel of music, looking into his eyes. She could scarcely believe it. His pleading eyes, filled with love, passion, needing of acceptance, of true love, the love he had never felt, that had never been returned.

Reaching up with her hands she gently caressed his neck. He was handsome to her despite his fleshly flaws. She knew she could remove his mask, taking him off guard so as to aid in his capture. He would be killed like a wild animal would be that happened to wander into a town or farmyard. She gazed deeply into Erick's eyes, her hands moving slowly up the back of his neck and rounding the curves of his jaw, until his face was fully in her hands.

She felt him tremble Looking into those deep dark pools of blue and green, she felt herself drowning. In that instant, she knew that she was no longer Little Lottie, she was a woman. A woman who loved an imperfect creature, and had been loved by him too.

Christine closed her eyes once more as Erick pulled her even closer to him. Gently reaching out her lips until they met his. A sudden rush, a release of adrenaline coursed through her. She could feel Erick's response and the warmth of his tears on her cheek. She had denied him twice before, had turned from his true beauty, his pure love, his genius. But now as they claimed each other in a proper kiss, they displayed for all the world to see…passion, love, in their raw, pure, form.

The theater was silent, the orchestra stopped playing. In that moment Christine's intentions were made plain.

Raoul shrieked from the balcony "take him now." The theater tossed suddenly into chaos. Dancers ran from the stage, guests clamored for the doors, knocking one another to the ground in the ensuing confusion. Armed guards rushed in from every entrance.

Erick looked about the theater sensing there was no way out and knowing that the world would never accept their newest diva choosing to love a beast. Raoul was climbing down the ropes and drapery that hung from box 5, Erick's box 5.

Erick glanced at Christine who had begun to pull away as the gravity of the situation rose to her consciousness. Terror filling her eyes. She was afraid, he knew that, but was it of him or the events to come? There was no time for contemplation, he must act swiftly or they would be parted forever.

He reached out and firmly grasped Christine about the waist, flinging his cloak around them both. Pulling her close to his torso to protect her. He looked down one last time into Christine's pleading eyes and said those words that had so long been danced around but never uttered "Christine I love you." He said lips trembling. She looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks, "Erick, I know" she said, and then buried her head in his chest.

With that the Phantom reached out and pulled the first of two ropes that had been carefully placed just the night before. The first releasing the grand chandelier from it's permanent home on the filigreed ceiling of the theater. It began to sway under the enormous weight of the cut crystals as it made its' fateful descent toward the stage.

The element of confusion, distraction, disaster, Erick had envisioned. With one more flip of his wrist he tugged the second rope. Before either of them could catch their breath, the floor beneath them gave way. They were dropping through the air, down into the flames.

Raoul was just reaching the stage, jumping the last ten feet to the floor as he saw Christine disappear. Rushing toward the pit of fire that had just swallowed his betrothed whole. His mind raced as the trapdoor slapped shut. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the chandelier diving towards him. Leaping out of the way just as it came crashing down into the first rows of the seats, toppling over onto the stage, igniting everything in its path. He jumped back as curtains and cushions burst into flame, and shards of a million pounds of flying crystal were illuminated to brilliance by the raging glow.

Raoul was on his knees, gasping for air, face beaded with sweat from the heat. She had been right! Panic quickly overtaking him. She had pleaded with him not to make her do this. But why would she go with him…couldn't she escape his grasp? Christine must have done so only to spare her life. In his wildest imagination he could find not one reason she would choose that monster over him. His intervention had been too late. Now he would have to hunt them down…to save her…to free her… He had made a promise to her that very day in the cellar. Nothing would stop him, even if it cost him his very life.


	3. Descending hearts make others bleed

Chapter 3 Descending hearts make others bleed

Through all of the confusion, Madame Giry stayed frozen in place, as if her feet were fused to the floor. She could neither help, nor alter the events that unfolded. She had rescued him all those long years ago. He'd known no life, no compassion outside of the little she had shown him. She had kept him clothed and fed. Delivered things he needed to designated places, kept his secrets hidden from the world.

She loved him as a brother but now wasn't sure if she could, or should protect him. Raoul knew now. She shook her head, the anguish obvious on her face. How could she ever forgive herself for telling him. He had convinced her that Erick's genius had turned to madness the night Joseph Buquet died. Now his identity was exposed and Raoul'l knew.

Raoul wailed, drawing his sword, raising it to the sky. "Why did I make her do this?" He lowered his hand, his body began to wrench as he sobbed. Madame Giry walked over to him. His anger swelled as he felt her presence. Reeling around on the heels of his boots, he flashed the sword, certain the Phantom had come back to vanquish him. "Madame Giry!" Raoul gasped.

Where has he taken her?" "Monsieur, I do not know." She replied. "Yes.. yes, you do. You found me that night of the masquerade when he used one of his trap doors. You must know where this one leads."

Madame Giry looked away, confused, afraid. "I cannot help you." She said, with doubt in her voice that was obvious even to her.

"Madame Giry, if you have ever cared for me, or for Christine, please help me find her. She begged me not to make her do this, she was afraid he would take her, and she was right." Raoul hung his head and staggered a few steps away. "I delayed to react when it was happening, and now she is gone. If I'd done what I promised, he would be dead by now and Christine would be back safely in my arms." Raoul sobbed, speaking through his tears he said "my hesitation gave that beast the opportunity to escape, for that, I'll not forgive myself. I promised to keep her safe, to guide her to guard her, and I have failed." Raoul began to cry bitterly now, dropping down first to his knees and then lurching forward on his hands, shaking his head as though he had been poisoned.

Madame Giry was confused. Turning away, she tried in vain to catch her breath. She paused, letting out one long sigh. If what he said was true, she would be condemning Christine to a fate she had not wanted. "I will take you to him…but you must always be on your guard and keep your hand at the level of your eyes."


	4. The unthinkable loss

Chapter 4 The unthinkable loss

Christine could feel the wind rushing past her, her dress fluttering in the air, the edges of the Phantom's cape beating against her leg. It was as if they were falling forever, with no bottom to catch them. The only security she felt was being held in the arms of her guide, her guardian, her angel. She could feel the beating of his chest against her cheek as she held onto him with the grip of death, and he onto her. It was all surreal, a dream she couldn't wake from. Hours earlier she had begged Raoul to save her from this fate, and told him that what she once dreamed she now dreaded. It was fate, she knew it had to be. Fate a force so powerful, none could stop it. She had succumbed to it.

Erick was curling his torso, wrapping his legs around Christine's, trying to estimate how they would land. Whatever else happened, he wanted to cushion her fall. He knew the many bails of hay that lay beneath them would break their fall so that life and limb would be spared.

He had wished, dared to dream that he would have Christine in his arms at last, but hadn't planned on taking her down this rugged escape. His own bodily harm didn't concern him, but he hadn't anticipated having to protect her from such a fall. He was accustomed to it, trained for it, but she would have no idea what to expect.

The longing, the anticipation, the adrenaline rushing through him as he felt her in his arms at last. The sharp flash of light shown past his eyes and he knew it was just a story more and they would land in the fresh pile of hay. He grasped her more tightly about the waist and curved himself as much as his skeleton would allow, wrenching around so that his back faced directly toward their target.

With a loud thud they hit bottom. The force knocking the wind out of Erick, and no doubt out of Christine as well. They lay still for a few seconds before he could breathe. Christine had not moved a muscle. He looked down and over the large lump beneath his cape and gasped as it remained motionless.

He moved ever so slightly to the side as if trying to slip from under a sleeping baby, daring not to wake it. He lifted first one flap. Still no movement. Then the other flap. There she lay against his chest eyes closed, and motionless.

NO! NO! God no! He had to check. He placed his hand slightly on her chest. He could feel nothing. Not wanting to delve his hand under her garments, he placed his hand near her mouth to feel for a breath. Holding it there for a few seconds. Nothing….NO! NO! NO! He had meant to save her, to love her, to bring her into his world, not take her from this one.

Slipping out from underneath her, he gently laid her in the hay. He jumped up, standing over her motionless frame. Even in this dimness and position she was still the most exquisite creature he had ever laid eyes upon. To harm such a delicate treasure was unthinkable.

He reeled a few feet away, looking down at her, grasping the length of his hair in his hands as if the very tension and pain of his pulling would provide some relief from this horror. "Christine…Christine…." His voice trailed off as the tears began to roll down his cheek.

He laid down next to her body, still warm to the touch. He could live no longer in this world if he had taken the one thing of true beauty out of it.


	5. Without regard to life or consequence

Chapter 5 Without regard to life or consequence

Erick, reaching over slipped his hand under Christine's neck, cradling her in his arms. As he shifted her torso, he heard a sudden rush of air come from her throat. Her chest heaved forcefully as she gasped for breath. Erick grabbed her shoulders, lifting her into his arms as he knelt in the straw. She was limp, her breathing shallow, but there none-the-less.

He looked down at her now resting in his arms. Her eyes opened slightly. To see the glimmer of ocean blue beneath her lashes was all he could hope for.

Her lips shuddered as she tried to speak, Erick shook his head and whispered to her "shhh…hush now…I'll bring you some relief, try not to speak, it will only drain you further my dear." She rested her cheek against his bare chest.

In one swift motion he lifted her completely into his arms and he was on his feet. There was much to be done, and he feared little time to do it. No doubt the Vicomte would already be looking for her, if he hadn't lost his life in the fire.

XXXXXX

Madame Giry led Raoul by the hand quickly to the back dressing room. One wing of the theater that hadn't been touched yet by the hungry fire. In the confusion, no one seemed to notice the two slip in the door and lock it behind them.

Madame Giry's breath caught in her throat, she was about to expose one of Erick's main travel corridors. She was nervous knowing that if he had survived, this would make him vulnerable, findable. Breathing deeply, she looked around to make certain there were no others in the room hiding. "I am taking you to a place very dark, which scarce few dared venture. You will have to adjust your eyes to see in the failing light as there is none there to guide you. There are many twists and turns and secret passages that may hold more danger than you ever imagined. The soul that you seek guards his privacy ferociously, and without regard to life or consequence. If you agree to do this, you must never pass this way again, or share its location with anyone." She looked sternly into Raoul's eyes, silently demanding an answer before she would move one step further.

Raoul looked at her, confusion on his face. He hurriedly agreed, not really knowing an alternative, or understanding why it must be secret now. Taking him by the hand again, she slid the mirrored door to the side. Raoul's eyes grew wide at the thought of the secret panel and transparent mirror. How many times had that beast gazed on his Christine unaware?

The thought of it made him even more determined to press on through the darkness. He clenched his jaw and stepped through the doorway with madame Giry. He was now past the point of no return, and he wasn't coming back without Christine.


	6. Sweet Acceptance

Chapter 6 Sweet acceptance

Erick marveled at how light she felt in his arms. She was trembling, and still her breathing was shallow. He spread part of his cape around her body, providing some shield to the cool dampness that came as he descended. His own body ached from the impact of the fall, but he couldn't stop to think about what might be bruised or battered now.

Moving swiftly down the stairs, through each corridor, at last at his boat. He leapt into it. Briefly losing his footing as the boat lurched from the sudden disturbance in it's resting place. Erick stumbled a moment before regaining his balance. Christine didn't seem to notice, she still lay quietly in his arms. He shifted her body to the bottom of the boat, his cloak lying under her to provide some cushion against the scruffy surface of the wood.

Grabbing the pole he propelled his craft through the murky waters. Erick glanced around to see if there was anything else he should take with him, knowing that if by chance someone found their way down this far, he would not want to provide them with any assistance in passage. Satisfied that there was nothing else, he continued, thrusting the boat gently forward through the mist filled darkness.

Erick was scared, exhilarated, and confused, all at once. Normally he was the hunter, not the hunted. Normally his interactions with other humans came in the form of near misses, or in encounters that he had elaborately orchestrated. For the first time in many years, he felt out of control.

His presence had never been as obvious as it had been that night. He had revealed himself to the world. A myth or a legend, question no longer existed. He was not an apparition; he was a man, a man now wanted for destruction and abduction.

The quiet of the darkness soothed his jagged nerves. The only sound he could hear now was the swish of the water that passed beneath the boat. His Christine was lying still beneath his cloak. The utter amazement nearly took his breath away. She had chosen him. When her true emotions were brought to the surface, she had chosen him. She hadn't gazed upon him as a monster, a repulsive carcass, for she knew full well what lay behind that mask. In spite of the flaws of his flesh, she had chosen him.

The length of the river had been quickly managed. Passing the final turn, he pushed the discretely hidden lever to raise the gate at the entrance of his lair. Gliding the boat through the porticos, and towards the shore of his theater. The last time he had brought Christine to this shore, she had sat in awe of him, in reverence of him, drinking him in with her eyes for the very first time, taking him into every pore of her with amazement. How strange now, he thought, to bring her here barely conscious and motionless. Hidden beneath his garment in the boat.

Erick pushed the boat onto the shore, scraping the bottom of it slightly on the jagged rock. Kneeling, he carefully slid his arms beneath Christine, scooping her into them. He stepped out of the boat and carried her to the bed he had prepared for her so many months ago.

A swan lying in a swan, how appropriate he thought. He had carved the bed with his own hands, and procured the red silk sheets that lay over the feather bed. He had hung the dark veil around the bed to offer Christine some privacy and shield from the cool drafts that often wafted through the caverns. As he laid her ever so gently in the bed, he felt the warmth of her body depart from his torso, and it grieved him slightly to let her go. He carefully began to remove the cloak from her face and in its place provide a more proper covering. As he slid the warm, thick, blanket over her, he gazed on her beauty. The soft brown tendrils that surrounded her angelic face, the tender lips, parted slightly drawing in shallow breaths. He reached down and brushed the hair off of her forehead.

Christine stirred, her eyes began to flitter. A tear drew in Erick's eye as he knelt down beside her caressing her cheek. Christine opened her eyes squinting into the golden light of the candle filled room. She took in a sharp breath, looking wide-eyed up at Erick. She felt no fear of him, but was feeling somewhat faint and reeling in all that had just transpired.

"Christine…" Erick let her name drop from his lips in a whisper. She gazed deep into the twin oceans of the fiery blue and green of Erick's eyes. She saw the deep concern in them, and yet the hopeful longings of a soul that had been alone far too long. She studied the curves of his face, the strength of his jaw line. She took in all of his handsomeness as though she was seeing it for the very first time. Indeed, in a way she was. She was looking at him with completely new eyes. No longer afraid, no longer confused, no longer wanting. She had chosen him…him in all of his dark glory. Her guide, her guardian, her mentor….her angel of music…..her one true love.

She tried to raise her head as if to speak. Erick gently touched her lips with the pads of his fingertips telling her in his way, to save her strength. Smiling sweetly, but with an insistence he could not resist, she raised her head again, reaching out a weary arm to pull him to her. She looked deep into his eyes as she brought her lips close to his, uttering the words he had so longed to hear… "I love you too." Her lips pressing slowly and quietly against his.

Erick pulled away just far enough to look into her eyes, slowly opening to meet his. "Christine…." He pulled her up into his arms, holding her as he sat on the edge of her bed. So long he had denied that anyone could ever love him. Least of all this angel. They embraced as she buried her head in his neck. Clinging to him, she began to cry, tears flowing freely onto his exposed flesh.

He was holding her head, the thick curls of her hair woven between his fingers. With the other hand he caressed her back. Feeling the warmth of her tears on his skin, he pulled her away from him, one hand around her back and under her arms, the other pulling her chin up from his chest.

Their eyes met once again, and the tears that were running down Christine's face quickly mingled with Erick's own, blending as they ran down the length of his chest. Their eyes fixed on one another, exchanging thoughts, hopes, and dreams without a word. Speaking volumes with no sound, mountains moving with no utterance.

Erick took her face gently in one hand and lifted it towards his. Without hesitation she responded, closing her eyes only half way so as not to break their gaze. His lips brushed hers, first so lightly that it was barely a kiss. She leaned into him accepting his invitation. Their lips met with pent up passion suddenly being unleashed with abandon. Erick felt as if he were soaring. He had Christine in his arms, and she accepted him, loved him, wanted…HIM.

Christine was alive, as though for the first time. She could barely believe that these emotions had escaped her, that she had denied them, suppressed them, avoided them for so long.

These were the sweetest moments those stony walls had ever sheltered in the many years that they had been home to the Angel of Music. The kiss was long, passionate, and tender. Two souls blending, fusing, merging. Though the room was silent, music raged in both of their minds,…the music of the night. Nothing dare alter the magic in this moment.

Suddenly, Erick startled, jumping to his feet nearly sending Christine to the floor. He heard something. An echo. He turned back to Christine whose eyes were wide and full of fear. Erick jumped down from the pedestal that Christine's bed was lofted on. Moving quickly out to the center of his theater where he could hear the faint sound again. Someone was coming.

There was no time to extinguish all of the candles that were lit. There was no time to hide himself. Christine stood in the doorway to her room, mouth gaping open, looking pleadingly at Erick. His mind raced…what to do first. He ran back up to Christine, pushing her into her bed, throwing the thick blanketing over her, then dropping the dark veil that surrounded it. He wet his thumb and forefinger with his tongue, reaching out to extinguish all the candles in her room. He ran next out to the shore and listened again. The sound was definitely there.

Whoever it was, he knew that they hadn't reached the water, of that he was sure. Erick was so in tune with sounds that he could recognize even distant footsteps, or even the slightest ripple of water in his home. He looked around the room with his eyes darting here and there.

The heavy armored gate at the entrance would provide some time, if whomever was pursing him even made it that far. Disappointed that the many traps he had set failed to foil the intruder. The only one who had ever ventured that far had been Madame Giry, and even she, in her boldness, had never come that far down, always stopping at designated drop-off places, avoiding trap doors and snares, to bring him the items he required.

He first grabbed a satchel from under the organ, stuffing it with sheets of music, pens, and stacks of currency that had been hidden beneath the cushion in his splintering piano bench. He had thought the request for traveling bags to be absurd when he had asked for them years earlier. He never really knew if he would leave this place, thinking it may well one day be his tomb. Placing the filled case up by the mirror, he paused once again to listen. Not a sound.

Moving swiftly, he parted several drapes behind the mirrors beyond the piano. He pulled yet another larger traveling bag from there. He quickly made his way around the cavern pulling things from shelves and drawers as he went and stuffing them into the bag.

Erick turned sharply when he heard a faint but distinct snap, thud, and a splash. Grinning to himself, knowing that one of the last traps before coming to the underground lake had succeeded in catching its prey. Taking in a sigh of brief relief, he placed the second packed bag next to the first. He knew he, no they, THEY, could not tarry there much longer. If one had found it's way this far, there were sure to be more to follow.

Glancing over at Christine's room, he saw her peering around the corner behind the curtain. Erick smiled, and said "it's alright my dear, the sound you heard has bought us some time, but how much I do not know."


	7. Watery grave

Chapter 7 Watery grave

Raoul felt the floor beneath his feet give way. His eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, but that had not prevented him from falling prey to the trap door that rapidly disappeared below him. He fell only a few feet and was instantly submersed in water so cold that he couldn't breathe. He sunk down into nearly ten feet of water before he began to rise back to the top. As he was coming toward the surface, he could hear the slow grinding of wheels moving and suddenly saw a large grate rapidly descending toward the water. There was no room to escape as the edges of the concrete were above the grate now.

Raoul's only hope was in getting the wheel to stop turning, preventing the grate from falling fully into the water. His eyes wide open, the cold piercing his eyes like steely daggers. He swam toward where he could hear the shrill grinding of metal on metal. Finding it, a wheel moving clock-wise, lowering the chain, link by link, down into its

intended victim's grave.

Raoul fought it with all his might. Slowing it slightly. At his breath's end, he had to let go, knowing he must to survive. Propelling himself toward the surface just as the last inches of air lay beneath the grate. Exhaling and gulping in one last breath. He dove once more down to the depth of the wheel. Channeling the fear he felt of his own demise, and the anger he felt towards the monster that was trying to deprive him of his dear, dear, Christine.

He had to survive, not for himself, because he cared not if it cost him his very life. He had to rescue her, he had promised to protect her. He pushed and he fought until he thought he was spent. Suddenly, the grinding stopped and the wheel began to move in the other direction. The grate began to rise. Raoul said a prayer of relief and thanks, as he swam toward the surface, and toward another chance to rescue his sweet, pleading fiancé.

Pulling himself out of the frigid water without effort, even though his clothes were soaked, and his muscles sore from the fight. He leapt to his feet and began what he had to believe was the final descent into the caverns, and to his Christine. Hoping only that he wasn't too late to save her.


	8. Ponderings and lace

Chapter 8 Ponderings and laces

Madame Giry quickly slipped back into the inferno that was consuming her opera house. Black smoke was belching from the prop room. She ran to where she had last seen Meg. Much to her relief the child was gone. The heat was sweltering. Sweat was beading and running down her back as she climbed the stairs to the dormitories where her charges slept. Reaching the top, she began running from room to room looking in closets and under beds to make sure none in their foolishness had remained. Satisfied that everyone was gone, she looked over the balcony and saw the eerie smoke rising, covering the floor she had just left with a thick black-grey haze. She knew that behind those billows, fire followed with certainty. She needed air, and relief from the heat.

Climbing the last flight of stairs, she opened the doors to the top floor veranda. Going out, she swiftly closed the doors behind her wishing not to provide that raging monster with any more fuel, or want to climb to the next floor. Outside, the night was starry, and apart from the faint sounds of rushing carriages and a distant ring of a fire wagon's bells, the night seemed for all intent and purposes a perfect one. It was calm there on the roof. A strange calm.

She took in the cool night air with luxury, coughing, having inhaled more of the smoke than she had first thought. She had to go back in, but would she be able to find safe passage out of this place. She shook, but not from the chill in the air, but from the realization at what had happened.

It was too much to take in all at once. In one night, the history of Paris was changed, her home was taken from her, and as far as she could imagine, the night had claimed her beautiful "adopted" daughter, Christine, and her dear, dear, Erick. The losses were more than her heart could bear. She looked up into the dark night sky and prayed a silent prayer that fate would take it's course, but try not to be too cruel in its hunger. She took in one last deep breath of the fresh air, pulled a layer of her dress over her face, and headed back into the Opera House.

Erick looked back towards where he had heard the sound. Hearing nothing further, he relaxed the clench in his jaw. "We must go from this place, and perhaps never return." He looked around at the expanse of the cavern that had his been his home for decades. A sadness that he hadn't expected settled in his chest. He had dreamed of living here with her: loving her and nurturing her there. Enjoying their music, paying homage to music. He glanced back at Christine who had disappeared from view.

"Christine, it is alright, we are safe for the time being, you may come out from there if you wish." He waited for moments, seemingly an eternity. He feared she had fainted from the fright of impending danger. He leapt up the stairs and across the floor until he came to the veil covering the entrance to her room.

"Christine, it is alright my dear, are you feeling well? You have nothing further to fear at this moment. Do you need some assistance?" He peered behind the veil, glancing first toward the floor, expecting to find her there in a frail heap. She was not there. In the back of the room he heard a scratch, and the sudden smell of sulfur as Christine struck a match, igniting the head and moving it toward the candle on the dresser. In the soft glow of the flickering light he could see her outline, a slender beautiful silhouette. Her back faced him, and he could see her gossamer curls trailing down the length of her back. She turned glancing over her shoulder, and smiled politely, glancing down from his gaze, as if embarrassed to be discovered. "Christine, are you alright?" Erick asked again, in a more hushed tone. "Yes, quite alright." She replied.

Turning to face him, her eyes were gleaming. She smiled and said almost childishly, "I hope that this is alright with you." Erick's eyes widened as Christine moved fully into the light of the candle. "Christine!" Her face went pale, and she moved back slowly and apologetically. "I'll take it off if you'd like, it was rather bold of me to assume…" "NO, no..it suits you… even more than I had imagined." Erick couldn't remember when he had felt a smile voluntarily, and unexpectedly cross his face.

Christine moved slowly toward him now, the swish of the layers of the gown brushing against each other. "Oh Erick, it is most exquisite. However…I must confess…. I am unable to lace the entire back, so it is a bit loose about the middle." Erick's eyes blinked rapidly as he allowed his eyes to wander her from head to toe, basking in the thought that she had actually put on his dress. The dress he had saved for, so carefully selected, and kept those long months, waiting for her.

Christine blushed a little, but knowing no other option she blurted out "I know this might be most improper, but as there is no other to ask, may I ask for your assistance in fastening the laces?" Erick moved toward her nodding, motioning with his hands to turn around. His hands fumbled with the delicate ribbon. He needed to lean away several times to allow light so he could see what he was to do. Thankfully Christine had started it for him, so that he wouldn't look like a bumbling fool.

"No, much tighter please, it needs to fit securely round my She blushed at the simple mention of her undergarments. She had been raised to be proper, and knew men scarcely discussed such things, at least not in the company of ladies.

Erick, not wanting to hurt her, gently tugged on the ribbon until it felt as tightly drawn as he thought it should be. Tying a bow at the top as he fastened the last of it. He stood behind Christine, both motionless. Erick could smell the fragrant lavender and rose coming from the dressing that had been glossed into Christine's hair for her performance. Christine took in a long breath and said "Thank you. I apologize for my boldness in having asked you to do such a thing."

Erick placed his hands on Christine's shoulders, turning her gently around to face him. "You may ask anything of me anything, ask for anything, to do anything for you, anything your heart or soul desires." He bent down and placed an affectionate kiss upon the delicate tip of her nose. Looking up at Erick she smiled sweetly. Christine backed away several feet, spinning slowly around so that Erick may view all sides of the garment. "It is so very lovely isn't it?" Christine said with glee in her voice.

"Yes, the garment is fine, and it suits you, but it is you that makes it lovely." Christine stopped turning and faced Erick blushing and tilting her head toward the ground. She curtsied gracefully, and bowed as a performer would, saying "thank you."

"Christine, I should have told you. There are many other garments I had for you in this closet. With that he pulled open the door on the floor-length chest that stood on the outer wall of the room. Inside there were nearly a dozen dresses, and cloaks, as well as all the other garments necessary to wear such fine things. "You no doubt were cold and sodden from the water, and in the chill of the night thought you had no alternative. I'm sorry, I should have told you."

"What? Does it displease you that I chose to wear this one?" Christine stammered, smoothing her hands over the bodice. "No, no, if that is your wish, you may wear what you like. It's just that this is….. a wedding dress." Erick looked away from Christine for a moment, feeling the heat of blush on his own cheeks.

Christine moved closer to him reaching out and taking first his left hand and then his right into her own. Erick dared to look up at her at the sudden sensation of being touched in compassion. Most touch he had known in his life came in the form of beatings. But that was long ago, and he was with the most gentle creature he had ever known now. Christine looked pleadingly into Erick's eyes. "Why must you still doubt my intentions?"

Erick looked deep into her eyes, and felt as though he was drowning. "If I had known there were other garments, I would still have chosen this one. I've dreamed of it nearly every night since you first showed it to me. I've imagined wearing it. Of feeling the weight of the beautiful fabric on my shoulders." Erick interrupted, "No doubt you imagined your precious Vicomte at your left side in your dreams."

Christine was suddenly angered. How could he still harbor these feelings, after all she had risked to be with him. "I don't know why you say such hurtful things, when deep inside you must know they aren't true." Erick shook his head, and softly said "I'm so sorry….It's just that you wore his ring, accepted his proposal….on the roof that night."

"What?" Christine dropped his hands backing away from Erick. "What are you saying to me?" A chill ran up her spine, a look of horror filling her eyes. He had been there. She had thought she had heard him calling softly to her in the distance that night. Erick turned around, sitting on the edge of her bed, back towards her "that night, when you told Raoul that you had seen my face, and been in the blackness of my night….I was there behind the gargoyle on the edge of the rooftop. I heard everything that was exchanged between you…everything." Erick drew in a heavy breath.

Fighting to speak he continued, "I thought in that moment that I had lost you forever. That is why I disappeared for three months time, trying to put you from my mind, but alas, I could not. It only seemed logical to me that a young woman who had invited and accepted such a proposal would imagine herself on her wedding day, in her dress, her fiancé at her side"

Christine gasped. She could hardly find the words to say to him. He had heard everything? Her saying that his face was barely a face, that he carried all the sadness of the world in his eyes…how could he ever forget those horrible words.

She walked over and sat next to him on the edge of the bed seat. Her lips trembling she began, "Erick…I was scared…confused…my world had been turned upside down. I had been nothing much to anyone, and suddenly I was the center of attention. A socialite whom I'd known since I was a child was courting me. Any young woman would have been delighted to make such a fine match. I was thinking with my practical mind, listening to all the voices in my head that were telling me that he would be a fine match. I was trying desperately to silence the voice in my heart. I'd not meant to hurt you Erick…had I known….." Christine's voice cracked and tears were now flowing down the soft part of her cheek. She looked over at Erick. "Why didn't you show yourself that night?"

Erick turned away from her, "I did not want to interfere with your happiness. Had I shown myself it would have ended very bitterly…only two would have left the rooftop that night."

There was a moment of silence before he began again. "All I've ever wanted, since the very first day that I heard you crying softly in the cellar praying for your father, was for you to be happy; to know the happiness that I had never known. At first, I wanted to guide and protect you, to make you smile. As you grew, I came to love you, dared to love you from a distance that was safe for you." Erick stood walking a few steps and stopping to turn and face her again.

"Christine in those three months since that night on the roof, I went through so many emotions." He began flinging his arms about, cape fluttering in the wind. "I was angry, felt betrayed, denied, and yet I loathed myself for wanting to deprive you of such happiness. As time passed and I could not purge you from my mind, my emotions poured onto paper and into music. Before long, I'd fashioned Don Juan." He walked a few steps away looking up as if into a distant night sky. "It took weeks for me to decide whether I dare bring it to my managers, wondering how on earth I'd get them to agree to my deceitful plan. I'd lost all sense of reason, thinking only of having one last chance to see you, for you to deny me forever so that I might be certain that you were happy, and ready to leave your angel."

Christine could feel the tears welling in her eyes again. A shuddered breath escaped from her. Erick didn't seem to notice. "I'd come to the masquerade intending to slip the finished score into their offices unnoticed. When I came to the hall I'd have to cross to reach them, I saw you dancing with Raoul….I was overcome with rage. I forgot myself and descended the stairs wanting to rush down and slice him limb from limb." He paused, shutting his eyes tightly, reliving that moment in his mind. "But the coward moved first behind you and then escaped entirely from the room." Feeling emboldened by his departure, I came to tell them directly of my wishes, to provide instructions to the performers." He swirled around, a cross between fury and desperation in his eyes. "I tried to treat you as a pupil and nothing more, but gazing once more on your beauty and into your eyes so full of life and promise…." Erick's voice cracked, he could not continue.

Christine was crying freely now. Erick said, "I'm sorry Christine" joining her once more on the bed seat. Silence fell between them. Christine took the back of her hand to wipe the tears from her neck and face. She looked up at the ceiling blinking rapidly trying to stifle the tears that were threatening to return. Sucking in a heavy breath, she turned to Erick, once again grasping his hands in hers. Erick looked up at her, confused by what he saw in her eyes. It was not anger or pity, but something he could not describe, a deep reflective look that seemed to soothe his very soul.

Christine began "I never wanted to hurt you." She paused, "I have no doubt that in all of your failings, you never intended that I come to any harm. Erick." she said raising her hand now to caress his cheek and wipe the sweat from his brow. "Erick, I chose to put on this dress….I chose to come here with you…."

His eyes now beading with tears, as she looked at him with such intensity. "I have no idea how long it will be before someone finds us, or what they intend to do when they do….I only know I have no intentions of leaving your side…not ever…." She slid closer to him. "I felt in the depths of my soul, that this would be a most fitting garment to wear now." Erick looked up at her and into her eyes, daring to dream he had heard her correctly. She smiled at him sweetly and reached out to touch his hand.


	9. Chilled to the bone

Chapter 9 Chilled to the bone

Raoul pulled himself to his feet, and began wringing the freezing water from his clothing. It was an effort in futility he knew, but every ounce of weight would make him move more slowly, and send the chill down deeper into his bones. He descended once more, being careful to stay close to the edge of the wall where he was certain that he could grasp something if he encountered another trap in the floor. As he ran down the winding stairs, he could feel a cold wind circling around his feet. No doubt he was coming to where the caves met and flowed with air. He had heard that there was a hidden lake that lay beneath the Opera, but none had seen it since the days the walls were erected.

At last he was on flat ground. Although still very difficult to see, he could hear the movement of water and wondered how far he was from it. Would there be a way to move over it? Coming to what he believed was the edge, he felt with his hand the water, cold and foreboding. He was already wet, and the water felt no more frigid than what he had just been in. He decided to swim it in order to find where it led. Shuddering as he lowered himself into the water, unsure how deep or turbulent it might be.

To his surprise he could actually touch the bottom with his feet, and the water came only to his chest. Testing the theory by carefully putting one foot in front of the other with slight certainty that the entire canal would be that same depth. He began to move quickly as he knew that the chill of the water would claim him if he stayed in it for long. He could feel with his hand what seemed to be a ledge that was formed, not of natural rock, but perhaps of chiseled stone, confirming in his mind that this was indeed a passageway. No doubt one that monster had used often.

Raoul hesitated, thinking he saw a faint hint of light. Deciding to move in that direction, being cautious to check every few steps before he committed his body weight fully to it. He felt a sudden rush of hope as the light began to grow ever so slightly. Maybe he had found his hide-out, he only hoped he was not too late, that no harm had befallen her.


	10. Only then can you belong to me

Chapter 10 Only then can you belong to me

Erick reached down and brought her hand up to his chest, abandoning it there. He slid closer to her embracing her in his arms. "Christine…" he uttered in a hushed breath. "I've no need to force your heart to accept such a dismal existence. I have so little to offer you….no proper rooms. I've not minded being here, but I have little need for worldly comforts, but you…all that you are accustomed to… this place offers you none of those things." Erick looked away feeling ashamed.

"Erick, a home without love has little to satisfy a soul, even if it is filled with fine things. I ask no more of you than your love. If you have failed to notice, you will now that I have brought nothing with me to offer you. My contributions can only be in my comforting words, and in your service. My hands are empty." Christine sat baring her palms toward him.

Erick's mind beat wildly at the sound of her words. "Nothing to offer? You are the angelic light that this poor condemned soul exists on. It is the very thing that warms the blood in my veins, that gives me cause to rise in the morning. Nothing? You are everything in this world to me, without you there is little reason for my existence." His eyes wide and brimming with passion at the baring of his deepest thoughts.

Christine, flustered as he lavished her with such flattery, sat silently. She knew the words came from the depths of his soul, from a wounded and longing heart. She could not deny that he made her feel the same.

Finding the courage to speak she responded, "Erick, you were my reason for caring when I first came here. I'd lost my one companion, my friend, my father, and you took me under your wing. In all these years I've never felt closer to anyone, never longed to be with anyone more than you. I do not look around this room and think of all the comforts that I do not have. I look around this room and think how very lucky I am to have found you, found the love of my life, without whose beating heart I can no longer exist. I no longer wish to be separate from you, I must belong to you." She looked pleadingly at Erick.

"The words you sang to me the night that I first came here have haunted me so. You sang only then can you belong to me... I'd dwelled on those words." Christine looked up toward the ceiling, a smile washing over her. "Indeed they are what propelled me those last few moments before we left the theater tonight. I had to completely succumb to you in order to belong to you. Feel my heart as it beats now…" She pulled his hand to her chest and pressed it against her flesh.

He could feel her heart thundering below her skin. "I have no doubts left that I am to belong to you Erick. My soul demands it…if you will have me." Christine lowered her head just slightly.

Erick felt as if it were all a dream he dared not to wake from, lest he disturb the sweet melancholy of it. Finding no words to express what he held in his heart…for the first time in his life, he was without words.

Christine looked deeply into his eyes once more and leaned over to brush her lips against his. Instinct was taking over, her innocence peeling away. She leaned back trying to assess Erick's reaction. His eyes looked as though he'd been swallowed by a hypnotic spell. He came forward, meeting her lips with his, and gathered her into his arms. In one swift motion he was on his feet spinning her in circles in his arms kissing her tenderly. He slowed, allowing her feet to drop softly to the floor. There she stood, in his arms looking up at him, wanting to stay in that moment forever. He could not remember a moment as sweet in his long tortured life, as sweet as this one.

Erick turned quickly when he heard the sloshing of water in the corridor outside his theater. Someone had found them!


	11. The Confrontation

Reviews:

Thank you for all of the reviews. I am not a trained writer, but rather write from my soul, so please forgive me a few faux pas. It is very exciting to contemplate a different ending, it does something wonderful for the psyche.

Captain Oblivious: Thank you for your critique. I've done a spell change for future chapters. It will take some time to correct 1-10. Yes, happiness for Erik (spelled correctly) makes the author herself swoon. Thank you for your compliment, it makes it easier to go on.

Moonjava: Sorry about the crazy chapters. I think I finally figured out how to do it right!

Mendedways: Thank you for your kind words. I'll update today!

Pimpernelunderthecelticmoon: Sorry about the long chapters. I cannot seem to help myself. There is so much excitement about the story it just spills out. I'll try to make a few shorter ones, but alas, I've given myself up to the life of the story, it commands me now.

Chapter 11 The Confrontation 

"Raoul…" Christine gasped. She hid behind Erik's tall, tense frame, peeking out ever so slightly. Erik stood firm, and reached his arms out behind him to pull Christine up to his back. He glanced over to where his sword was lying on the piano. He knew Raoul would find no entrance as the steel gate was still soundly in place, and without knowledge of the whereabouts of the lever, he would never be able to breach the door.

"Christine..thank God I found you." Raoul said with fear but curiosity in his voice as if it were nearly a question. His face contorted, confusion in his eyes. She was hiding BEHIND that monster, and he couldn't imagine why unless she was bound…or injured. His mind racing with rage he began to shake furiously at the gate. "Christine, Christine, I love her, show some compassion, have you no pity, let me see her." With that Erik released Christine who slid back into the shadow of her room.

"The world showed no compassion to me!" Erik hissed back at Raoul with a fiery rage burning deep within him now. Thinking better of letting him leave and return with others, he thought it best to finish him now, and be done with it. "Be my guest sir..Monsieur I bid you welcome.." Erik switched the lever to lift the gate separating them, and began to move towards the lake and down into the water. "Did you think that I would harm her, why would I make her pay for the sins which are yours!"

In one swift motion Erik had slung a rope around Raoul's neck, reeling him in like an animal. "Call for your fine horses now, raise up your hand to the level of your eyes, nothing can save you now, except for this, Christine." Erik pushed Raoul back against the gate that had descended behind him. Lashing him to it with the rope.

Christine appeared from the shadows her face filled with horror at what she was seeing. Tears streaming from her face she couldn't utter a sound. She had chosen Erik, there was no need to kill, no need to deprive Raoul of his life. She loved him in her own way, not as a fiancé. He had been her childhood companion and friend. Her rejection of him was surely pain enough to suffer, but this he did not deserve, he had done her no harm, there was no need for him to die.

Erik spun around to see Christine. He saw the glimmer of tears running down the soft curves of her cheek, the terror in her eyes. Had he been a fool? Had Christine been the sacrificial lamb, and an adept actress as well? Had she been leading him to a trap herself, one that she and her precious Vicomte had laid for him? Doubt swirling in his mind, flashing back to the moments of inexplicable horror of his childhood when his mother had rejected him, pushed him out of the only home he ever knew and he was seized by gypsies that abused him. His rage rose to a boil, white lights flashed in his mind as he began to lose what little grip he had on reality.

He looked back to Raoul who was sturdily lashed to the gate, and then he placed a noose around his neck, pulling it taut. Looking back towards Christine, feeling all the desperation of the world descending upon him. "Start a new life with me, save your lover with your love, nothing can save him now.."

Christine's eyes darted back and forth between Erik and Raoul. Why the sudden change in Erik's heart? He had become a monster in a few minutes time. He needn't force her to love him, nor bargain with another's life, she had chosen him, and all but pledged her eternal love to him just moments before. She gasped.

Raoul would rather have been hung than to see Christine exchange her life for his. She was all he had dreamed of, and he had loved her nearly all of her life. He knew that should she choose to stay to spare him, his life was over anyway. He blurted out "Why make her lie to you to save me?"

Erik looked back in a fevered rage, his eyes burning with the intensity of a thousand flames. He pulled the noose a bit tighter, raising Raoul even more, pressing dangerously on his wind pipe. Christine shouted "NO!" As soon as the words left her lips she realized that Erik would misunderstand her intentions. Erik glared back at her. All of the compassion and love she had seen in his eyes was gone. In its place was the rage of a madman. His eyes were as wide and wild as a cornered beast.

Her mind raced and reeled. He had misunderstood. She neither wanted Erik to doubt her words or feelings, nor did she wish to put Raoul to such an end. She began moving into the freezing waters of the cavernous lake. "Poor pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have you known, God give me courage to show you that you are not alone." She was at Erik's side now, facing him. She lifted up her hands to reach his face and pull him to her. Gently kissing him.

He pulled back, more confused now than he had been before. Did she love him or was she trying to save Raoul? He always felt sure he knew the mind of his opponents well, in fact he prided himself on it, but in this instant, his mind whirled with doubt, hope, and fear. He looked down into Christine's eyes, feeling the warmth of tears running down his face. He was tired. Tired of the fight, of the agony, of the emotions that were racing through him.

Christine reached up and pulled him close once more, placing a more passionate kiss on his lips. He knew then, if he loved her, truly, truly loved her, he had to let her go. Raoul could provide the life for her that he could not. Raoul was not a bad man, and had done nothing but fought for her honor. Erik knew Raoul loved her, and was willing to risk his very life for her, just as he had himself. Erik's heart ached with the pain of what he knew he must do.

He pushed Christine away. She stumbled and looked back at him with wide curious eyes. "Forgive me, take him, go now, forget all you've seen." He began moving through the waters back towards the shore. "Take the boat, swear to me never to tell, of what you know of the angel in hell."

Christine looked toward Raoul whose' eyes were pleading with her to come to him. She rushed through the water, unfastening the ropes that had held him to within an inch of his life. As soon as his arms were free he grasped her in his arms pulling her to him with the force of a thousand horses. She was in his arms and they were free to be together.

Erik glanced back at the sight of the two embracing. His heart was breaking as if a sword had been driven through it. "GO NOW, GO NOW AND LEAVE ME." He shouted towards them with all the sorrow of the world in his voice. He pulled the lever lifting the gate once more.

Raoul had Christine firmly in his arms and began pulling her towards the boat. Christine was in shock. She could do nothing more than respond by complying to his movement. She was staring back at Erik, eyes wide and confused, mouth gaping open. Why had he rejected her? After all of this, after she had professed her love to him, told him she wanted to belong to him? Had he truly decided he wanted to be rid of her?

Raoul dropped Christine into the bottom of the boat and leapt in after her. Pushing the pole as fast as he could he thrust the boat into motion, wanting only to put as much distance between them and that monster as quickly as possible, lest in his rage he change his mind.

Christine sat frozen, gazing back at Erik standing on the shore. She raised her right hand to her waist and instinctively reached out towards him, pleading in her eyes. She knew she would never see the candlelight dance in his eyes, the soft lull of his music, or the sweet sounds of his voice in her ears. Her heart was breaking and she wished that she would die rather than face the unrelenting agony of life without her angel.

She could hear the puff of Raoul's breath as he pushed with all his might trying to move the boat rapidly through the dark waters. The glow of the cave was dimming, and the dark was surrounding them now. Once again all she could hear is the rush of the water beneath the boat, as she had before. But now rather than being filled with hope and anticipation, she was dying inside. The man in the boat with her was not her love. He was nothing but a man. He had chosen her, been good to her, but staring at his frame now, she felt nothing. Her love lay back in the dark caverns of the lake. She was moving away from it now, but could feel its' tug as surely as if it were the very center of the earth, of all eternity.

Raoul pulled the boat up to the shore, scraping the bottom on the jagged rock. He reached down and pulled Christine up into his arms, embracing her as if he could never let her go. Christine did not respond, her arms lay limp at her sides, feeling the very life draining out of her. Raoul released her, looking down and asking "Are you alright, are you injured, did that thing hurt you?"

She looked down at the ground. Taking in a deep breath, slowly raising her eyes to Raoul. His pleading eyes nearly undoing her. She had to tell him, she could not bear to live her life as a lie. He could offer her all the comforts of the world, but that is not what she longed for. Her soul required something that neither money nor luxury could supply. Above all things she must be true to her soul. That is what her father would have wanted for her.

Xxxxx

Erik listened until he could no longer hear the movement in the water. "You alone could make my song take flight…" His heart heavy, his body drained, his limbs crying out in pain. He staggered under the weight and intensity of it all. His clothes wet and heavy, his heart burst and laid open to all the ravages of humanity.

He slowly pulled himself toward the first draped mirror, smashing it with two swift blows. "It's over now the music of the night.." He walked past the broken shards of mirror, into a small dark room. He lit one candle and fell down to the floor on his knees.

Reaching out for the singular toy he had in his youth, he wound the key on the side. Carefully sitting the music box back in place. He looked on with such sweet sorrow as it began to play its mournful tune. Erik let the words of the music escape from his lips "masquerade, paper faces on parade, hide your face so the world will never find you."

It had been his sole companion as he lived in the shadowy darkness of the caverns far below the Opera House. A monkey playing the symbols, had been the only face he gazed on many days of his life there. He knew he would have to leave now, or face certain death in the hands of the hunters who would surely follow now that Raoul knew where he was.

Erik hung his head tears flowing freely in his loneliness for there was none there to see him at his weakest, or to offer him comfort. The tune of the music box slowing. As it stopped, a pitiful cry rose from his chest, and he began to sing "No one would listen, no one but her, hears as the outcast hears…"

He drew in a sharp breath, sensing someone else was there with him. He was on his knees, glancing around with his eyes to see if there were any weapons to defend himself, alas there was none. Perhaps it was best he thought to himself, why prolong this suffering?

He sensed that the person was very near. Rather than fighting or trying to flee, he would face his executioner bravely, and with dignity. He turned and his eyes widened, for what he saw was not what he had expected, but hurt rushed into his heart all the same surely as if he were struck a fatal blow.


	12. How Can It Be?

Author's notes: 

Captain Oblivious: Yes, poor Erick! Something tells me he will have a smile on his face very soon! But nature must have a balance, for surely pleasure cannot exist without pain.

Midnight Tango: Thank you. I am excited also for then next chapters! The story grows in my mind as I sleep, and I cannot wait to see what the future brings for Erick and Christine!

Glitter Queen of the Ice Show: You are right, Christine needs to get back to him…her one true love…Plato would call it a fated pairing…they are truly split-aparts!

Chapter 12 How can it be? 

Raoul was climbing the stairs now. Nearly blinded by his tears and grief. How could she have chosen to go back? He had rescued her? He loved her, could give her everything she had ever dreamed of. The Phantom held no horror for her now, why would she ever choose to throw her life away?

His anger tempered only by the gaping wound in his heart, both abating it, and fueling his need for revenge. The stairs seemed longer than he had remembered, and the climb was taking its' toll on his ravaged body.

Cold, exhausted, his neck still throbbing from the pain of the ropes that had bound him. He stopped to rest against the wall, gasping pitifully trying to regain his strength to keep going. His descent had been swift fueled by his love and sense of responsibility for her. Now, feeling the searing sting of defeat, he wanted only to leave this world, for he could not bear to think of living in it without her by his side. She had promised him…promised to love him for a lifetime….and he had promised too.

On this day his Christine, his little Lottie had died to him, and he wished he could close his eyes and die too. A desperate longing settled upon him…only if he had perished in that watery grave so he might not have known her choice. He let out a deep sigh and closed his eyes. The smooth cold stone of the rocky stairwell pressing firmly against his weary back.

Raoul startled as he heard the echo of voices, many voices from above. His eyes opened to see a distant glimmer. Had someone found his path? Had Madame Jiry decided to send others after him to help or rescue? He rose to his feet with renewed strength realizing that with assistance, he might now be able to bring her back. He wiped his brow, thoughts racing at the possibilities. She would need months of patience and encouragement, but she could come out from under this spell which held her, and learn to love him again. He had to hope, to dream it could be, there must be a reason to go on, and now he knew.

He shouted out, "you there, come quickly, he's down here!" The trampling of boots and clanking of swords against the brick grew louder. He leaned against the wall again trying to collect himself. The light grew brighter until he could see the torches, and with them, nearly thirty men. "Come, let us go quickly." The mob began their descent, moving slowly in single file, as Raoul advised them to stay along the wall to avoid the snare he had found himself victim to just an hour before.

XXXXX

Erik took in a sharp breath, then he gasped "Christine!" She stood there before him, dress sodden, eyes wide, tears streaming down her pale cheeks. She looked at him pleading with her eyes. The corners of her lips lifting slightly as if in an attempt to smile. She looked down, her lashes pushing back some of the tears before looking back up at Erik.

Erik stood, unable to move or speak. "Erik.." Christine managed as she started moving toward him. "I believed that you loved me.." she began slowly, evenly, trying to calm her own nerves. "In all that has happened in this one night, I thought that we were meant to be together…forever…" She felt her voice catch in her throat as her emotions got the best of her. She began to cry. Erik trembled, she held his fragile heart in her hands, capable of both healing or dashing it against the craggy rocks…he was so vulnerable, but even death itself held less fear than the pain of the finality of this moment…it would forever change him to the core. He held his breath.

Sucking back her fears, she began again through a tear-filled voice "I have never loved another as I have you, never imagined being with another than you, never desired to embrace another as I do you. I have done things that may be unforgivable in your eyes, but I would not be true to my heart…..no, my soul, if I did not return to you, my teacher, my angel, my …" She broke down and started to sob.

Erik stood motionless, his brow furrowed, his lips trembling. Christine continued, "I meant what I said to you before. You had chosen me Erik, you said so yourself…and tonight I thought you understood that I had chosen too."

Erik rushed toward her taking her into his arms. He held her as close as flesh would allow, as if she would disappear like a vapor if he did not, a mist in a dream. She nestled her head into his chest.

His hands gently slid from the embrace and moved up towards the curves of her face. He tenderly lifted her chin, their eyes meeting in a fiery flash, lingering doubts dissolving between them. The fates had brought them together. They stood clinging to one another, staring deeply into each other's eyes, no words needed saying. Words would surely have diminished the intensity of the moment, for when hearts are speaking, ears are of little use. Wishes, hopes, and dreams exchanging in the power of their gazes.

Erik tilted his head toward Christine, and she towards him, until at last their lips met in a sweet and tender kiss. Christine pulled her hands from Erik's chest and wrapped her arms securely around his neck. A warming flame taking over his damp chilled bones.

Neither cared about the chill in the air or the weight of the clothing that hung water logged from their frames. Erik lifted Christine into his arms and she rested her cheek against the broad expanse of his chest. He carried her back into her room, and carefully sat her on the edge of her bed.

He turned from her without a word and moved toward the closet he had prepared for her. Reaching inside he retrieved several garments and handed them to Christine. She looked up at him confused. "Erik?" she said with bewildered question in her voice. "You must be freezing in that cold wet dress. Come you need to change into something suitable for traveling."

"Where are we going Erik?" Christine asked as she began to remove the first layers of her dress. Erik had turned his back to her so as to afford her some privacy. The air was cold and the drafts that swirled through the caverns made her damp skin shiver.

"We must go from this place Christine, and perhaps never return. While it grieves me to leave the safety of my, …our, …this place, I know we shan't be safe here. They will come looking for me, for us, as I am certain that they will not be satisfied with the conclusion of events."

"Erik? I need you." Erik turned his head slightly as if to inquire. "I am again at a loss for reach, as I am not accustomed to removing these things on my own. It is a flaw in design…to be so dependent on another for the mere task of dressing and disrobing."

Erik turned to see an embarrassed Christine with her back towards him, arm and hand pointing to the back of her dress. Erik smiled a sympathetic smile, and moved toward her to assist. He tried to keep his mind on the task at hand as he moved the laces out of each eyelet further releasing Christine from its grasp. Finally, he was finished and he gazed at the fully exposed flesh of her back. He reached out his hand and gently caressed the soft pink skin. Christine felt a hot shiver run up her spine.

She held her dress to her front tightly to keep it all from falling to the floor. "Thank you", she said discreetly. Erik moved back to the other side of the room. "I must go to prepare myself, I shall return in a short while, after giving you ample time to dress." With that Erik left the room.

Christine pulled the blanket from the bed, wrapping its warm length around her shoulders. She shivered as she let the wet garments fall to the floor. The blanket felt good against her frigid skin. Not knowing how much time she had before Erik's return, she moved quickly toward the darkest corner of the room, behind a dressing screen that Erik had put there for her months earlier. She slid on the stockings first, and then all of the other undergarments. Looking in the pile she found no corset. She had dressed with one for as long as she could remember wearing a dress, but tonight she worried little, as she put on her slip and finally pulled the dress up over her hips and onto her shoulders.

The issue of hooks and ribbons still plagued her as she could only reach half-way up her back. She would ask for assistance again when he returned. She was grateful that there was a cloak among the items he had retrieved for her. She placed it around her shoulders. Looking around she saw no shoes, but imagined that if they were there, they would be in the closet.

She moved to it and peered inside. There were several pair to choose from and she selected the most sturdy among them. They were hardly a match for the beauty of the dress she now wore, but she thought the most practical for traveling.

Glancing around the closet, she marveled at all the fine things that he had procured for her. Several dresses in tones of jade, ruby, sapphire, and the deepest purple she could remember. There were several beautiful nightgowns, and a soft robe, made of a fabric she had never seen before. There were chemise, and other undergarments as well. At the back of the closet she noticed a rather large shadow. Being curious she reached back until her hand grasped it fully. She pulled it from it's home to find it was a rather large traveling case. She placed it on her bed and opened it fully. It could hold a great deal.

Glancing back at the closet she realized she must also prepare for their travels. He had said that they would likely never return to this place, and she had no desire to leave behind all the lovely things he had carefully selected for her.

One after another she folded and placed the garments in the bag, patting them down to make room for another. She came to the last hanger and slipped it from the hook, looking down at it. It was a soft white gown, understated but still elegant by all measures. It was not like any that she had seen before. There were no hooks or ribbons, simply one large garment with a place for her neck, two arms, and a larger hole at the bottom where she assumed she could pull it over her head. She stood rubbing her hands across its smooth fabric, and wondering what this was suitable for. She shook her head and folded it and put it in the bag with the rest.

Placing the several pair of shoes in the bag, she reached over to the dresser to collect the combs and brushes, and hair ribbons. She thought whimsically to herself that for a man, he had taken great care to make sure he had provided everything she had needed. She lashed the ties on the garment bag, and turned to face the opening to her room.

There, Erik stood looking at her. "Whatever are you doing Christine?" She sat the bag back down on the bed. "You had said that we were traveling, and you yourself had gone to prepare, so it seemed that I should do the same…is that alright?" Erik flashed her a reassuring smile. "I am glad to see we are of one mind. Your preparedness will make our departure much swifter." Erik moved toward her and picked up the bag. "Come, we must depart, we have a long uneasy journey, and time will be of the essence." Erik turned his back and started to walk toward the opening.

"Um, if it is not too much trouble, I am in need of your assistance just this once more before we leave." Christine removed her cloak and turned her back toward Erik. The cloak had held her dress in place on her shoulders, but now it fell several inches before she let the cloak drop to the floor, clutching the dress with both her hands. Erik moved toward her with a little laugh in his voice, "It is alright, I understand that these things are difficult to care for on your own." He ran the last laces through and drew the last ribbon into a bow.

"I am sorry that this dress does not fit properly, I thought that I had estimated correctly." "No, the dress is wonderful, and beautiful. I had no corset to put on so the dress is a bit loose on that account." Erik felt flushed. A proper woman would have had a corset. He had forgotten to bring that to her, and felt a bit uneasy. "I am sorry. If we had more time, I would allow you to change, but if you can manage, we should depart." Christine nodded in agreement. It could be tended to later. How long she would have to go she did not know.

With that Erik lifted her cloak and fastened it about her neck and smoothed it over her shoulders. He reached down and gently kissed Christine. Looking her deep in the eyes he took her by the hand, "Come my love, we must go, I will lead you to safety where neither time nor man may harm you."

Erik led her out into the main room where several bags lay by the large mirror in the center. He took up a large candlestick and thrust it into the mirror's center several times before it started to give way. After several more blows it surrendered it's home. Erik took two bags in one hand, and Christine's hand in the other. Looking back he bent down to kiss her gently one more time, and the two departed into the darkness of the cave. The heavy back veil settling back into its place. They'd left the safety of Erik's home to begin their journey, to where she did not know, but she didn't care….as long as she was with him.


	13. Hunters, hunted, hiding place

Chapter 13 The hunters, the hunted, and the hiding place 

"It's just beyond this water, down a bit deeper into the cavern." Raoul shouted back at the men. He was the first to reach the water's edge. He took his torch and lifted it high into the air so that the room would have some illumination. The men clamored in behind him. "Which way now sir?" said the first to arrive. "The boat, the boat is gone.." Raoul looked about the room with frustration. "We will have to traverse the water as I know of no other way to gain access."

Raoul was first to drop himself into the freezing water. The second and third followed suit, and soon all were immersed into chest deep water so cold it felt as if ice should be forming on the surface. The chill of the water did not deter Raoul as he had seen much worse just hours before.

He moved ahead pushing his way through the water and the men, torches held above their heads, followed in single file. The way was eerie, much stranger than he remembered, with skulls and gargoyles carved into the stone on the walls. The light from the torches only made the sculptures seem larger than life, more ominous. Strange words in languages that none knew were inscribed below the fiercest looking faces, no doubt a warning to all that past them. The winds whistled through the corridors threatening to extinguish the flames on the sticks that they carried. Several did and the procession had to pause to relight them.

"It's just ahead, everyone be careful now as the traps no doubt become more plentiful near the entrance." Raoul said with a whispered hush. Soon all the men were lined up, two layers deep, peering through the grates of the gate. No light was in the room, but the could tell from the echoing rush of the waters that the room must be large.

Raoul began to feel his way around the edges of the gate, climbing up to the top, and down to the other side. The men were becoming anxious to find themselves out of the water and began to move around, sloshing about. One near the left edge of the group felt his foot slip and suddenly disappeared into the murky depths, his torch extinguished.

The group fell silent in horror, and Raoul dropped himself into the water and dove down to grab the man. He pushed his eyes open trying in vain to see in the murky darkness. His eyes stung and he quickly shut them again as his vision served no purpose in a place this void of light. He finally reached the man who was thrashing about like an animal caught in a snare. The man grabbed at him, and Raoul tried to lift him to the surface but alas he was stuck, but to what he could not tell. Raoul released him and swam just beyond his grasp and dove deeper until he could feel about the man's feet. His shoe was caught on some rounded curl of metal. Raoul quickly slipped the man's shoe from his foot, and he immediately rushed to the surface of the water, gasping for air. He startled his companions and they let out a terrified yelp. He swam toward the safety of the gate and clung to it for dear life.

Raoul still beneath the surface dove down once more to feel about the odd metal he had felt. He could feel a hinge and a spring attached to it. With all his might he tried to lift it, but nothing. He then pushed it, and it gave way, but quickly snapped back into position. When he reached the surface, he was amazed to see all the men looking up at the gate that was now lifting. He had found the hidden lever.

The men began to rush into the cave toward the awaiting shore. Having reached it, they looked for anything that they could light. They all stood shivering as the room came into full view. By all accounts, had these things been inside a home, they would have belonged to a nobleman. A piano and bench. Bookcases filled as a library would be. A drawing table with two chairs. Candelabras here and there. They were struck by how normal a room this was for such a monster, a Phantom.

Raoul finally reached the shore and pulled himself up to the stairs that led to the rooms to the rear of this stage. Taking a new torch in hand he went to the first room, nothing but a large coffin-like box lay on the floor and a small night stand at it's side, with layers and layers of melted wax stemming from the small brass candlestick. He ran out and down to the next room, a large velvet curtain hung at it's front, and inside a large carved swan-shaped bed, with lovely satin sheets. The very sight of it made Raoul fill with rage.

A dresser, and armoire, all drawers pulled out, empty. He ran towards the dressing screen and peered behind. Nothing. But wait, what was that on the floor? He moved closer, bending down he lifted the wet gown from the ground. Was this Christine's? He had never seen it before, and he dared not think she could have afforded such an elaborate gown. He held the torch higher and he flung the dress out onto the bed to look at it, only to notice it looked like a wedding dress. Could this be? Was his mind playing tricks on him? "Christine…" Raoul gasped under his breath. He could hear the men busy about the room behind him, breaking glass and ripping fabric.

He returned to the entrance of the room, torch in hand, filled anew with a need to find her, to bring her to safety. "Men, we must look in every corner of this room, and if we don't find a secret passage here, we will move back to the outer corridor and search there. There is no one here, but they cannot have been gone long." With that Raoul motioned to the men to begin searching. Soon they were spread out all over the cavern, searching the walls, and inspecting the ceiling above them. "I've found it!" One man screeched to Raoul.

He jumped down and went rushing over to him. Behind the thick black curtain was a shattered mirror, and what lay beyond the gaping hole in the rock he did not know, but knew he had to find out. "Come on, bring your torches, for surely this is the way that the monster must have taken her." Raoul was the first to enter and then followed by the rest. Once again the room was empty, seemingly lonely, with a single lit candle flickering on the piano.

XXX

Erik held Christine by the wrist, as they rushed through the pitch-black of the tunnels. He turned and weaved in and out of the labyrinth of stone that lay beneath the Opera House. Christine didn't complain but tried to keep up carrying the bag with one hand and following Erik's leading with the other. Erik paused for a moment as he could sense the hesitancy in Christine's hand.

"Christine, do not fear for your safety. I know these catacombs by heart and could travel them in the dark." "We are traveling them in the dark Erik." Christine replied with obvious fear in her voice. "My eyes are much more accustomed to these conditions than yours, I know, but trust in me, I shall lead you to no harm. You will not find any impediments on this path, except your own fears." Erik gently pulled Christine to him giving her a reassuring kiss on the cheek. "Follow me." With that Erik was once again moving quickly down deeper into the ground at an incline that made Christine's mind whirl. She felt they had descended far enough to be close to the center of the earth.

They had been traveling for a long while, Christine's feet ached, she could barely catch her breath. She was at once thankful in those moments not to have been confined by a corset as that would never have allowed for her lungs to fill and empty as freely as they were now. She hadn't breathed that deep for a very long time.

Soon Erik's pace slowed and came to a halt. He let go of Christine's hand. "Erik!" Christine called out in fear that he had left her. "Shhh" came his response. She stood terrified by the blackness, and the grinding of stone that she could hear just feet in front of her. She heard Erik grunt as though he were struggling with something. Christine reached out in front of her thrashing her hands about in the void but could not feel him. She moved a few inches forward, her hands trembling, and mind once again in motion at what lay ahead of her. Suddenly Erik's hand grasped hers, and she let out a gasp. "Bring your bag, and watch your step."

Christine moved back the few feet she had gone and began feeling around on the ground until her hands discovered the bag and she took it quickly and began to move forward again. Erik's hand was now on her back, and his other hand on hers as if a gentleman guiding a lady through a doorway. Once inside, Christine could feel the closeness of the room, as the echo of her breathing reverberated off the walls. Erik led her to a wall and assisted her to sit on something, what it was, she wasn't sure. She heard Erik again moving what sounded like a large stone. Then gentle tapping and a swish that sounded like Erik had just flung a large garment to the ground. The scrape of metal on metal, and something that sounded like rings being placed on hooks. It was silent for a moment.

"Erik?" A single scratch, and the smell of bursting sulfur. A candle soon illuminated the tiny room. Christine's eyes struggled in the new light but grew wide with amazement. It was a small room indeed, but had many things a small cave would not normally contain. There was a small table with two chairs. Several boxes that were tightly sealed. Several large blankets on the floor on top of what appeared to be a make-shift straw bed. On the other side of the room was a small table with a basin and pitcher. Several books were scattered on the floor. A quill and bottle of black ink, and blank sheets of parchment lay at their side.

She looked up at Erik who was wiping his brow and panting from his labors. She glanced at the hole they had just passed through and saw what she had heard. Erik had hung a large black curtain over the entrance, pushing it up tightly into the crevasses where stone met stone. It was a shield for the light.

"We cannot have but one candle here and it must be kept a distance from the door. If any sounds are heard it must be immediately put out." Erik looked at her to see that she understood his instructions. She nodded in acknowledgement. Erik took his cloak off his shoulders, whirling it on the bed in a flourish.

He walked over to Christine. She hadn't really realized how tall Erik was but in this room he could not stand fully. He took her by the hand and led her to the table. "Sit, it will be much more comfortable for you." Erik turned and busied himself with putting the bags together near the entrance and began opening the sealed boxes she had seen before.

The first box contained several cups and saucers, a few tea bags, and hard biscuits. The second a small pitcher, and towels. Erik lifted a tiny tablecloth and took it over to the table. He smoothed it over the surface as Christine looked on in amazement. He then brought the tin of biscuits and the cups and saucers. A jar of preserves and a butter knife.

Christine stretched her neck to see what else Erik would bring from the box. He turned around, pitcher in hand and moved to the far side of the cave. Behind one of the large rocks was the small trickle of a natural spring. Erik stood patiently as the pitcher collected several cups of water. Christine watched in amazement at Erik's motions. They all seemed so relaxed yet purposeful.

Erik turned and his eyes met Christine's. He smiled as he walked to the table and placed the pitcher on it. Christine had put the cups in the saucers and had laid out the butter knife next to the preserves. Erik sat down in the chair across from her, holding the pitcher now above the candle. "The water is pure, but cold, it will take some time before.." Christine interrupted not with her voice, but her eyes. Erik couldn't help but be amazed once more at her sheer beauty, her gentleness, her goodness. She was all he could have ever imagined a fine woman to be, and she was there with him.

"Erik, thank you. You needn't tire your arm to warm the water. It is fine to drink as you said, and it will be a welcome wetness to my parched throat." With that Erik put down the pitcher and reached out his hand and placed it over Christine's. He felt a surge of sadness as he knew she would have been accustomed to a more suitable dinner had she been in the safety of the Opera House, but this is all he could offer her.

He took the tin of biscuits in his hand, peeling the wax from the edges of the lid. Christine took the jar of preserves in her hand and began to do the same. The tin was laid open on the table, and the preserves at it's side. Christine had never shared a meal with Erik, and didn't know what he normally did. Did he devour it without manners? Who would have taught him otherwise, it isn't something that one is born knowing. Christine glanced down not quite sure what to do.

Erik reached out again covering her hand with his. She glanced up to see that Erik had lowered his head, so she did the same. "We humbly thank you for these gifts, Amen." Christine dared not look up. She put both hands in her lap. Had he just said a prayer? In all those years she had never heard him utter a prayer, nor hint at what he believed or not. She hadn't thought about an opera ghost having faith, it just never occurred to her that he might, as he was already part of that world. But no, he was a man, part of this world, and he too had reverence for a stronger being.

Erik cleared his throat. Christine looked up, and their eyes met. Erik had busied himself smearing strawberries on the hard biscuits placing two on Christine's plate, and two on his. He poured water into each of their cups. Looking at her he said "Is this alright my dear? I am sorry that I have no other provisions to offer you, and I was certain you would be hungry by now." Erik sunk his teeth into the first biscuit carefully wiping the crumbs from each corner of his mouth with his fingers. Erik looked at Christine who still hadn't moved toward her food.

"Are you not hungry?" "Yes, yes I am" Christine blurted out. I am most hungry as the last that I'd eaten is breakfast this morning." "Why don't you eat then?" Erik had set his biscuit back in the saucer and was looking at her. "Erik, where did you learn to pray?" Erik looked down and resettled himself in his chair. He didn't at first reply. "Erik?" Christine said. He looked back up at her, looking for the first time she could recall, timid. He replied, "from you my dear."

Christine felt a surge of warmth running through her. Realizing that she had given Erik something that no one else in his life probably had. Standing, she went to him, flinging her arms around his shoulders and nestling her face on the back of his neck. "Erik, I am so sorry for the cruelty of this world, for what you have been deprived of."

Christine fought back tears as she held him close to her. Erik sat motionless, and then his shoulders began to heave back and forth as his pain overtook him. He rested his head on his now folded arms on the table and began to cry without reservation. Christine rubbed her hands on his back and shoulders trying to comfort him. She knelt down on the floor next to him, and tried to look up at his face through his arms.

A bit embarrassed by his sudden outburst of emotion, Erik tried to pull his head up and face away from Christine's sight. He tried to wipe the tears from underneath his mask. He felt a gentle hand on his chin and Christine was turning his face towards hers. He looked up into her eyes and saw the redemption he had sought for as long as he had sensed his own mortality.

Christine looked at him with all the love and admiration that she felt inside her. "Erik, the tears are our souls way of washing out the damage of our lives, they are nothing to be ashamed of, they bring much needed release to the pain we feel." She stood up and kissed his tear streaked cheek and then held his face in her hands. Looking deeply into his eyes she said "I love you Erik, all of you. I shall be here to dry your tears" she said as she gently began to wipe the tears on his cheeks with her long brown tendrils. "I will be here to turn your tears into memories, and fill your life with happiness, that is my prayer for you."

Erik rose to his feet and pulled Christine into his arms. Their heads resting on one another's shoulders, and their hearts beating against their chests. "Oh Christine.." Erik said as he lifted her into his arms holding her as close as she had ever been. With no corset between them it felt as though he could wrap his arms around her very heart. He gently set her back on her feet. Looking down he reached out and kissed her tenderly. Their eyes meeting but never closing, not wanting to miss the embrace of their souls.


	14. Weary Souls

Captain Oblivious: Yes, yes, I felt the same way as the story unfolded. Raoul …well, yes…an enemy of sorts. Perhaps you know the saying "keep your friends close, and your enemies closer." Something tells me you're smiling right now just thinking of the possibilities!

Inuyashaslover: Thank you for your review. The story has rather taken hold of me, rather than me of it. Just so you know - I'm cowering…no sticks please!

Midnight tango: Reunited – I must admit I'm a bit of a love-sick-sap through and through. The pair has far too much passion between them to be parted! Although, as they say, "absence makes the heart grow fonder."

Vixen: Thank you for the review. I hope you enjoy what's yet to come!

**Chapter 14 Weary souls**

Raoul had been searching for what felt like hours. With no clocks or light to give them guidance, they had no way of knowing what time it was. He was the first to sit. He leaned back heavily against the cold unforgiving stone. "Must have escaped through a tunnel or something." One man retorted.

"It's not likely he would risk being found in the streets of Paris, he is much too clever for that." Raoul snapped back at him. "No telling which way he might have taken, there are so bloody many different places he could have wandered off." Another man said as he pushed his head back staring up at the craggy surface above. "We've been down here for hours now, and I'd fancy a stiff whiskey if we could have one."

"We are indeed all weary, but to end this pursuit would only give that mad-man more opportunity to escape." Raoul was once again on his feet. Standing at the entrance to a choice of two tunnels, he closed his eyes and reached out his hand. We will take this one he exclaimed pointing to the left. He knew not which path to take, he simply felt drawn to this one.

Everyone was on their feet again, moving single file down the narrow halls of the caverns. The ground began to slope, and the incline decreased sharply. All were reaching for whatever they could grasp on the sides of the wall just to maintain their foothold. They descended down, and down further still until the ground began to level The walls seemed to widen a bit now, with two men being able to stand shoulder to shoulder. There was loose gravel beneath their feet, odd Raoul thought for a cave surely carved by mother-nature herself with waters from the river Seine. Loud scuffling echoing once all the men were on the loose stone. Something was wrong, Raoul could feel it, but there was no turning back now.

XXX

Erik froze. He moved deftly to the candle on the table, snuffing it out with his thumb and forefinger. He moved back to Christine, taking her in his arms, slowly sliding to the floor. He pulled his cloak from the bed and covered them both. Erik whispered to Christine "we must be very quiet now. I fear that someone has found their way this far. The room is well hidden, and unless one would know it was here, the entrance is obscured so none should be able to find it. Rest now, it will be a long while before they abandon their search, and there is nothing to do but wait. Rest your eyes, you must be tired."

Christine felt warm, and strangely safe in the arms of a man most men revered and feared. Her eyes closed and her breathing slowed. Soon she gave in to her exhaustion and fell deeply asleep in the arms of her angel.

Erik's senses were keenly tuned to the sound of feet on the gravel not a hundred yards from where he and Christine now sat in hiding. His mind working fast to devise a plan in case by some odd chance the room was found. He was able to get the two of them out quickly if the need arose. He was so very grateful for the trip that he had taken to the caverns above this one, and an untimely fall that he had revealed the room they now occupied.

The ceiling above was not thick, and had in fact broken under his weight not a year before. It was quite by accident that he had found this room. Above them there was a three-foot wide piece of stone that covered the only escape from this room. He would have to hoist Christine on his shoulders to provide her enough height to move to the room above. He would not disturb her now with the details as he knew not if it was necessary, and did not wish to raise her from her much needed slumber.

The voices grew louder, the thudding of heavy boots upon the stone indicated they were moving closer. There was little to do but wait. What seemed like hours passed but he was sure it was minutes only, the group came to a halt outside the room. Erik shallowed his breathing so that it was barely audible.

"This is the end of it" one man yelled back toward a point in the distance. "No where to go here it's a dead-end. Must've missed another tunnel somehow." He heard scuffling behind the man as it sounded as though someone was pushing through. "It cannot be, there must be another way out."

Erik's breath caught in his throat, that voice belong to one man and one man alone….Raoul. Erik wanted so to burst threw the stone and pierce him through. He loathed the man who had tried to woo and charm his Christine. He had released him so that he might have another life. He had all of society to choose from, why must he pursue the one treasure that was left on this earth for him?

Erik shook his head, fighting back tears of rage, and anguish. The full realization of what he was asking Christine to do flooded his mind. He could hear the searching of hands on the walls outside, knowing that Raoul would not leave until he was satisfied that no outlet could be found. Then he heard silence. No sound at all from the outside. He heard the coarse scraping of gravel yielding under the weight of heavy boots.

"We will have to search the other tunnel, it surely must lead to the outside or a room or something. He must have gone this way, I cannot imagine he would have wanted to stay in this awful place, or subject a woman to it either." The footsteps began to fade to the distant echo that had first alerted him to their presence.

Erik breathed a heavy sigh of relief and leaned his head back against the cool stone wall. He had broken a sweat, and it weighed heavy on his brow before trickling down behind his mask. He closed his eyes lifting yet another silent prayer. They were safe….for now.


	15. Absolution in the perfect place

Reviews: 

I am glad to see others are enjoying the story. I am such a romantic at heart, that the story even haunts me in my dreams. Today, after perfecting this next chapter, someone I'd not seen in awhile asked me if I was in love…alas I am single so this would have come as some surprise even to me…all I could do was smile…I knew the blush she referred to…the source was this story. If it pleases but a few (myself included) it will have its' intended affect. Thank you for following along on this journey with me.

Captain Oblivious: It is ironic, in your review you had confused yourself, but I had been following your train of thought perfectly! I too think rather abstractly. Erik would be pleased with us both; he was an "odd-thinker" himself I'd imagine.

Orli's babe: Thank you for your encouraging words. I am but a vessel for the story now, it demands I update it! I hope you enjoy this next chapter…it gave me the tingles writing it.

Glitter Queen of The Ice Show: Thank you, I'd hoped you'd approve. Raoul is a man, a very handsome, worthy man….although perhaps not man enough for our Christine! He may be better suited for someone else…..

Chapter 15 Absolution in the perfect place 

It was Christine who first stirred. Her face warm against Erik's chest. He radiated such heat even through his shirt and vest. She listened to the gentle rhythm of his breathing, and felt the comfort of his arms around her. She didn't want to disturb him from the sleep that had surely descended upon him. To her he felt relaxed, muscles soft and supple rather than their normal rigid and tense state. The danger surely past now, or she would not have found him sleeping.

Christine had never seen him sleeping, or at complete rest for that matter. She'd never dared look at his face without his gaze fixed upon her. How she longed to see his eyes, and tenderly touch his face. Moving the heavy cloak that covered her, she shivered at the cool dampness of the air. Erik didn't move.

Christine, one slow movement at a time, slid from under Erik's arms laying them on his chest. He stirred only briefly before the steady rhythm of his breathing returned.

Christine felt her way along the smooth surface of the wall until she found the wood spindle of the chair that rested next to the table. Trying to be as quiet as she could, she searched the table with her hand, finding the uneaten biscuits, the knife, and the opened jar of preserves. Reaching further back, she found the candlestick and next to it the small tin that contained the matches she had observed Erik use earlier. Ever so carefully, she slipped the lid from the container and pulled a match from the cylinder and struck it on the gravelly side of the lid. The smell of sulfur and the blue-turned orange flame flickered to life.

In this brief illumination Christine glanced over her shoulder to see if Erik had stirred. Assured that he was still heavy in his slumber, Christine reached over and let the flame join with the candlewick. The room began to glow in a bath of soft amber light. The room's odd round shape provided no corners for darkness to rest. A golden bubble enveloped them.

Moving slowly, she returned to Erik and knelt down at his side. Curiously she studied the strong outline of his jaw, rugged and handsome. With his face half turned she could barely see his mask. His lashes were long and black, and slight lines traveled from the corners of his eye. His brow was not furrowed but relaxed, revealing a smooth forehead that traveled up to his hairline. How perfectly his black hair blended with his skin. His ear cupped just slightly, an advantage Christine thought for one who loved music as he did.

Her face traveled down his cheekbone strong and proud. She noted the tiny scars faint now from years of healing, but still there to the observant eye, no doubt from the horrors he had known as a child. At last she looked at his lips, slightly parted to allow his breath to rush in and out of his lungs.

No longer able to manage wandering his face with just her eyes, she reached out and gently stroked his lower lip with her forefinger. That made him purse his lips and pull them in to rewet them. She smiled to herself in her boldness that she had tickled him so.

She moved back just a bit to take in Erik the man, lying there with his long legs extended in front of him, his broad shoulders leaning against the wall, arms folded neatly at his waist. He appeared a gentleman at leisure. Had he been born with no flaws, likely he would have been a man who tormented girls with his good looks, and perfect manners, as well as his melodious song. Most likely having never noticed such a small chorus girl as herself.

As he sat there now before her, she considered the magnitude of the efforts that he had gone to in order to guard her and guide her. To encourage and teach her, to ultimately love her. She sat back on her knees and fully appreciated him, thanking God that they were finally together, and for revealing to her the angel of music…..and sending her Erik the man.

Christine moved quietly back to Erik's side, nestling beneath the warmth of his cloak. Resting her head on Erik's chest, she didn't notice that his breathing had changed somewhat.

As soon as Christine stopped moving, Erik's eyes flicked open. Why had she been studying him so? Was she afraid now, was she in horror in the finality of her decision. Did she see Erik the monster? His mind began to race as he recalled the last few moments since Christine had left his side. He was clever enough not to have allowed her to notice that he had been staring at her through the small slits that parted his upper lids from his lower.

Erik tried to assure himself that had she felt any of those things she would have moved to the other side of the room, surely not been willing to return to the comfort of his embrace. Erik sat a long while not knowing if she had fallen asleep again, or if he dared move and disturb her.

He heard her draw in a long breath, and perhaps a soft yawn. Carefully, he lifted the cloak that had been draped over her. Looking down he felt Christine's head rise and he looked into those beautiful eyes. How they glistened in the soft glow of the candlelight. He smiled at her and reached down to kiss her on the forehead, drawing his arms tightly around her waist and lifting her up beside him.

Christine now sat with her head at his shoulder looking up into his eyes. She smiled back a comforted smile of reassurance that she was right where she wanted to be. The two sat just gazing into one another's eyes and studying the expressions on each other's faces.

Erik broke the silence first "Christine, you stirred long enough to light the candle, how then is it that I found you yet again in my arms…or perhaps the candle lit itself?"

Christine half giggled and put her head on Erik's shoulder, drawing even closer to him. Erik continued "the present danger is past now, but we must always be prepared lest they return here. Having found nothing they will continue to search, and we cannot stay in this place forever, it has little comfort to offer us."

Christine would have been content to stay there forever with Erik at her side. "Erik?" Christine started, "I would stay with you in the loft of a horse barn or the muddy depths of a moor, it doesn't matter to me as long as we are together." Erik loved hearing her speak those words to HIM, to only him. She was his, in all the ways that mattered most, and that was enough for him

"Christine, I must tell you that it both fills my heart with wonder and my mind with despair to hear you speak of this. A young woman must have hopes and dreams to have a family, a home to share." Erik felt at once sorry that he had thrown yet another seed of doubt into the room.

Without hesitation, Christine looked at Erik smiling sweetly, glancing first down and then moving closer to him, she turned her face up to his and tenderly kissed his lips. Backing away just far enough to look Erik in the eyes, she fixed her gaze on him with all the passion she felt inside of her "we shall have a family Erik, and a home is wherever the family is, wherever love lives."

Erik was undone. He pulled Christine up into his arms and began to kiss her passionately. Christine pulled her arms from his chest and flung them feverishly around his neck eagerly meeting his embrace. The kiss was one of deep passion and unexpressed yearnings, how quickly it warmed them both.

Erik suddenly pulled away, pushing Christine to the end of the length of his arms. "No" he breathed, turning his head from her view and pulling his knees up to his chest. Christine sat on the edge of his cloak not knowing why he turned from her.

"Erik? Have I done something wrong?" She said nervously biting her lower lip, still wet from the kiss they shared.

"No, Christine, you've done nothing wrong, in fact you are all that I'd ever dreamed of. Your beauty and innocence reach to the depths of my soul, filling it with joy." He turned to face her, his face shining with tears that were flowing down it.

Christine looked worried and she could feel the emotion swelling in her throat. "Erik, I thought that you loved me, wanted me here beside you…to share one love…one lifetime?" She said more as a statement and less as a question. Her head hung low now. "Your music stirred something in me that I never knew existed. A feeling that explained the blush on the face of nearly every bride I've ever seen."

Erik turned to look at her. Christine continued, "I do not wish to displease you. I was following my heart, listening to the sounds of your music in my head…." Erik leaned forward and lifted her chin.

"Christine what you are feeling, you no doubt know that I am feeling too. My only wish is one of honor, and I would never do anything that would find you in a situation of question. It is because of this that I stopped before your voice inside my head led me beyond recall."

Christine looked up at Erik, sensing for the first time he was speaking honestly and frankly to her as a woman, not his muse, not his pupil, but as a woman. Christine stared at him, not knowing quite how to respond.

"Christine, I must ask you something, and I do not need an answer this night, or the next, if it takes you some time to consider it, as it is a most serious question." Erik slipped from the ground and drew a knee beneath him and put one foot on the floor in a half-kneeling position. He pulled Christine to him, and she too was on her knees. Staring deeply into each other's eyes, Christine's eyes began to dance. A radiant glow overtook her face as though she was smiling from the inside and it could not be contained and overflowed.

Erik reached down into his pocket, pulling from it a small bit of wrapped fabric. Fumbling with the ties that secured it, he reached in and pulled out a ring. Christine's eyes grew wide as she took in the beauty of the stone that lie in the center of the ring. It wouldn't have mattered to her if the stone had been, well, just a stone, it was the band that held it's meaning….a golden, never-ending circle of trust and love.

Erik looked back from the ring and at Christine. She was trembling now, and not from the cold, but from sheer anticipation. Erik smiled at her noting her eagerness, and that reassured him, giving him courage to proceed.

Erik began "So many years ago your father left this earth, leaving against his will to ascend to heaven to be with his father before him. In his wisdom he prayed for one who would love and protect his only daughter, to guide her and guard her. His passions were few, you, his precious daughter, and his music. He prayed that one day she would meet a man that would love her and defend her, and bring her the happiness he could no longer provide for her. He wished only that she could find the happiness that he had found in the love he had for her mother before she died. He carried that wish with him to his grave, sending the prayer out into the heavens." Erick paused, searching Christine's face, taking her hands into his.

"That first night you came to the Opera House, I heard you crying in the darkness. I sensed your loneliness, and felt it too. I stayed by your side, teaching you the craft that your father loved so very much, learning from you what true beauty of spirit really was. I had never gazed upon a purer soul than yours. Over the years you grew and learned more than I had ever imagined. The music had started out as a means to distract you from your despair, but had become a gift of its own, and I watched as it became part of you, filling you with its sweet reward. It was then that I gazed on you as a woman…a woman in need of a suitable husband, one who would be kind and true….but I was saddened to think that one day I would have to let you go. I had come to love you, cherish you. When Raoul appeared as a suitor he frightened me."

Erik looked down from his gaze, fully knowing he was admitting to her his obvious jealousy. "Not because I thought he would do you harm, but because I knew he could offer you all of the worldly comforts that I could not. As my fear grew, the more desperate my need to hold onto you became. Raoul was not a bad man, he had simply become my enemy for he was trying to claim you, and I felt I could not let you go. In these pursuits I thought I had lost you forever…" Erik's voice cracked, and he fought the urge to stop.

"I thought you were gone to live your life happily with Raoul and that I would be alone once more. I could not bear to think of life in this place without you. I wrote Don Juan in hopes of snaring you, but secretly wishing you would see through it and know my real intentions, and come with me of your own free will. For something that is captured and held prisoner cannot be beheld."

Erik had flashes of his own past, being caged like an animal against his will…but his spirit never died, it yearned to be free. Erik closed his eyes and continued. "It was almost my undoing when I realized you had chosen to go with me, to follow me into the depths of this world, not really knowing what life you were choosing."

Christine looked pleadingly at Erik, embarrassed by all she was hearing. Erik looked up again, into Christine's eyes, "you were an answer to my fervent prayer….to have one to love and to hold, to feel love in return…" Erik could contain his tears no longer. He sobbed once and raised his hand to cover his face.

Christine lifted his chin with her hands, gently running her hands over the smooth exterior of his mask. She surveyed the outline of it and carefully let her fingers caress the edges of it. "Erik?" She said to him, looking him once again in the eye, "I need to see you, all of you…in a moment such as this, I need you to know that I love all of you, not just what my eyes now behold."

Erik furrowed his brow not understanding what she meant at first. Christine gently pulled at the edge of the mask, and Erik instinctively reached out to grab her wrist to stop her. She hesitated and reached out her hand gently entwining her fingers with his. She brought her hand to her shoulder and left Erik's hand to rest there. She once again reached up and tugged at the side of the mask until it loosened and was freed from its place.

Christine laid it gently on the folds of her dress and turned back to Erik. She freely ran her hands across the marred flesh, tracing the jaw and the brow.

Erik was overwhelmed at the contact of flesh against his hideous face. Never had anyone so freely touched him, the worst part of him. He shuddered but could not take his eyes off of Christine.

She reached out and gently kissed his lips. "Go on" she said smiling up at him.

Erik swallowed hard, feeling so exposed that his breath could barely escape his lungs. Christine's gaze never faltered, she never glanced away, she was looking at him, as a man, nothing more, nothing less.

"Christine" Erik began "the heavens have truly conspired to bring us together against all odds. I cannot believe in my heart that this would have happened except as the answer to long unanswered prayers…you were an answer to my prayer…and I can only hope that your father would accept me as an answer to his." The last words catching in his throat.

Christine looked deeply into Erik's eyes, and were met with all the intensity she knew belonged to her.

"Christine….would you share eternity with me, to share one love, one lifetime…..would you be my wife?" With that Erik gasped, knowing in that moment he had bared his soul to her as he had no other, and his very existence rested in her reply.

Christine, tears streaming down her face, her eyes darting around every inch of his, smiled widely. Without any doubt or reservation to the core of her being reached out and slipped her arms under Erik's, pulling him close to her.

Erik's heart leapt for joy, but did so with one final reservation. "Erik, my love, you need to know that there were not two prayers but three that filled the stars this night….for I had been praying for God to send you to me…" her eyes overflowing with tears of joy. "Erik, I'd wish for nothing more than to be with you for the rest of my days, and God willing, into eternity."

The two embraced in a passionate kiss. Their tears of joy mingling as their faces touched. They stopped to look at each other and smile before embracing once more. Erik reached down slipping the ring onto Christine's finger, wrapping his hand around hers and squeezing it tightly to ensure it's home was secure.

The pair got to their feet, each wiping the other's tears from their face, smiling as neither had smiled before. Christine turned away straightening her dress, and pushing back the brown curls that had fallen into her face. Wiping under each eye and running a finger below her jaw for good measure. She turned to Erik wanting to embrace him for all he was now, her love.

She moved toward Erik, but he grasped both of her hands in his, drawing her near to him. "Christine, a proper wedding, by all measures is impractical now. We would have much to overcome before anyone would be able to accept this choice, if ever they would."

"Erik, I've no need of this formality, as I believe we have already stated our love for each other, no words will make that more real, I.."

Erik interrupted her. "Christine, my feelings of passion for you are most evident, and long I have waited for you to feel the same. I have no intentions of making you a dishonored woman this night, you are worth far more than my fleshly desires."

"Erik, I …" "Christine, I love you, but without a blessing I shall not take you as my wife, it would be wrong in man's eyes, and in God's. Your father would be most displeased, and disappointed in us both."

Christine hung her head realizing that the words Erik spoke were true. She stared at the ground looking back and forth. "But how, ….who,… where would we be able to find.." Christine stopped as she knew her questions were fruitless. She felt guilty for even asking him.

"I have an idea, if you are willing to come with me?" Erik said looking at Christine.

"I will follow you anywhere…to the very ends of the earth if you'd ask it of me," she replied, an excited timber in her voice.

With that Erik moved the water pitcher and basin from the table and slid it across the room. He stood upon it and reached his arms above his head. Straining with his arms he began to slowly move the large slab of rock that covered the hole in the ceiling.

Christine looked up in amazement as she saw that it led to yet another cavern, but this one with a bit more light, but where did it come from? Erik first peeked his head through it looking carefully about to be certain that there were none there. He knew the tunnel could only be reached from the outside, but was careful none-the-less. Convinced that it was clear, he hoisted himself through the opening. Christine could hear his faint footsteps as he ventured further. She dared not call after him. He was gone only a few minutes before he returned and peered down at Christine. "It should be alright for us to go this way" Erik said. "Come, I'll lift you if you reach your arms up to me."

Christine looked up at him, and he seemed to be a world away. "May I have but a moment to collect my things?" she asked.

"We will return here as I am sure it is safe, and we will not be disturbed further this night."

"Erik, can you give me but a moment? There is something that I must do."

Erik looked down a bit confused but agreed to her request. Christine rushed over to her bag and from it pulled the ivory gown she had looked at early in the evening. She knew not if it was suitable, but it was beautiful and she wished only to look the part No beading, no ruffles, just a smooth expanse of delicate fabric that fluttered over her head and down onto her shoulders. She moved back and slipped once more into her cloak. She went to the table and looked up but saw no one. "Erik?"

"Yes?" came his response as he moved back into view. "I am ready" Christine replied. She went to the candle and snuffed it out with her fingers. Moving back to the table she climbed it, a little unsettled by the wobbly legs, she stretched out her arms toward the vast area above. Erik reached down and grasped both of her arms and hoisted her through the hole. He carefully stood her to one side and pushed the stone slab back to its resting place.

"Come…I know the way." Erik took Christine by the hand and led her up the winding path of the cavern. This tunnel was smaller than others and Erik had to crouch in many places in order to pass through. He held Christine's hand tightly as they wound their way up and up and up, turning several times before she saw the first glimmer of faint moonlight. It was still night? Christine thought. Or had night passed into day and into night again. She didn't know, and wasn't sure that it even mattered.

She began to smell the sweet essence of burning wood, a fragrant scent of pine, or balsam. The moon's glow grew brighter, piercing the darkness of their world. As they reached the opening to the cave, they crouched even further, and she heard Erik push yet another stone on it's side. He climbed out first and reached back in pulling Christine up to a sitting position on the firm ground. The chill of the night air rose from both of their mouths as their breath mingled with the frosty air.

Christine looked around and could see nothing but a massive canopy of trees and the hint of softly falling snow. It was a beautiful night filled with stuff of storybooks she thought to herself.

Erik rose to his feet, and held out his hand for Christine. She put her hand in his and rose to her feet as well. "Christine this is a place where we can receive the blessing that we desire, for if none object here, we shall be together before the sun rises."

Christine felt her heart thumping in her chest as she followed Erik through the trees, the snow softly crunching beneath her feet. At last they were in a clearing, and at once she realized what Erik had been talking about. She wrapped her arms around him, and he put his cloak around her. The pair walked into the field, steps in rhythm, and hearts soaring. "This is the perfect place." Christine said smiling up at Erik. "Perfect."


	16. Chills and Blessings

Reviews: 

Thank you again for all of your kind words. I am encouraged even more to continue…alas…who could abandon this thing….it has a life of its' own! I've decided to post three chapters at once, as it seemed far too cruel to leave one hanging for an entire weekend!

**Captain Oblivious:** I must admit that my cheeks ache a bit as I recover from the inflicted fit of laughter, having just read your carefully chosen words. "GLOMPING" is permitted, in fact encouraged at this point in the story. "Odd" is good in my intricately layered world…oddly…those words aren't…well…for lack of better words…odd at all! I hope you enjoy the twists and turns of the next chapters. PS. Oh, yes, you'd better mind your manners around Erik…his temper has been known to show itself in the form of a lasso! He likely wouldn't approve of your glomping HIS Christine!

**Glitter Queen of the Ice Show:** Thank you. I rather enjoyed penning the last chapter. Such tension is building now for this poor pair. And we know that tension has but two outlets….anger or satisfaction. Let us hope the latter prevails!

**AJNEMO: **Thank you for your compliment! No exploding is necessary. I've posted three chapters today…I just couldn't help myself.****

Chapter 16 Chills and Blessings 

Raoul lowered his aching body into the steaming water his maid had prepared for him. His damp and dirty clothing lying in a heap next to him on the floor. He sunk down into the tub until nothing rose above the surface save his head. Leaning back into the carved rest that was there for his neck, he sighed wearily.

He felt empty, hollow, defeated, as if he was dying. How could he have lost her? How could he have made her perform when she had begged him not to? How could she have returned to him…was she afraid that he would hunt them down and put an end to them both? Did she sacrifice her own life just to spare his? He felt a sickening knot in the pit of his gut.

Thoughts reeled in his head, emotions over took him. Raoul cried for the first time since he was a boy, wreaking further havoc on his body until he fell into a fitful sleep of exhaustion. The warm water provided much needed soothing for his strength-depleted muscles. Somewhere in his slumber he vowed to begin again in the morning, if only he knew where to start.

XXXX

Christine took in all of the wonder of the sleeping world and the beauty of the field as they crossed over the un-harvested hay that lay beneath their feet. She thought of little else except the man whose hand she was holding; the man she had grown to love, and cherish. Her former world dissolving with each resolute step the pair took.

Erik's keenly attuned eyes took turns from gazing down at her and scanning the horizon to be sure that none observed or followed them. At last they were at the edge of it, surrounded by a large thicket. Erik moved through, breaking branches and winching at the noise they made, knowing no alternative. He came back for Christine and led her through the roughshod hole in the growth.

Christine knew this place well. She had spent many hours here talking, praying. She could think of nothing more fitting than to be there with him on this special night.

Erik led Christine by the hand, passing row after row of bells and sculptured angels. As they neared the entrance of her father's mausoleum, she flashed back at the dark stains on the headstone where Raoul and Erik had both shed blood. She shook it quickly from her mind. THAT was not meant to be, THIS was meant to be and she no longer wished to think of anything but Erik, and Erik alone.

Erik led her to the steps in front of the monument, glancing up at the name DAAE etched on the crown. He cupped her face in his hands, breathing slowly as he whispered to her "Christine, this night your name shall change, but to what I do not know. For now I shall call you by your own name until I can bestow upon you a proper one."

Christine looked at Erik saying "a name is just a word, nothing more, it is the change in my heart that makes me yours." Erik embraced her kissing her head atop the mound of curls that surrounded her face.

They knelt together on the first step of her father's grave. Erik took her hands into his as he lowered his head. Christine did the same. The pair was trembling…not from the cold…but from the sheer glorious euphoria of what lay before them.

"Dear father we come before you now asking for your blessing on our lives. Our hearts are filled with joy and love, but we will proceed no further unless we know that you would not have objected to our pairing." Erik paused, glancing up at Christine, who herself was stealing a glance at him; they smiled as he continued. "The love I feel for your daughter is real and deep. So deep that I would lay my very soul open to see that no harm come to her." Christine squeezed his hand. "I have shared your music with her, adding some of my own, to cheer her spirit. She came to me in the stillness of the night when she missed you so, and I comforted her. I assisted her growth as you would have, allowing her own voice to take flight. I encouraged and protected her as if she was blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh." Erik paused, drawing in a long breath, moving closer to Christine. "On this night dear father, we ask for your blessing that the two of us become one flesh, no longer separate, but together forever."

Erik paused. In the stillness of the night could only be heard the sound of the falling snow. Erik looked at Christine, eyes wide with wonder and love. Her hair now glistened with a soft white covering of freshly fallen snow. He marveled at how much it resembled a delicate veil placed so perfectly on the head of his bride. He looked most seriously at her, somehow seeking final confirmation that she loved him enough to sacrifice their individual futures and become one in love….to share one lifetime.

Christine was flying, lost on the wings of her angel's touch. She could do nothing more than stare back into his piercing eyes. Suddenly, high above them, a burst of light streaked far up in the ink-black sky. A lone star raced across the galaxy, shooting off into the heavens as if illuminating the night just for them.

Erik and Christine looked at each other, a broad smile spread across both of their lips. They knew, in that moment, he approved. Erik pulled from his pocket a small number of pages, opening them carefully and reading them aloud to Christine.

"And the two shall be joined together, one flesh, one life, no longer separate, but joined together for eternity…let no man put asunder." He paused looking deeply into her eyes pulling her even closer. "Christine, will you have me to hold, from this day forward, in good times and in bad, sharing with me your life and your love, finding rest and peace in my arms, trusting in me for your happiness, forsaking all others until death us do part?"

Christine's eyes glistened in the moonlight. She reached out, placing her hand over Erik's heart. She looked up into his eyes and said "yes, I do." Erik smiled as tears of joy streamed down his face. Christine found her voice, "Erik, will you have me to hold, from this day forward, trusting in me to love and accept you, to make you feel whole, to share our love without doubt or reservation, forsaking all others until death us do part?"

Erik's voice cracked "yes, I will…with all of my heart and soul." The unadulterated force of that moment lacked description. It was as if two celestial spheres had collided, a fiery fission creating a new heavenly body, an object of awe and wonder for all the ages. The two embraced, flesh pressing against flesh, they could no longer be parted. The new husband and wife tarried a long while simply holding each other as their hearts exchanged promises, hopes and dreams for eternity.

Erik then took out a small prayer book, something he had picked up in the streets of Paris by a cathedral. Inside was a simple, humble prayer. Erik began "may the Lord God smile on you, may He be gracious unto you, may He grant you everlasting peace. May you keep Him always in your mind, ever fearful, ever mindful, that He is an omnipotent God. His blessings be with you as you make your new life together, and may He bless your union with many happy years."

Erik slowly closed the book. Looking at Christine, he took her face into his hands lifting her chin to meet his. "My wife, I love you more than life itself. I shall never forsake you or leave your side. No man on this earth is filled with more joy than I am. I can scarcely take it in that you have chosen to be mine…forever. From this night forward all that I am is yours, and all that you are is mine."

There on their knees, in the shadow of her father's grave, they received his silent blessing.

Just then, a small gust of wind whistled through the trees, making a small swirl of the freshly fallen snow. In the wintry glow of the pale moon, the snow glittered like a million diamonds suspended in the air to encircle them. Time stood still…for them…and them alone…a fated pairing…a true love to last for a lifetime.

Erik tenderly kissed Christine's trembling lips, wiping the tears from her eyes. She no longer looked away when he touched her face, for she was no longer a stranger, a demur girl in need of discretion. She was his wife, and she belonged to him…all of her now belonged to him.

Erik swept her up into his arms, covering her with his cloak. Christine clung to him resting her head on his chest. He carried her back toward the cavern, through the branches and across the field of hay. The faint trails of the shooting star still lighting the crisp night sky. A precious, starry winter night, full of promise, full of love, full of redemption.


	17. Of Memory and Dreams

Chapter 17 Of Memory and Dreams 

Raoul woke with a startle. Feeling the cold water against his skin he struggled to wake himself out of his groggy daze. He had been dreaming of the watery grave he nearly had succumbed to just hours before. The embers in the fireplace had lost most of their glow, and the room was no longer warm and inviting.

He pulled himself up out of the now tepid water and wrapped himself in the soft long towel on the chair beside him. He was awake, but plagued with the ache in his body, and a tired he'd never felt. "This is what death must feel like" he muttered to himself.

He slipped on his robe and the soft slippers that lay by the dwindling fire. They were warm on his feet providing some comfort to him. As he crossed his room toward his bed, he stopped to peer out his window. How the moon shown and twinkled off the fresh covering of snow. Raoul looked up at it high in the night sky and gazed at its vast luminosity.

How strange to be in the comfort of a warm home, with a comfortable bed awaiting him. He felt guilty for indulging in these simple pleasures. The night was silent, with the exception of the occasional hooting of a distant owl. He sighed, his chest feeling heavy from the invisible wound where his heart had been extracted.

He wanted to go back and search, to find her. She must be cold and afraid. No doubt she was shivering right now, cowering in a dark cavern hoping to be spared her life. He shook the thoughts from his head. He couldn't let his imagination create horrors that were unknown. As much as he feared for her safety, prayed for her comfort, he had a sense that one so driven to possess her would surely not mortally harm her. He may force her to sing, to serve him, to… NO! Raoul furrowed his brow, closing his eyes, and putting his hand over his face. NO! You cannot think that, Christine was a pure soul, surely he would spare her this pain!

Raoul looked out the window again to see a rabbit scampering across the snow. Stopping and starting again as if playing a game. A second rabbit appeared, slightly smaller, but it seemed that they were traveling together. The pair scampered off under the brush by the fence. "Even nature has decided to torture me with the reminder that for everyone there is a mate, two destined to be together." Raoul, wallowing in masochistic, self-imposed torture thought to himself.

Looking down he moved toward his bed, the fire beside it still glowing softly, emitting some warmth. He lifted the covers dragging his weary body into it. He closed his eyes as he said a silent prayer "Father, please keep her safe, protect her from all evil, may he have seen fit to provide her some warmth and comfort so as to spare her suffering…until I can find her and bring her home. Amen." He tried to push all the terror of the night from his mind. He must sleep, must sleep.

XXXXX

Madame Jiry was the last to stand in front of the Opera House as the flames were finally extinguished. The building was spewing smoke and vapor as if it was a great dragon or volcano being put to rest. The streets were pooled with blackened water that was rapidly become ice underfoot.

A few fireman were left in charge with a single tank of water left behind for their use. The others, including spectators, slowly began to vanish, retreating to the warmth of their homes or inns. They'd been witness to the greatest fire Paris had ever seen, consuming a beloved landmark in its fury. From the outside the building looked no worse for wear, spare the broken windows and darkened ledges where flames had peeled out to stain it with its smoky char.

She stood before it, looking at the hissing shell, wondering most about the souls that might have been lost within it. Madame Giry knew that the two likely perished in the fires, or were trapped below it, having no chance for escape. The crowds were gone now, and save the three firemen who were warming their hands over a small fire contained in a large metal pail, the streets were empty. Madame Giry looked down and said a silent prayer. "May they all be in your hands tonight Lord, and may your will be done." With that she raised her head, and turning to leave.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. "Mother?" She saw Meg smiling at her, extending one of the two steaming cups of dark liquid she had in her hand. "Mum, come inside, this nice innkeeper said that we may stay with her tonight, and perhaps beyond if we find it necessary."

Madame Giry took the brew gratefully to her lips and inhaled the aroma. She was chilled far below her skin, but had failed to notice it until now. "Thank you Meg" she smiled at her daughter through the steamy vapor rising from her cup. The two walked toward the inn where the innkeeper stood in the doorway, a small candle lighted in her window, welcoming them inside. "You look frightful cold mum, come sit down by the fire and warm yourself." The heavy wooden door closed behind them.


	18. Silent Night, Perfect Night

Chapter 18 Silent night, perfect night 

Erik was at the entrance to the tunnel. Setting Christine down lightly on her feet he moved the heavy stone covering its entrance. Slipping Christine in first, and then coming in behind her, he moved the stone back in place. He was grateful that the snow had begun to fall again, quite heavily now, concealing their tracks beneath it…he wouldn't have to return later to brush them away. Turning to face Christine, in the darkness he felt her reaching out for him.

She grabbed his cloak pulling him toward her, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss. Erik took her up into his arms once more, carrying her down, down, down, until they came to a small widening of the tunnel, flat and smooth. He put Christine down on her feet. Knowing she could not see him, he caressed her face as he began to gently turn her round and round, his one hand about her waist. His voice barely above a whisper now, letting a sweet love song escape his lips. A mixture of words she knew, and those of a foreign tongue blending together in perfection.

She gently put one hand on his shoulder, feeling for his other as it met hers. He led her in a graceful dance with such elegance he could have been a noble. Christine found herself lost in the euphoria of the music, entranced by the very wonder of it. She closed her eyes though she shouldn't need to in such blackness, but it felt as though it heightened her ability to hear somehow. She drank in each tender note of the voice that sang it, wanting only for more.

Erik's steps became slower changing to a slow swaying motion. Christine could feel his warm breath on her cheek, his strong chin against the side of her forehead. She shuddered at the sensation of this closeness, feeling for once unashamed of the passion that now grew within her. She no longer needed to deny him, nor he her. Her skin tingled, every nerve ending demanding to be attended to..

She reached up to turn Erik's head toward hers. His cheek now damp from the tears he was silently shedding as he sang softly to her. "Erik?" Christine said in a breathy whisper. Taking his face in her hands she guided it down to meet hers.

Their lips met tenderly. Several times at first ever so gently, and then more passionately the longer they held the embrace. They continued to sway back and forth Their strange duet now blending music in their heads.

Erik pulled Christine even closer, holding her tightly before sweeping her up into his arms once more. Traveling down through the tunnels humming to her a sweet soft melody, as she lay against the warmth of his neck, teasing him with feather-light kisses on his chest.

Christine had never felt so safe, so loved, not since she was a child held in her father's lap. She no longer doubted, had no reservation, about being with him. If that meant a lifetime spent in caves beneath the busy world above, then she would set her mind to making it a lifetime to remember…with him.

Before long, Erik carefully set Christine on her feet again. She heard the scraping of the stone against stone, realizing that they were back to the place they had left not long ago. "Christine, give me your hands, I'll lift you down and only let go when you are sure of your footing."

Christine reached out to him in the darkness grasping his strong arms, and felt herself being lowered to the depths below. Once securely on the table she said "I'm alright now."

Erik replied "good, I'll be back in a moment, there is something that I must tend to, but I will not be long."

"Erik? What…" She could hear his faint footsteps in the distance. She knew he wouldn't be long as he had not covered the hole, and would never have left this open if he hadn't intended to return quickly. Christine stepped down onto the chair and then the floor. She lit the candle on the table, and then thinking better of it, quickly put it out. Light traveled such a distance, and she couldn't be sure… She moved over to her bags feeling within them until she found a brush. Quickly running it through her hair, pulling it back up with a silk ribbon she had retrieved from the bag.

Next, she dug deeper, finding a small tin that she knew contained stain for her lips. She carefully removed the cover and dotted a bit on her finger pressing it against her lips. She carefully smoothed it over first her bottom lip and then her top. Putting this back in her bag she felt around until she found that which she sought. A small bottle filled with a perfumed oil. Opening it she was greeted with citrus, much like the scent of fresh oranges on a warm summer afternoon. She dabbed a bit behind her ears, running her finger along her collarbone.

She put everything back into the bag and drew the strings firmly over it. Turning she felt her way along the wall until she came to the blankets that covered the straw pile below. It crunched beneath her when she pushed on it. "It's not exactly a feather bed." She said just below her breath.

"It wasn't meant to be." She turned with a start. She had not even heard Erik's footsteps or his descent to the table within the room. "Erik, you startled me!" She said her pulse racing now out of fright.

"I am quite sorry my dear, I am used to being stealthy in my movements, it has served me well over the years."

She heard the slow, forceful movement of the stone above them. She heard Erik take the tin from the table and strike a match for the candle. Christine noticed the sweet smell of pine even before her eyes adjusted to the light. There, Erik stood before her with a large bouquet of holly and berries, mixed with a few sprigs of pine. He had lashed them together with grapevine.

"No bride shall have to do without a bouquet." Erik smiled at her moving toward her. Christine's eyes grew wide and then she closed them taking in the sweet, sweet, fragrances of the pine. She looked down at the smooth glossy leaves of the ivy, each one rimmed in white. The berries were a brilliant crimson. She'd never seen a more beautiful arrangement.

"Thank you Erik, a fortunate bride indeed." Erik returned her smile.

Christine walked past Erik placing the bouquet at the top of the makeshift bed. Erik watched her every movement with his eyes. Christine asked "Will we be traveling any further this night?"

Erik shook his head no, unable to speak. "Good, then I shan't be needing this anymore." Christine reached up and undid the tie to her cloak, letting it drop from her shoulders. Erik had not noticed before what she had worn beneath the cloak, but now she stood before him, her soft ivory gown shimmering in the glow of the flickering candle. His breath caught in his throat as he took in the raw, unparalleled beauty of all that was Christine.

She smoothed the dress down into place, looking back up at Erik who had her firmly in his gaze. "I did not know what this garment was suitable for, but it was so beautiful, and the color so lovely, I thought it seemed fitting for…." Erik closed his mouth, and his eyes, almost feeling shame for having stared at her so. "Yes, yes, it suits you" is all he could manage before turning away.

"Erik? There is no question remaining in your mind now, no shred of doubt that still needs to be allayed is there?"

"No" he said under his breath. He swallowed hard and began "this is a night I could have only dreamed of, in my wildest dreams….it is something that I have longed for, prayed for….now that it is here I am at a loss for words."

Christine moved toward him, reaching up around his neck to undo his cloak. Taking it from his shoulders.

Erik turned to look at Christine who stood before him now, wanting him for the man that he was…her husband. Erik took off first his long jacket, and then his vest. Christine reached up and undid the black cravat that held his shirt in perfect place, pulling it free dropping it to the floor.

Erik moved away, toward one of the other boxes at the back of the room. He struggled to remove the lid, but when he did, he pulled from it two large blankets, a silk sheet, and a lambs wool covering. Walking over, he placed them on the nest that would serve as their wedding bed.

Christine looked down at the bundle and then back up at Erik. She turned herself to spreading the blankets and sheet out over the others that were already in place. Rising to her feet, she found Erik at her side, chest bare.

His arms wrapping gently around her, he embraced her as he never had before. Kissing her passionately, their minds both swirling with emotion. He looked into her eyes and took her head into his hands saying "Christine my darling, you shall never be alone, I shall never leave you or forsake you, I love you with all of me, my dear, dear, precious wife."

The pair stared deeply into one another's eyes, wishing once again that time would stand still for that singular moment. Erik reached down to Christine's hips, gently pulling the length of the fabric that covered her, up to her shoulders and over her head. There the two stood, fully exposed in the chill of the night air, neither feeling the cold, but only the warmth that burned inside them. Erik lifted Christine into his arms and gently laid her down onto the soft lamb's wool covering below. Taking her into his arms tenderly, covering her with the silken sheet, he embraced her, his Christine.

She looked tenderly into his eyes and smiled saying "my dear husband, take that which is yours…. love all of me, as I do you." And the two became as one….


	19. A midwinter nights misery

Chapter 19 A mid-winter night's misery 

Raoul jerked awake, sitting upright in his bed, gasping for breath, "NO.." rolling off his tongue. These nightmares were only the beginning, he thought dreadfully to himself. His heart thumping so loudly he swore it echoed in the hollow room. He slid from under the sheets, feet facing the floor still resting on the bed. The night flashing before him. Only one day before she had slept in her bed in the comfort of the dormitories. She had slept with the belief that he would protect her, guard her, guide her. All of his promises lie in the ashes of the Opera House now.

He held his head in his hands, running his fingers through his hair and down the back of his bent neck. Raoul stood, walking over to the window he saw the first glimmers of daylight on the East horizon. It would be morning in a few short hours. He could begin his search again. This time with a much larger group of men, and a days provisions with them so they would not have to turn back until every inch of the caverns had been searched. He'd send out scouts to the woods, the byways, the inns. If he had been able to escape with her, he would be found. If he had stayed in those caves, he would be found.

Determination in his jaw, Raoul slipped out of his nightclothes and went to his closet for his garments. Morning had not yet broken, but he would be ready to greet it when it did.

XXXXX

Madame Jiry looked over at Meg who was sound asleep on the bed. She'd never made in that far. She had been sitting wrapped in a blanket in a chair by the window. All night she had watched carefully as the firemen went in and out of the building, each returning, shaking his head. The fire was not completely out, she could tell by the smoke that still seeped out through the broken window panes. She'd kept vigil through the darkness of the night, desperately hoping to a see a pair of shadows emerge from the side door that Erik always used. Alas, there had been none.

With a big sigh she pulled herself away from the window with cup in hand. She walked over to the fireplace and retrieved the kettle, refilling it. She couldn't remember when last she'd eaten, her stomach rumbling now.

She made her way down to the kitchen. Finding a loaf of bread with a large hunk of cheese lying next to it. A few sweet savories in a jar next to that, along with a note. "Madame Jiry, please help yourself to something if you wake before breakfast." She smiled and laid the note back down on the cupboard. She sliced several pieces of bread a few of cheese. Putting it on the plate left for her, she walked back up to her room.

Meg had not woken, she was thankful. She must be exhausted from the travails of the night; not knowing where her friend, nay, sister might be now. Madame Jiry lifted the crust and cheese to her lips and sunk her teeth into them, tasting first the sweetness of the bread, and then the saltiness of the cheese. It was a wonderful treat. She took several sips of her strong coffee to wash it down. She was thankful to be alive, and thankful for the generosity of a stranger, who had taken them in. Madame Jiry finished her bread, and the last of her coffee. Looking down at the empty plate, her thoughts trailing off… "I hope that they are all alright…" she closed her eyes and leaned against the window sill. Sleep tugging at her, although she couldn't bring herself to give in to it. So many lives hung in the balance…one never knowing which way the scales would tip.


	20. The brightness of a morning in the dark

Chapter 20 The brightness of a morning in the dark 

The cave was still cool, the candle nearly at the end, a quarter inch lay between its burning glow and its final flicker. Erik's eyes opened. He blinked several times, not wanting to spoil this wonderful dream. He turned his head ever so slightly to look at the mountain of curls that lay on his chest. It had not been a dream, he smiled to himself, and then a pained expression overtook his face. "How could this have all come to pass…?" His mind working feverishly retracing each step of the night before. It had all happened so fast. The whirlwind of the escape, the fight, the return….the vows.

In spite of himself, the blissful smile returned to his face, his eyes glowing now. He reached out and pulled the sheet over Christine's bare shoulder. She was in his arms, no longer was it a vision, a distant dream, an unfulfilled yearning. She belonged to him…and he to her. There was something graceful about the way Christine breathed in and out, in and out. Her lips pink and puffy as she lay on his chest, eyes closed, in a peaceful sleep.

She was as beautiful a creature as he had ever laid eyes on, and she was his…wife. He stroked the side of her cheek with the back of his index finger, tracing the curves of her face with his hand, gently pushing the long brown curls away from her eyes. Erik closed his eyes, "thank you… for bringing her to me…for letting her save me from my solitude. Please give me the strength and the courage to provide for her all that she needs and….deserves. If in your infinite wisdom you bless us with children…." Erik choked back a sob, "please let them be as beautiful as this creature." Erik wrapped his arms around her shoulders, caressing her back.

Christine felt the warm sensation of a hand running like a feather up and down her skin. She was so warm, so relaxed….so happy. Slowly waking from her sleepy slumber, she felt her hand on Erik's chest. She let her hand wander up to his shoulder, and across his chest and back down to her face. She ran her hand down along his waist and curled it around his side, using the embrace to pull herself up closer to his shoulders.

Erik could feel her movement beneath his arms. Suddenly he wasn't sure what he would say to her. The night before no words were needed, the love was evident in their embrace. But he had never greeted a "wife" in the morning and knew not how it should be done.

Christine took care of that for him as she reached up to his face and caressed it. Then sliding up and propping herself on one elbow, she saw that Erik's eyes were open too. Smiling at him, she ran her fingers through the curls of his hair. Looking down into his eyes, she spoke volumes. Erik just looked at her. His eyes roaming each inch of her face, the frame of brown tendrils, the curve of her neck. She caressed his cheeks, and let her hands wander his neck and shoulder.

He reached out and touched the curls hanging down onto his chest, following them up to her face. They sat staring into one another's eyes for a long, long, while. Then, Erik gently put his hand behind her neck and pulled her down into a warm embrace. Their lips met, reigniting the passions from the night before. Neither had been so happy, perhaps ever in their lifetimes. Neither had felt so close to anyone. Neither had been so content to stay in one place as they were now. Neither had reason to leave, or want to turn from the feelings they now shared. Morning would wait, the night was still theirs to love.

Somewhere…in the darkness….a swirl of balance traversed the distance between the new love in the caverns deep beneath the earth…and the ashen reality that lay on its crust…two hearts beating in love…many hearts filled with anguish….one heart splayed open…bleeding…thirsting for resolution…for vengeance…that of the lone wolf…that hunts until satisfied or vanquished……


	21. Lone Wolf

Author's notes: 

Sorry that the response to your reviews did not appear with the last chapters…I must have posted the wrong chapter copy. Thank you for continuing to share as this story develops!

Captain Oblivious: Glomping has become a favorite pastime for you! It is good to see you heeded the warning about Erik's temper…tapping would certainly be forgiven….let us hope anyway for your sake! Yes married…alas the pair could not be kept apart forever…but maybe they shall be parted…..(nothing is quite as much fun as taunting…well…perhaps glomping in your case!) Thank you for pointing out Jiry….I'm afraid my misspelling of names has become quite a flaw of mine. Now, I must confess I've delved into the darker side of my psyche for some of what is yet to come….

Ethalas Tuath'an: No bubble room for this pair…just a temporary haven to shelter them on this all important night!

Glitter Queen of the Ice Show: Yes, the marriage part is quite tricky isn't it…but who could have inserted a priest into this story without it becoming something quite like a story that Bramm Stoker would have penned for Dracula! Chapter 21 Lone wolf 

Raoul was dressed. He had woken a maid to prepare a satchel of provisions, and a simple breakfast. He tasted nothing as he wolfed down the eggs and biscuits. Hot coffee filling his stomach as his veins coursed with caffeine. His stableman brought his steed to the back door of the kitchen as instructed. Raoul gathering his things, putting on his cloak, slipping his sword into its sheath, walked out the door, mounting the animal gaving two swift jabs to its sides. Raoul disappeared into the distance. Towards the city where his very lifeblood ran.

The sun was barely at the top of the trees now on the East horizon. The air was frightful cold, and tinged with the scent of burning wood. On any other winter morning that would have seemed inviting, very normal. But on this morning, the scent was disconcerting, as all knew it was from the burning remains of the city's pride and joy. All of society would be aghast. What fodder for conversation over morning tea. Ghost stories had always been a titillating delight for the highbrow, and this surely would fan the flames for it. A man, a ghost, an apparition…whatever it was, it would surely be on the tips of everyone's tongues this morning.

Raoul rode into the city, slowing for nothing. He nearly collided with a milk wagon as it careened around the corner on its usual route. He dodged it causing the horse to rear up and topple a few precious bottles of the white liquid on the ground. He continued on past the bakery, the newspaper, the council office. Coming to a halt in front of the police office. Finding the door locked, he began to beat on it with great force. A weary man, still in his bedclothes, answered the door. Peeking out, nightcap still atop his head, blinking trying to acclimate his eyes to the growing light.

"Why are you not up man, we must begin the search, where are your men?" Raoul demanded an answer, scanning the horizon eagerly with his eyes. "Monsieur, it's wee early in the morning, they are at home in their beds, where you should be." The officer snapped back, obviously agitated now that he'd been taken from his slumber. "The wicked never rest, nor shall we…we must begin immediately, lest we give that monster any further opportunity to wage his war on this city and its citizens." The officer looked down, shaking his head. He never moved from the door or offered Raoul admittance.

"The men are in bed. I'll not disturb them. It is not yet fully morning, and many were out with you late into the night, they need to rest. You've found nothing, it's obvious he's escaped. I know you long to rescue your precious fiancé, but from the sounds of things, she wasn't exactly taken against her will."

With that Raoul flew into an angry rage. He mounted his horse, glancing back at the man in the door. "As soon as your men have had their beauty rest, send them into the caves to meet me, and make sure they bring their precious whiskey and bread so they have no excuses to leave this time." Raoul galloped off toward the Opera House, a dusting of snow rising from the beat of the horse's hooves.

"The law in this city explains the crime rate," Raoul thought to himself. He would search alone. He was neither afraid of a man-made ghost, nor the man behind the legend. Christine would not forgive him for allowing her to stay with that monster for an entire night. She would feel betrayed, abandoned, full of despair. Raoul was unaccustomed to letting his emotions get to him. The wet of the tears freezing quickly to his cheek.

Coming to the side of the Opera House, he was greeted by two firemen. "Vicomte De Chagny, good..I mean…morning to you sir. Why are you back so early? The fire is nearly out now, but I'm afraid it will be near a total loss on the lower levels sir." The two fireman looked at one another as Raoul dismounted. "I'm not concerned for this structure, it can be repaired. I must go inside to see if anyone is left there." Raoul was straightening his jacket, handing the lead to his horse over to one of the men.

"Monsieur, I am quite sorry, but it is not safe for you to go in, I can assure you that we have checked thoroughly, and no one is left inside. Had they been, they would have been consumed by the fire, overcome by the smoke, or drowned in the water from our wagons." Raoul looked at the man, "I must go in, our prize new soprano is missing. I am certain that she is being held captive, awaiting rescue, it is my duty as patron.."

The older of the two men stepped forward, putting a firm hand on Raoul's shoulder. "Sir, I know that she was your fiancé. She had the voice of an angel, and the beauty to match Sir. This is a great loss…I have compassion for your anguish, having myself lost a wife to tragedy, I know it is very difficult."

Raoul looked wide eyed at the man standing there, a father stand-in trying to comfort him in his loss. Raoul's face paled, he felt dizzy, his heart sinking at the realization that what this man spoke might indeed be true. "Young Sir, take rest in the café across the street, it's just opened its door for business not half an hour ago. We will go back in and poke around a bit, and come to report to you as soon as we are able." Raoul nodded in agreement. The other man led his horse back to the stables in at the rear of the Opera House. Aside from the pungent smoky scents in it, it was largely untouched by the ravages of the fire.

Raoul felt like the walking dead. A shell with no soul. His coat hanging open, the icy chill of the piercing wind reaching beneath it like steely fingers digging in for the warm flesh it hungered for. He walked slowly, mechanically, toward the café. In the early morning light the shopkeepers window looked warm and inviting, though Raoul was certain no morning beverages would quell the sorrow that was rising within him.

He pushed the door open, the hinge creaking, and the scraping of wood on wood of the uneven door. A bell clinked above him to alert the shopkeeper that he had company. "Good morning to you Sir" said the scruffy old man behind the counter. "A bitter cup this morning for ya?" The man smiled a half-toothy smile. Raoul stood looking at him and then walked over and sat at one of the small tables in the corner, being certain to place himself where he could see the front doors of the Opera House.

"Right big fire they had there last night. No one died from what I hear, but who knows with a blaze like that. Might be days before someone comes to claim their loved ones who never came home." The man was walking toward Raoul now, cup in one hand, heavy kettle in the other. He sat the cup down on the table and poured the steaming hot liquid up to the rim. "You be needing any cream, sugar?" Raoul shook his head no. The man went back to the stove and sat the kettle back down.

"Yes, this will sure be hurting the businesses round here, we relied on those guests to keep us going most days. Who knows if they will even fix it up, or if anyone would return if they did considering that monster and all." Raoul looked curiously at the man. "Monster?" Raoul inquired. "You know that masked monster that they say roamed the halls at night, stealing food, drinking blood, or whatever he did there. Very few ever dared to see him and live to tell of it. They say one night a whole horse went missing!"

The man's eyes now wild in the heat of telling a story. One could tell that he was crafted at spinning a yarn. He moved toward Raoul's table, brining his heavy pewter cup along with him. "He terrorized any that dared enter his world. He was strange, and terrifying they say." The man shook his head as he sat in the chair across from Raoul's without invitation. "Odd that a monster would take a fancy for the noise of the opera. No offense sir, but it sounds like a bunch of lasses stepped on broken glass and started howling."

A fleeting smile broke across Raoul's face. "They say he watched from Box 5, though no one ever saw him there. Then the next day some would get letters telling them what they could do better." He laughed. "A ghost critic."

Raoul's face returned to the stony gaze as he looked upon this man, who all could tell ina brief glance had been around a good number of years. "No one really knows where he came from or why he stayed here. I don't recall hearing of him as a child, but then what do children believe of such frightful fables."

Raoul took his first drink of coffee. It was indeed bitter, but the heat of it felt good on his throat. "Did you ever see him….the Phantom." Raoul asked. "No Sir, not to my reckoning. One night though, I was at my shop and I heard some noises in the back alley. I'd put the trash and some old crates back there. I went to the screen and peeked out. The crates were gone, and I saw a cape fluttering around the corner, then it disappeared. Don't know if it was him, but sure mighta been." The man had a distant look in his eye, as though he was talking about meeting the King himself.

"I guess I'd say I've been right lucky. Some of the shopkeepers talk about finding things missing from their shops, and mysterious pieces of silver lying in their place. At least he's not a robber! I've always just put a paper bag with some breads in the back alley, and in the morning they're gone. Don't know who I might be feeding, but at least I've not found my shop broken into!"

Raoul sat listening to the man for nearly an hour. The stories seemed to get larger as the light rose and coffee cooled. "Good sir, thank you for the coffee, I must be on my way, how much can I leave for you?" "No, no, sir, this has been my treat. Not many customers roaming the streets this morning, I enjoyed the company." Raoul smiled and thanked the man one last time, walking toward the door. He turned as he opened the door. "Good sir, may I ask a favor of you?" "Why of course." The man responded. "Tonight, please leave the same bag of bread behind your shop." Raoul took out a few coins from his pocket and laid it on the table by the door. "I'll pay you for your troubles."

"There's no need to pay sir, I would do it anyway." "No, I insist. It will be as a favor to me if you are willing to oblige." The man nodded and took the coins and put them in his pocket. Raoul walked out of the shop, and back towards the Opera House. The man chuckled to himself. "Paid for something I would do anyway…at least it makes up for the lack of business this morning." The old man walked to the back of his shop and peered out the door. The brown bag he'd placed outside last night was still there this morning. Maybe the Phantom had perished in the fire, he thought to himself.

Raoul looked across the street at the lone fireman still warming his hands on the dwindling fire. The other man had indeed gone inside as he said. Raoul was unaccustomed to sneaking around, as in his position, that was unacceptable behavior. However, in this instance, he knew of no other way to gain admittance.

Raoul scoured the street for a stone. Finding nothing but a loose and crumbling brick, he discreetly put it under his cloak. Strolling in the other direction, down the line of the shops away from the Opera House. Once behind the blacksmith's shop, he turned to check the whereabouts of the fireman. Still warming his hands, and staring into the fire. "Good" Raoul said under his breath. With all the force he could muster, Raoul heaved the brick as far as he could. It landed with a large thud near the front door of the Opera House. The fireman looked up, not being able to see the front door, he left his post and ran toward the front of the building. This was Raoul's opportunity.

Raoul wrapped his cloak tightly around him, he ducked as low as he could making his way swiftly to the side door. He slipped in quickly, pulling the door closed behind him. He was inside now, how long or how far he would have to go, he did not know, but he would search ever inch of the space below the Opera House, until he either found her, or knew that she was gone. Praying the latter would not be true.


	22. Basking in the moment

Chapter 22 Basking in the moment 

Christine and Erik had been awake for hours. Never having been able to fall back asleep. They lay comfortably in one another's arms. The warmth of touching skin blending as one. Erik had asked her to tell him of her childhood, and her sweetest memories of her father.

This was nearly Christine's favorite subject. She talked and talked about their long walks by the sea, her father playing the violin for her while she was falling asleep. She spoke of bed-time stories, candy treats tucked in her pockets, and secret notes tucked inside her schoolwork. Her father had loved her greatly, and she no doubt adored him. Erik was content to have her lying on his chest, tendrils of soft brown hair flowing down his side, running through his fingers.

Christine had started drawing objects on Erik's chest with her index finger, as she was telling him about how she and her father would draw pictures in the sand by the sea on their sunset walks, and how they would eagerly go out the next morning at dawn to see what the ocean had made of them. Usually, they would find the sand soft and smooth, with no traces of the work they had done the evening before. Christine sighed. "That is when my father would tell me, no matter how one day goes, when the sun falls, and the world sleeps everything is renewed, we start each day with a new slate, making of it what we will, drawing a new picture each day for us to enjoy." Christine smiled up at Erik. "Today, that is what we are doing." Erik began rubbing Christine's back. "Indeed we shall." Erik replied.

"Erik?" Christine said. "What is it?" Erik mused. "I've been thinking while we talked, if you wouldn't mind…." "Yes, Christine?" "When we are blessed with our first son, could we name him after my father?" "Christine, we are getting a bit ahead of ourselves aren't we?" Erik said with a slight laugh in his voice. "I know, I know." Christine replied, snuggling even closer to him. "It is just that I think he will have all of your talent, and my father's too, and since he honored us with a reply on our wedding night, it seems fitting." Erik stroked Christine's hair. "Their wedding night." How sweet that sounded rolling off of her tongue. How could one man be so fortunate to be blest with such a siren. "I think it is just right…when the time comes."

Christine smiled and pulled herself to rest on her elbow, looking Erik in the eye. "This is our first day as husband and wife, what shall we do now?" Erik blinked several times, not knowing how to reply. Christine started running her fingers through his hair, caressing his cheek. "I know we have much to do, and danger still lurks around every corner, but I refuse to let that spoil our happiness. We will not be robbed of these sweet memories." Erik nodded his head in agreement.

Erik pulled himself up to a sitting position, covers up to his waist, and Christine now sitting at his side. "I must take you someplace so you can be warm, and fed." Erik said reaching over, brushing the curls away from Christine's face. "I know of several places where we might go, but it will require waiting until nightfall. It is certain that the search will continue in fervor for many days, until they are satisfied that we have gone or perished." For the first time in many hours, a darkness fell in Erik's eyes. His concern returning in the furrow of his brow.

"Christine, it is entirely possible that you may never see those you've grown up with again. I regret that this may come to pass." Erik averted his eyes from Christine. Christine looked down too, saying under her breath "Meg…Madame Giry…" She hadn't really thought of that consequence until now. "Erik, I must admit that this saddens me, as I am certain it does you…but one day we would have all been parted if not by marriage, then death….nothing lasts forever."

Erik looked at Christine, marveling at her wisdom for such youth. "My father loved me….but he could not stay forever….this does not diminish the love I have for him…or my wonderful memories of him and our time together….so it will be with Meg and Madame Giry…" She looked up at Erik, who was staring at her now.

"Christine, your wisdom astounds me more often than not. How blessed I am to have such a compassionate wife." He loved saying wife…it was quite literally music to his ears. He smiled at her, pulling her close, placing a tender kiss on her lips.

There the two sat, wrapped up in the blankets, and in each other's arms. They knew not what the future held, or where tomorrow might find them…they only knew that they would face it….together.


	23. Down Once More

Author's notes:

Once again, thank you to my reviewers. I am most grateful that I am not alone on this journey!

Captain Oblivious: Life size Erik doll? I want one! Fragmented sentences are the bane of my existence, but alas, they rather match the thoughts of my wandering mind. Please forgive me…I've just lost myself in thought.

Glitter Queen of the Ice Show:  Thank you. It was a beautiful dream in my mind…and I'm never quite sure how it comes out on "paper." I can hear the music in my head and everything as I write…I'm quite crazy you know! Thanks for reviewing!

AJNemo:  Yes, the chapters are coming fast and furious, it seems I cannot stop the flow now that I've opened the floodgates. I'm sorry that it is hard to find, I don't know what I might be doing that keeps the story hidden!

Sapphire Tearz: Thank you for your kind words. I do like the sappy sweet stuff myself…so I assumed Christine might too!

Bexxy: Classy? What a wonderful thing to say….it made my steps lighter all night after reading your review! I too struggle over the Raoul/Christine, Erik/Christine issue. The more I watch the movie version (I'm sure it's nearly a hundred times by now) the more I see the love between Raoul and Christine, especially when he proposed on the roof….it makes it so hard to choose…I guess I sympathize with Christine…it was a tough one! I rather fancy the "right side of danger" so Erik won out!

**Chapter 23 Down once more….lost, but found**

Raoul was at the entrance to the tunnel behind the thick black drape. He was cold, wet, yet filled with determination that the search this time not come up empty. The muscles in his left arm screamed under the weight of the torch he now bore, reminding him of his exhaustion of the previous evening. He entered the tunnel, sword securely in his belt, pack slung over one shoulder, and the torch in his left hand. He wandered down to the point where he had taken the left tunnel, not the right. The left had proved to be fruitless, he would go right.

The tunnels were narrow; a morbid chill hung in the air. After traveling some time, going up and then down again, Raoul came to yet another split in the tunnel. First he went to the right, that ended abruptly. He returned to the fork, proceeding alternatively to the left. That tunnel plunged deep into the earth. A strange odor, somewhat like sulfur became stronger and stronger, making his eyes burn.

Finally Raoul came to an eerie lake of sorts. Lifting his torch high above his head he could see something resembling a murky lagoon. The water was green, covered with a thick, sickly scum. There were stones placed down the center, appearing to be a man-made walkway, if one were careful. Raoul ventured stone by stone, testing his weight on each before fully committing himself to it, lest this be yet another trap.

He could hear the trickle of water deeper into the cave beyond the water's edge. He moved toward the sound, the ground now slanting slightly upward. The deeper he went, the louder the sound became.

He thought his eyes were playing tricks on him, was that light? Raoul's heart beat wildly as he raced toward where he thought he saw it. At the very back of the tunnel he found rocks, piled one atop the other. When he reached them, he looked up, and there was the source of the water and the light…a storm grate. Raoul propped his torch in a crack between two rocks. He quickly mounted the rocks, noticing that they were firmly placed, as if to support a climber.

Once at the top, he could feel something was on top of the grate, preventing it from letting too much light pass through. Raoul pushed on the grate, it lifted easily, not rusted in place like many others were. Raoul realized that it had not been long since it had last been used. Lifting it high enough to see what lie beyond it, to his surprise, he looked out not at a field or secret retreat, but at the alley behind the very shop he had been in this morning! "I am most certain that it is he who has been fed all these years….he's been feeding the devil…" Raoul muttered to himself.

Raoul lowered the grate, and carefully descended the frighteningly tall tower of rocks. Sitting in the quiet of the cave, in the glow of his torch, he sighed deeply. Though he'd felt dead yesterday, it was as if the process kept repeating itself over and over again…to be a member of the living…yet feeling wholly dead. There was no doubt remaining in his mind that the monster had escaped with his Christine…he was too late…much too late.

Raoul's mental self-bashing continued, his heart writhing in pain, his face contorted to reveal the internal struggle. If only he had not abandoned his search last night, he might have prevented their escape. If those buffoons had not wined and wanted for their whiskey, they might have been there… Raoul ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. He didn't know where to go next. First he grabbed the torch and was about to put it out and climb the rocks to the street above. Then, thinking better of it, he decided he best go back the way he had come, in case the officer had actually sent his men in as he had promised.

Raoul began retracing his steps. Up and down, winding his way through the tunnels. He allowed himself to succumb to the chill he felt, shuddering at the feel of the damp clothes on his skin. His lips trembling, his teeth nearly chattering.

He tried to think of the happy times that he had shared with Christine. Those three precious months without interruption from the Phantom, where he had Christine completely to himself.

He remembered the two of them standing at the window of the jewelers where he had selected Christine's ring. The two embracing as he slipped it on her delicate finger. She had been so happy that day. He smiled to himself remembering how he felt to have finally found a woman to love for a lifetime. She was a pure creature, full of life and innocence. She would be a fine wife for any man, and he had been so happy that she had chosen to be his.

He was thankful he had known her father, it was a precious memory that the two of them shared. He recalled his funeral, and how he realized that their days together by the sea were over, as she would surely go to live with some distant relative. He thought he had lost his little Lottie forever.

Finding her again at the Opera Populaire had been a miracle, an answer to a prayer. He thought years ago that he would never see her again, or know how life had developed for her. Her voice mesmerized him from the first, and how he admired how she had grown into a beautiful young woman. The fact that she was not yet betrothed had surprised him, but he was grateful to have the opportunity to make her his….

Raoul hung his head…now that would never be. He would continue searching but he knew not where or how long he would have to search to find her, but he would continue to his dying breath if that is what fate required of him. Raoul's melancholy overwhelmed him. He could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. Not knowing what else he could do to occupy his mind as he traveled back to the surface, he began to sing. "Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime, let me save you from your solitude….." His voice echoing off the walls as he let out all of his frustration and pain through his voice.

XXXX

Erik jumped, startling Christine. "What is it?" She asked, pulling the covers up under her chin. Erik was on his feet, quickly slipping on his pants and slipping his cloak over his shoulder. He ran to the table and quickly snuffed out what little flame was left on the candle. Christine gasped. "Erik, what is it?" His quick movements frightening her. "Shhh.." Erik whispered sharply.

He returned to Christine's side. She could feel the cold metal of the sheath of his sword about his waist. "Christine, we must be very quiet now. Do not worry. I will bring you some clothing, please put it on quietly, and prepare to depart quickly if we need to."

Erik left her side. She could hear him quietly rifling through her packed bag. She heard the tap of the shoes that he sat on the smooth stone floor. She felt the swish of breeze, she could only assume was from his cape as he turned around to return to her. Without a word, he handed her a dress and shoes. Christine quietly slipped from under the sheets, her skin greeted stiffly by the damp chill air of the cave. She began slipping into the garments, again with nor corset. She easily laced the dress up half-way, thinking it would have to be done later.

She felt the gentle, but quick hands on her back, knowing Erik remembered she could not do that part without assistance. Even in the urgent situation, he remembered such a thing, she smiled to herself. Christine carefully rose from the bed, trying not to make a noise as the hay reorganized itself without the weight of their frames on it. Then she drew in a sharp breath. She heard it too.

Erik reached out for her in the darkness, pulling her to him, draping his cloak around them both. He held her head to his chest, softly humming in her ear. In the dark a distant echo "Say you'll share with me one love one lifetime, Christine that's all I ask of you…."

It was Raoul! She shivered, clinging closer now to Erik's midsection. She had tried to push the memory of him from her mind, and here it was to torture her again. She could not bear what she had done to him…he had done nothing to deserve his dismissal. He had been kind, been true to her….loved her. She belonged to another now, and though she felt a pitiful sorrow for Raoul, there was no turning back….and she didn't want to.

The echo just kept repeating, growing louder and more sorrowful with each repetition. Erik pulled Christine up into his arms, much as a father would a frightened child. "Do not worry Christine…I believe he is alone…"

Christine could do nothing but nod her head in agreement on Erik's chest. Soon, the voice began to quiet, the echo becoming more distant until she could no longer hear it. Erik sat her down on the bed, retreating to finish dressing himself. She could hear Erik fumbling around in one of the boxes, pulling the lid from some sort of canister. Erik made his way to the table, pulling the nub of wax that remained in the holder. Sliding a new candle in, he struck a match lighting the wick. The room returned to its former soft glow.

There sat Christine, in a small pile on the bed. Her face streaked with tears. Erik turned away, swallowing hard, a pained expression on his face. "Did she regret leaving Raoul?" He thought to himself. She had given up so much to be with him…. He reached out putting one hand on the table, the other on the back of the chair, his back facing Christine. His breathing became labored as he fought back the urge to ask her. Lost in his thoughts, he hadn't noticed that Christine rose from the bed and moved to his side.

"Erik?" He jumped slightly, not able to look at her. "Erik we must talk about this." "What is there to talk about…you have regrets…" Erik said in a low voice. Christine moved in front of him now, looking up into his eyes, reaching out to touch his face.

"Yes, only a foolish wife would try to lie to her husband now….I do have regrets…" She said looking down, and then up at him again. Erik tensed, his breath catching in his chest…he couldn't bare to think of what would she would say next.

Christine began "I do have regrets….Raoul was a good man, a gentleman, a kind friend…he showed no malice toward me, and allowed me to accept or reject his proposal…and I had…he deserved to have a willing young wife at his side…and I thought it would be me…I regret hurting him, betraying him."

Erik could barely stand now, he felt that tremendous sense of loss all over again, the blood draining from his face. The tragedy that he had witnessed as a young boy when his mother rejected him. He could not breathe. He would rather die than try to live through this…not after all that had transpired between them….

"Erik, that was not meant to be." Christine ran her hand along his chest, fondly caressing it. "You helped me to discover my true feelings…discover my true passion…allowed me to be me…loving me for only me." Erik glanced up for a fleeting second, seeing the sincerity in her eyes. "My soul longed for you…not for Raoul…my father gave us his blessing, we exchanged vows in the very shadow of his grave." Christine took Erik's face into her hands, looking resolutely into his eyes said, "YOU are my husband, and in that I have no regret. Erik….I love you."

Christine reached out and took Erik's hand into hers, kissing it, and then kissing the ring on her finger. She leaned into him, gently kissing first his left cheek, and then his right before kissing him tenderly on his trembling lips.

Erik felt the muscles in his back relax, the clench in his jaw releasing. No one else in his life made him feel that vulnerable….and yet….that loved. It was a painful pleasure, capable of heaving his emotions about as a small boat at the mercy of the ocean. She truly loved him. He would put all doubt behind them, learn to accept her love, without reservation or hesitation. For the first time in his life, he felt loved. Loved unconditionally as a whole person. He held her in his arms, HIS wife, his beautiful, precious Christine. Their separate pasts lay behind them, their future lay before them, and the present was in their hands, they were going to make the most of it.


	24. The Love of a Father

Chapter 24 The love of a "father" 

"Mother….mother…" Meg was lightly shaking her mother's shoulder. She reached down, taking the cup and plate from her mother's lap. "Mum…have you been sitting there all night?" Madame Giry shook her head, raising herself out of her groggy sleep. "Is everything alright?" She said, pulling the blanket back up over her shoulders. "Mum, you have sat up all night staring out that window. You must come and lie down on the bed, stretch yourself out, it's not good to be bent all up that way" Meg said, leading her mother to the bed.

Madame Giry reached out and hugged her daughter, before retreating under the covers, allowing Meg to pull them up under her chin. "Meg dear, thank you." Meg sat on the edge of the bed next to her. "Did you see anything…I mean…out the window last night, did you see anyone?" Meg asked with a hopeful hesitation in her voice.

Madame Giry closed her eyes and shook her head. "No, no one…I had so hoped that I would see some evidence, some hope that…" Madame Giry brought her hand up to her mouth, stifling a sob. Meg reached down and took her mother's other hand. "She loves him doesn't she mother…loves the Phantom?" Meg looked down, a bit embarrassed by her question.

Madame Giry swallowed hard, "I believe she does, she would never have chosen to go with him, she could have revealed his true identity, yet she chose not too. One can only assume…the way she looked at him Meg, was how I looked at your father…once one has known true love, you can see it in the eyes of another."

Meg turned her head, "you miss him…my father?" Madame Giry, surprised expression on her face, "yes my dear, I miss him every day, and every night I think of him, the kind gentle man. You have his eyes you know." Madame Giry reached up to caress Meg's cheek. "Not a day goes by that I don't wish him here, but then, he left you here with me, and I can see him in your eyes." Meg smiled, an almost childish smile at her mother.

"Where will they go…I mean if they survived…where will they ever be able to hide?" Meg asked, genuine concern on her face. "Meg, I don't know much about Erik's past, other than he was taken in by a band of gypsies and put on display. Oh how he hated them for their cruelty. I don't know where he came from, or where he would return, if he could. But I do know that he is resourceful, you needn't worry about his ability to take care of her."

Meg looked down, sorrow clouding her eyes. "Will I ever see Christine again?" A tear drew in the corner of Meg's eye. "I do not know now. But I do know that Erik doesn't give up on people he cares about. There are very few of those." Madame Giry seemed lost in thought now as she continued. "Meg, when you were but a little girl, and your father had just died, Erik was concerned for you, and for me. Some mornings I would find small packages or envelopes in my room, tied carefully with a black ribbon. Inside, there would be items that he had crafted with wood, or small poems with pressed flowers. Sometimes he would put currency in them, if he felt that there was something that you or I were in need of. In some ways, he tried to be a father, a helper. I knew then that in spite of all his faults, he had a good heart, and the capacity to love." She smiled, wiping a tear from her eye and turned to face Meg. "When I tried to thank him with notes, he would simply dismiss it, as though he had not been the one to do it. He cared for us Meg, just as he does Christine."

Meg looked at her mother, confusion running through her mind. "They say he was a monster, that he took, he destroyed, he killed….they never gave him a chance to live, to know what it was like to be part of anything real." Meg looked sad now, as she glanced back toward her mother and then down to the floor.

"Meg, I must ask you not to share this knowledge with anyone. It is a precious memory, something that I guard with my heart. It will come to no good for you, or for me. They will think we've gone mad." Meg nodded in understanding.

"Mother, you rest now. If you don't' mind, I think I'll find some breakfast." "You go ahead my dear, I will rest for a little while. Madame Giry stretched a bit and said "you are right…the bed is much more comfortable than that hard wood chair." Meg smiled at her mom as she passed through the door and down the stairs.

XXXX

"Good morning miss, did you have a good night's rest?" The innkeeper greeted Meg, pouring her a cup of steaming coffee, pointing her to a chair at the table. "Yes, thank you. It was so very kind of you to take us in last night." The innkeeper smiled at her, turning back to what she was cooking on the stove.

"It's a right chilly morning out there again this morning, the streets still smell of the stench of all that burnt wood." Meg looked out the window, seeing just faint traces of smoke coming out of the windows of the only real home she had ever known.

"My name's Sara." The woman smiled at Meg, setting a large plate of fried potatoes, eggs, and toast in front of her. "Thank you Sara…it is alright that I call you by your first name?" Meg stammered. "Yes, I prefer it." The woman smiled back at Meg. "Has your mother rested? I heard her come down the stairs a few hours ago, I figured she hadn't yet slept."

"No, I'm afraid she couldn't bring herself to bed. She sat up just staring out the window." Meg put her napkin on her lap, lowered her head. Looking back up at the woman. She gratefully slid her fork into the eggs taking her first bite. It had been breakfast yesterday since she'd eaten last, and her stomach had long since stopped growling. The velvety feel of the eggs on her tongue was wonderful. Meg blew slightly on her coffee before taking her first sip. It was strong and hot, filling her with a warm feeling all over. Sara sat watching Meg eat her breakfast in silence.

"Sara, it's curious that there aren't many others at your inn this morning, what with the fire and all" Meg said looking up at Sara.

Sara busied herself in the kitchen, replying, "It's an odd thing really. Nearly a week ago, I received this letter, asking to reserve the inn for a week, starting last night. It was specific that they wanted all of the rooms for privacy reasons. No name or anything, just the letter and payment in full. The note said that the guests may or may not be arriving, but I was to hold the rooms open even if they wouldn't be occupied."

Meg stopped eating. "What?" "The letter said that the guests would be obvious and I should be looking out the window watching for them, and invite them in because they might not be aware they were to be my guests."

Meg looked pale now, she put down her fork. "That's why I invited you in last night. I'd sat watching out the window waiting for these guests to arrive, but then I saw you and your mother standing there, and I realized, that you must've been them…..so I invited you in. Turns out I must've been right, since no one else ever arrived."

Meg could barely breathe. "Where did this letter come from?" Meg asked. "I don't know really, it just appeared here one day last week. I opened my door for the morning and it was tucked inside so it fell right at my feet." The woman said, looking down at her shoes.

"Do you still have it?" Meg asked, with great curiousness. "Yes, maam, I do." The woman rose and went over to a drawer in her cupboard, pulling a small white envelope from it. She walked over to Meg and handed it to her. Meg flipped it back and forth in her hands. There was no writing or markings of any kind on it, save the bent corner where it had been lodged in the door.

"Oh, I almost forgot." The woman made her way back to the drawer, pulling a small object from it. She walked back to the table and laid it down. "This was tied around it. Pretty fancy for just a letter." Meg looked down, there on the table next to the envelope, was a small black silk ribbon. "Mother had been right….he does care." Meg said under her breath.

"What was that?" Sara asked. "Nothing, I agree, it is odd indeed. May I have this envelope and ribbon?" Meg asked, starting to pull her chair from under her. Sara stood up, "why yes, not much good to me, may I ask why?" "Meg said…no reason, I just hope to someday discover who might have been so generous, and thank him personally, that is all." Meg was standing now.

"Miss, you've hardly eaten any of your breakfast." Sara said as Meg moved toward the stairs. "Oh, do you mind terribly if I take it upstairs with me? I'd like to offer some to my mother if she is awake." "No, that's no trouble, but your mum can certainly come down for a hot breakfast herself if she likes."

Meg took her plate and cup, thanking Sara, walked back to the stairs. Envelope and ribbon under her arm. "This is most delicious, I'm sure she will like it." Meg smiled and disappeared up the stairs. Sara walked back to the counter, taking her dishes to the sink. "Odd things happen in this city every day, but this is by far the oddest." She thought to herself.

"Mother?" Meg nudged her mother, but she was sound asleep. Walking over to the chair by the window, she sat her plate and cup on the nightstand. She looked down at the envelope and ribbon. Putting the envelope down she started running the satin ribbon through her fingers.

"How had he known what would come to pass?" Meg smiled a little, even in the wake of this disaster, not knowing any of the details, or what would happen next. He had cared for her mother…and for her. It made the possible loss even greater to bear. She closed her eyes and said a little prayer.. "Lord, keep them safe…wherever they might be." She opened her eyes again, looking over at her sleeping mother. She turned her attention back to her breakfast, thankful from the next warm bite, to have one.


	25. Hauntings of a future lost

Author's notes:

**Ankh**: Oh how I love thee….thank you for the review! I hope you continue on this journey with me!

**Sapphire Tearz**: Thank you for your kind words. I hope you enjoy the next ones….some interesting things are about to happen!

**AJNemo**: Thank you for hunting this story down each night…I appreciate your following it! I just don't have it in my heart to be cruel to him. Raoul might be a rich man, with seemingly everything, but the one thing he lacks is something all the money in the world cannot buy…true love…everyone is on an equal playing field there…all can be hurt…all can be made whole…all can be surprised when it sneaks up on them……tee hee, tee hee!

**Bexy:** Thank you for reviewing the chapters. I hope you enjoy the next ones…we are building towards something….I can just feel it!

**Glitter Queen of the Ice Show:** Yes, I'm just a sap, I feel for Raoul. What is pleasure without pain, love without suffering? Somewhere inside all of us is a little bit of Raoul don't you think? He is a man of character…and men of character never REALLY lose…

Chapter 25 Hauntings of a future lost, sweet memories of the past

Raoul found himself once again in the Phantom's lair. He didn't care what time it was, or how much his muscles ached. He felt as if he was in a world that had no time….a world that gave no end to his pain.

He walked over to the piano plunking on a few of the ivory keys. It unsettled him how the hollow room embraced the notes, resonating off the walls. It felt like they were inside of him, not around him. In the deep quiet of the room the music seemed to blend with the air, traveling in and out of his lungs with the oxygen, becoming part of the very fibers of his being. An eerie chill ran up his spine.

Raoul had never learned to play the piano or any other instrument for that matter, finding solace in listening rather than actively participating. He regretted it now, what great pleasure it seemed to give the performer he thought. Performing had been viewed by his father, and "society" as rather undignified for a family of their stature, for surely they could command an army of musicians to play….they would be at their beck and call. He shook his head, abandoning the keys.

Alone, he was free to explore the rooms at will, poking and prodding, wondering what it was like for a creature that lived in such darkness. He wandered over to the room where he assumed the Phantom slept. The coffin, the table, and nothing more. "What a miserable existence, to go to sleep each night hoping not to wake." Raoul muttered to himself.

He went next to the room where he had last seen Christine. Walking in, he noticed how warm it seemed in comparison to the rest of the cavern. Fabric draped across the front, tapestries on the walls, full-length mirrors hung, a dressing screen, dresser, a small chair and vanity. It was appointed as well as any room for a fine woman should be. "How did he manage all of this?" Raoul thought to himself. "He must have been planning this for months…years…" Raoul choked back a sob. "He has wanted her for years…" Raoul broke down.

Kneeling next to the bed he wept bitterly. Oh how he wished things had been different. That he had never made Christine perform that night… No matter what, this thing…this man….would never have stopped hunting her…he would have wanted her to the very end. Christine would never have been beyond the grasp of him…if not his very hands…then his mind. Raoul felt a sickness in the pit of his stomach.

Raoul rose to his feet, wiping his face. He walked now to the dresser, where a single candlestick still sat. He reached down with his torch, lighting the wick. As the room filled with the soft light, Raoul ventured over behind the dressing screen, picking up the dress that he had looked at before. It was damp and cold. Carrying it back to the bed, he laid it out over the covers. He examined each detail, the beading, the lace, the brocade. His hands ran up and down the neckline, then down to the hem. It was as intricate and delicately beautiful as Christine herself.

"How could she choose to live a life like this…how could she have chosen HIM! HE could offer her nothing but darkness…a world so remote that even ground dwelling animals didn't venture in," he muttered in a controlled rage.

Raoul never having been denied in his life, knew not how to deal with this loss. He had never been rejected…the opposite parallel to the one who now possessed his Christine…he had never been accepted.

Raoul lay down on the bed, the soft coverings giving way beneath his somnolent body. He lay next to Christine's dress, wanting only to dream that she was still there with him. He closed his eyes trying to imagine it…and though he fought it, soon drifted off into a fitful slumber.

XXXX

Meg sat looking out the window a long while taking note of the lack of movement around the Opera House. Soon it was mid-morning; she heard her mother stir. "What time is it?" Madame Giry asked through a strained yawn. "How long have I been sleeping." Meg glanced over to the bed, "not long mother, perhaps a couple of hours….you needed your rest, in fact you should still be sleeping now!"

Meg rose, walking over to her mother's side, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I guess there is no use in rising early…there are no classes to teach, no ballerinas to direct." Madame Giry rested her head again in the pillow resignedly, looking up at the ceiling. 

"Mum, there is something that I must show you." Meg walked over to the table and brought back the envelope and ribbon. "Where did you get this?" Madame Giry quickly pulling herself to a sitting position, a horrified look on her face.

"Sara gave it to me." Meg replied. "Sara?" Madame Giry looked puzzled. "Our innkeeper, her name is Sara." Her mother looked even more confused. "Was this here last night….did it arrive this morning…there is nothing inside?" Madame Giry looked at Meg anxiously. "No mother, it arrived a week ago." "What?" Madame Giry was more confused than before.

"Mother, Sara told me that these arrangements were made by a stranger a week ago. They arrived in a letter, in that envelope, with payment-in-full requesting that the inn have no other guests, and that it remain that way for a week." Madame Giry looked at Meg, a realization coming over her. "Mum, the letter told Sara that the guests in need of lodging would be obvious, and that she might need to invite them in. So when she saw us standing in the street last night, she thought that it might be us."

Meg looked at her mother, a small smile spreading over her face. "Could it be…he must have somehow known…but how?" Madame Giry was staring out the window now. "The letter said that the guests may or may not arrive, but that the rooms were to be kept ready for them either way. I think he might have known…but hoped it wouldn't come to this…"

Meg reached out and touched her mother's shoulder. "Mother….he did care for us." Madame Giry smiled at her daughter, reaching out and touching her fair cheek. "He always has…I told you he never abandons what he cares about." Madame Giry rested her back against the headboard, feeling a bit light headed.

Meg looked down, taking in a deep breath before asking "Mother, why didn't he ever come to us….to be a part of our family?" Madame Giry turned to Meg, tears welling up from deep inside her. "Meg dear, this world has been far too cruel to him…I tried to coax him to come up and share dinner with me in my room, so he would at least have some company. Once in a great while he would oblige but he never tarried long, not wanting to put me in any danger. When he would stay he would talk of the great composers, architecture, politics. He was always curious about current events, and changes in the casting. It was always surprising to me how much he knew." Madame Giry smiled.

"He borrowed books; he had a ravenous appetite for literature, sometimes reading an entire book in a single day." Madame Giry looked far away now "sometimes he would talk about his life, but only in small amounts before pain would overtake him and he would grow quiet again." Madame Giry looked cheerless. "I always invited him to join us for a holiday, to come to our house…but he never wanted anything to cast a shadow of impropriety on our family, lest anyone see a gentleman with us. In the absence of a husband, he feared for gossip on our account."

Madame Giry looked at Meg, "he also didn't want to frighten you. He knew of your tenderness, and how even small stories gave you nightmares…he didn't want to burden you with his image…." Meg looked down, a small trickle of tears falling from her chin. "Mother…do you love him?"

Madame Giry wiped a tear from her face, a surprised look in her eyes. "Yes Meg, I do love him, the way one love's a dear friend. He helped me through difficult times….when your father proposed…when I almost lost you during my pregnancy…when your father died….he was a faithful friend Meg. He feels very much to me like the brother that I never had." Madame Giry smiled mournfully, looking up at Meg. "Now you may understand why I helped him…..protected him."

Meg went to her mother, holding her lightly around the shoulders. "Mum, it will be alright…I just know it my heart it will be." Meg smiled at her mother. "Come, let's go down for lunch…I can smell that Sara's been busy again…she knew you'd be hungry."

Meg helped her mother up from bed and then went down to fetch her a basin of water. Madame Giry stared out the window, full of wonder. What the days coming would bring, she didn't know, but she knew that at least for the week, she and Meg would be taken care of. "Thank you Erik" drifting in a whisper off her lips.


	26. Resignation and sweet peaches

Chapter 26 Resignation and sweet peaches 

Erik looked down at Christine, his heart bursting with joy. "My dear, precious wife…forgive me for not believing you, for doubting your heart." Erik turned away, walking several steps from her.

"I've never known love without conditions…perhaps never have I known love at all…compassion…a little, but only inside the confines of this building. I've trusted only a very few in this world…but now I will learn to trust you…believe in you." He turned to face Christine.

She was smiling at him. It was odd to her how it had only been a day that he'd not worn his mask, and yet she no longer saw the disfigurement when she looked at him. He was handsome to her. His tall frame, well defined features, and piercing eyes. Even with his clothes in a bit of disarray, his hair not smoothed and perfect, he was still the most handsome man she had ever known.

"What is it?" Erik became increasingly uncomfortable for her staring at him, sly smile on her face.

"It is just that I think of you differently now…without shame…I can think of you differently now." Christine blushed a little, looking down from his gaze. Erik smiled too, knowing what she meant.

"Christine, these are the intimate moments I've not known in my life…I've read about them in the great love stories, but never dreamt it would be part of my life. Forgive me if I seem a bit…..inexperienced."

Christine smiled moving toward him. "Erik, it occurs to me we may very well experience many things together for the first time, as I am inexperienced myself. At least we won't be able to take notice of any mistakes, as we have nothing to compare it to!"

Erik chuckled, the first laugh he'd had in ages. It had not been since he saw Carlotta fall from a trip on her dress during one of the rehearsals nearly a year ago. Christine smiled at him, and he at her.

Erik brought his hands to his face, "hmmmm, what should we do now. We could eat biscuits and strawberries, although I'm afraid that won't quite do." Christine looked back at him, being able to offer no suggestion.

"Is it safe for us to leave…I thought we needed to wait for darkness, for nightfall." Christine said. "Are you not hungry?" Erik asked. Christine looked down. "Yes, I must admit, I am a bit hungry now…but biscuits and strawberries wouldn't be awful until night falls." She smiled timidly at Erik.

Catching the glint in her eye, he moved over to her. "My dear, as sweet as love is, one cannot live on love alone." Christine reached up and tugging Erik's neck toward hers, lips nearly touching. "My husband, I know what you say is true, but right now my heart is telling me otherwise." She kissed Erik tenderly.

Erik's mind whirled as he swept her up into his arms. She wanted him, he was her husband, how could one refuse such a request? He turned to lay her softly on the bed, coming to rest next to her. Her big brown eyes shining in the candlelight. He would have been content to stay there forever. They met in an impassioned embrace. Light, time, and everything else, passing into a distant fog. The darkness of the room, the flicker of the candle all melding into a sweet orchestration of a memory in the making.

XXXX

Raoul woke from his slumber, hearing footsteps and voices. Surely the officer's men had come now to assist. He gathered himself together, letting go of the dress that he had been clinging to. He was on his feet, straightening out his clothes.

"Monsieur De Chagny, at your service sir." The first man to arrive greeted Raoul. "Thank you for coming." The twelve-man assembly, looking rather like a small outfitted army.

"I'm afraid to tell you that I've searched the caves myself extensively, and have found the escape route. Sometime during the night, I am certain, he took Miss Daae out that way, unnoticed."

The men looked a bit disheartened. They had prepared for a long day, and a good fight. "Sir?" one of the men said. "What would you have us to do, as we are at your service for the entire day, under instruction from our commanding officer."

Raoul shook his head. "I'm not entirely certain. Perhaps we could search the streets, inquiring if any has seen anything unusual. If any horsemen have taken…" Raoul thought better of that. With the Opera Populaire burning, many would have left the city by carriage. "Let us search the streets, and the area around the Opera House. We will meet back at your officer's station mid-afternoon in order to determine what our next move will be."

"Good sir, would you like us to take any of this with us?" The man motioned around at the items that lay scattered about the cavern. "No, you needn't spend your time with this junk…it can rot down here for all that I care." Raoul snapped, distain obvious in his tone. "Very well sir. Men, let's head back to the boat," the man yelped an order. The men in uniform, single-file made their way back to the boat.

"Boat?" Raoul questioned. "Yes sir, we carried it with us here sir as the last company that came this way talked of being soaked to the bone trying to pass through the waters. There is room for one more, if you'd like to join us." The man motioned toward the boat. Raoul looked around one last time at the cave. He wouldn't even bother to put out any of the torches he had lit…with any luck they would start a fire and destroy all those awful memories, turning to ash the memories of a monster.

Raoul jumped into the boat, taking a seat at the stern. The men began to row their oars, the craft being propelled toward the gate. Raoul thought bitterly, "I shall never again cast a shadow here…"

The boat careened around the entrance to the lair, far down into the dark corridors. The light of their torches disappeared from sight.

XXXXX

The curtain behind the mirror moved. "At last they are gone." Erik emerged. He looked around at the shambles that had been made of his home. It broke his heart to see the small busts now laying in splinters on the floor. The curtains to the rooms shredded, the books and sheets of music scattered about without regard. He was grateful that they hadn't damaged his piano. He walked over to a large pile of rocks that lay haphazardly in the corner. Rolling away the first, the second, and yet a third large stone, he uncovered a mid-sized box. Inside he had nearly a year's worth of salary, over 200,000 francs. He wasn't certain how far they would have to travel, but he knew this would be a necessity. Much more was hidden, and perhaps he would one day return for it, but for now, this is all that they required.

Erik got up, putting everything back into place. He walked over to a small chain that was latched to the shore of lake. Pulling it up, he took the small cage from its end. Unhooking it he retrieved several jars, one of meat, one of milk, and the other of peaches. Having no proper icebox, he had learned that the chill of the depths of the waters there were perfect for storage. He put the jars in the bag he had brought with him. He moved quickly over to the large vase of roses that were sitting in Christine's room, unbelievably untouched. Carefully lifting them from the vase, he lashed them securely with a large black ribbon. Tucking them under his arm, lifting his bag, he moved back into the corridor behind the curtain. He wasn't certain, but he hoped that Christine would have slept during his absence, having had an exhausting day, and night.

XXX

Christine woke, a bit chilly, pulling the cover over her bare shoulder. "Erik?" He had become so good at disappearing, she wondered if he were part magician. "Hmmp." Christine sighed. She stretched out fully under the blankets, and then curled up into a ball. Her stomach was growling now. She almost wished she hadn't agreed to wait until nightfall for dinner…well….almost.

She smiled to herself. The world seemed so distant. Reality was for her the music of the night. She rather enjoyed not knowing what time it was, or where exactly she was, there was an air of mystery around it that delighted her. Christine got up, wrapping the silk sheet around her and walked over to a piece of paper lying on the table. Reading it "My dear Christine. I've gone to retrieve a few things we will need in the coming days. Do not worry, you are quite safe. I will be gone a short while. Love Erik." Her very first love note; she smiled in sweet satisfaction…a love note from her HUSBAND.

She wrapped the sheet tightly around her and went about tidying up the bed. She went to her bags and selected a dress and the undergarments she would need. Taking a small cloth from her bag, she went over to where Erik had retrieved water the day before. Reaching into it to soak the cloth she took notice of how very cold it was, it made her shiver. Holding the cloth between both of her hands to warm it before touching her skin.

She washed her face and then her neck and shoulders. Even though it was frigid, the sensation of clean skin was a welcome one. She sat awkwardly in the chair, washing each of her feet. Finished with that, she ran a brush through her hair, pulling it back into a ribbon. She went about dressing; this time with a corset. She nearly reached the top, but could not. She decided to pull her dress on along with her stockings and shoes. She would ask for help finishing when he returned. She smoothed the beautiful sapphire satin over her waist. She only wished she had a mirror to admire it. Reaching in now she grabbed again the lip stain. She wanted to look a proper lady when he returned.

"Where on earth would he go during the day…it was day still wasn't it?" She sat down in the chair, putting the lids back on the biscuits and the strawberries. She poured out the water in the pitcher, and went to refill it. Then she heard it. A crunching of boots on gravel. Someone was outside the room!

She slipped over to the candle, extinguishing it as she had been instructed. She heard the moving of the stones, and at last the curtain moved. She didn't know whether to scream, or pretend to faint. There was nowhere to go if someone had found her. She stood motionless.

Then she heard the moving of the stone, the groan of a breath, and the movement of the curtain. It was Erik, she breathed a sigh of relief. "We must really come up with some sort of signal so that I know it is you. Not that I could have done anything if you hadn't been!" Christine scolded.

Erik smirked at her chastising and replied, "my dear, I had rather hoped you'd still be sleeping, but I noticed that you put the candle out as you've been instructed. You are an obedient pupil!" "I'm hardly your pupil anymore." Christine said as she felt her way back to the table. "Where have you been?"

"I had to retrieve a few things, as I said in my note. In my haste the last time, I'd not taken them with me." Erik reaching the table took a match and lit the candle again. Christine's eyes grew wide as she saw the jars that Erik was putting on the table.

"Where on earth.." Christine said. "A little something that I had in my home." Erik smiled at her sitting the jar of peaches on the table. "You traveled all the way back there Erik…was it safe for you?" Christine said with concern in her voice. "Yes, quite. The men had damaged some of the thing there, but had not found the things that I went for. He smiled, pulling the roses from behind his back, handing them to Christine. He leaned down placing a tender kiss on her neck. She smiled coyly, staring down at the flowers. "Thank you."

"Now sit my dear, we shall have something to eat." Erik opened the jar of peaches, the sweet fragrance greeting Christine's nose; her mouth began to water. The jar of milk, how old it was mattered little to her, but it looked to be just fine. The meat she was unsure of. Erik noticed her look at it strangely. "It's pickled. A bit salty, but good with the biscuits...rather an acquired taste I'm afraid."

Christine just smiled at him. "Do not worry, tonight you'll have a hot supper, and a warm bath." Erik smiled at Christine. She pulled out the plates and looked around for utensils. "Over there in the first crate, you will find what you are looking for." Christine got up and went to the crate, finding forks and spoons inside. She brought them back to the table.

Erik busied himself making "sandwiches" of the meat and biscuits. He saw Christine looking at the jar of peaches, and it tickled him. She looked like a child peering through the window of a candy store. "Perhaps we should ask for our blessings first. The two bowed their heads and said a short prayer together…their first as husband and wife.

Erik took a fork and stabbed it deeply into a peach slice. Lifting it out of the juice he brushed the edges, removing the traces of the syrupy liquid. Reaching across the table putting the fruit to within several inches of Christine's lips. "Eat…a sweet for my sweet." Christine smiled, closed her eyes and carefully bit one corner of the fruit on the fork. Its sweet juices pricking all of her taste buds to life. It was sweet, juicy, and simply wonderful.

Christine's reaction brought pleasure to Erik as he watched her enjoy the sweetness of the fruit. He cherished her in a way he could only have imagined. Such simple pleasures had been denied him until now. He held out the fork, beckoning Christine to take the other bite. She did with a grateful smile, and a muffled thank you.

Christine reached out, doing the same for Erik, plucked a peach with her fingers from the jar. She reached across the table slipping the fruit easily between Erik's waiting lips. She touched them with her syrupy fingers, running her index finger along the edge of Erik's lower lip. He shivered. How long would this last? How long would her touch seem foreign? He would grow accustomed to it, but for now, he reveled in the fact that she wanted to touch him.

Christine pulled her hand back to her now, daintily licking the ends of her fingers. She knew it was most improper, but felt compelled none-the-less. Something seemed so natural about it all; it came without effort. Erik gazed at her across the table a small smirk rising at the edge of his face. "Christine…you have no idea how you move me." She blushed a bit and smiled. "Of course I do…my husband…of course I do…it is the same way you move me." She glanced down and then up into Erik's flaming eyes. "Let us finish our dinner first, then I have something to ask of you." Christine said sweetly.

"Of course." Erik said trying to regain his composure. "Now you need to try a bite of this. It will be salty at first, but the peaches will help with that." Christine looked at the sandwich that Erik was holding out in front of her. She wasn't sure, it smelled awful, but she would try it if it pleased him. She took a nibble, pretending to chew. Erik looked at her. "I said a bite, you are not a squirrel." Christine smiled at him, she reached out, taking a full bite.

It was odd, a bit crunchy at first, then decidedly salty. "Now, quickly take a peach." Erik held out a peach on a fork. Christine bit off one end. To her surprise, the peach did add an odd flavor pairing with the meat and biscuit. She began to chew it, and found it was actually quite pleasant. "Mmmm." She responded.

"It isn't too bad once you become accustomed to it." Erik said, pouring milk from the jar into both of their cups. Christine reached down for the milk, lifting it to her lips, taking in a full drink. It felt good to have something in her stomach. Erik finished the sandwich that he had given Christine a bite of and went about making each of them another. "We will let those sit a moment, the juices from the meat will soften the biscuits a bit, making it easier to consume."

"Where do you suppose they are now…Meg and Madame Giry?" Christine ventured. Erik looked down, having been excised unwillingly from the frothy bubble of unreality they had been floating in. "I am not certain, but I feel comfort somehow knowing that they are being cared for. Madame Giry is much beloved in this city. I am certain that someone would have taken them in." Erik said, not looking up at Christine.

"You don't think they would have perished in the fire do you Erik? Christine said. "No, I am quite certain that they were able to escape." Erik replied. "How can you be so sure?" Christine inquired. Erik looked a bit agitated, exhaling coarsely. "Christine, I know of the mother's love that Madame Giry had for her daughter…she would never have allowed Meg to come to any harm." Erik replied.

Christine sensing this was not a opportune time to talk of this, abruptly changed the subject. "The sandwiches are quite good with the peaches, as you said." Christine looking down at the ones Erik had assembled. Erik placed one on her plate and one on his own. Each took it in their hands, taking a bite, then diving into the jar of peaches, extracting a slice of fruit, reaching across the table and feeding it to one another. They sat simply looking at each other, smiling as they finished their dinner.

The last of the milk jar poured in their cups, the jar of peaches now half-empty, and at long last the pair was full. Christine reached up, wiping the crumbs from her the corners of her lips. She noticed Erik did the same.

"Now then, you had something to ask me," Erik said, leaning back a bit in his chair, looking across at Christine. He could only imagine what she might ask for. He had funds to supply nearly any dream she might have, and he was pleased that he might procure anything for her that her heart desired.

"Its nothing much really, but I need your assistance." With that Erik knew exactly what she wanted. He smiled, rising from the chair moving around to Christine's back.

He reached down to her dress, seeing that it was not fully laced. She felt his caress on her back. His strong hands moving over her shoulders, gently massaging her neck. They traveled up and down her neck and shoulders, melting her into complete relaxation. Erik bent down soothingly kissing her neck just under her jaw.

Christine turned to meet Erik's lips. Erik found himself doing the opposite of what he had intended, unlacing instead of lacing. Christine fumbled with the tie beneath Erik's jaw, and then with the shirt on his shoulders. The two found themselves as they had several times before, in a warm embrace, surrendering to one another as husband and wife. A love so strong, a bond so secure, a bright light piercing the darkness.


	27. Leisurely lunch a plan begins

Author's note: 

Thank you for the nice reviews. From this point of the story forward, I am going to put the response at the end of the last chapter I post each day. I think it will be much less distracting! Thank you again for following along!

Chapter 27 Leisurely lunch, a plan begins 

Madame Giry and Meg were greeted by the sweet smell of smoky ham, and baking bread. Madame Giry brought the plate and cup from her midnight snack, and Meg hers from breakfast. "Good afternoon, mum, good afternoon miss…I hope that you are both hungry. I've ham, beans, winter fruits, and some fresh bread for you." Sara smiled at them, pointing towards the table. "Sit, I'll bring you a cup of hot coffee."

Madame Giry and Meg sat down. The pair noticed only two plates on the table. Meg looked up at her mother, Madame Giry nodded. "Sara" Meg began, "since we are the only two here, would you be kind enough to join us for lunch?" Sara turned around "I'm not usually invited to sit with the guests, but if you request, alright."

Sara busied herself finding another place setting, and cup with saucer. She carried it over to the rectangular table, placing it on the far end. "That's right nice of you to offer." Sara smiled at Madame Giry and made her way back to the kitchen counter. Meg and Madame Giry roamed the small dining room with their eyes, taking in the colors, pictures, and eclectic choice of décor.

Sara returned with a large loaf of steaming bread, placing it between them on the table with a large serrated knife. "May I?" Madame Giry asked Sara. "Be my guest…haa…haaa." Sara laughed at the irony.

Madame Giry began slicing the warm bread. Its scent was heavenly. Sara next brought a pitcher of milk, several jars of fruits, a plate of cheese, and a large platter of ham, and a dish of beans. She walked back to the stove retrieving the kettle of hot coffee, returning filling each cup. She put the kettle back on the stove, and made one final trip to the table with a plate of butter, and a dish of strawberry preserves.

The trio sat at the table, looking at one another. "We should eat before it cools." Sara said. Meg and Madame Giry lowered their heads, Sara, following their lead, doing the same. Madame Giry began "dear Heavenly Father, thank you for these wonderful gifts, may they be a blessing to us. Thank you for our new friend Sara, and may you bless her for sharing her home with us. We pray for all those who are affected by the fire…keep them safe, and may your will be done. Amen."

Meg picked up the ham, selecting a slice, then began passing the dishes one by one until all had taken what they wished. The bread was wonderful smothered in butter and preserves, such a treat. General conversation started easily, talking about how cold the winter had been, how the holidays had been dreadfully dreary weather, and about the new fashions that they'd seen in ladies textiles.

Soon, the general chatter out of the way, the group was silent. "Sara, thank you for taking us into your home, it was most generous of you." Madame Giry said. Sara interrupted "Did Meg not tell you of what we spoke of this morning?" "Why yes, yes she did. It was still gracious of you to extend your welcome to us without knowing for certain that we were your intended guests." Sara looked at Madame Giry, nodding her head in acknowledgement of the compliment.

"I don't know what our circumstances will be in the next week, but we will be making some arrangements, so you will not be unduly burdened." Sara smiled at Madame Giry. "I rather enjoy having friendly company. My children have long since grown and moved away, and my husband has been dead a number of years now. I don't get a lot of company that want to visit with their innkeeper. Do not worry about the end of the week. If something is not resolved, you are welcome to stay here until you find something."

Madame Giry smiled back at Sara. "This is indeed a lovely meal." Meg said. They all sat sipping their coffee, dipping into the jars of fruit, and enjoying their long, uninterrupted dinner. It had been a long while since any of them had felt that relaxed, or enjoyed their leisurely dinner as much.

XXXX

Raoul and the rest of the men made their way back up the stairs. Coming in through the doorway by the mirror still gave Raoul a chill. He would never know how long or often the Phantom had watched Christine through that mirror. His mind wandered to the lengthy interrogation that beast would receive if ever he was found. Raoul would want every detail, every instance….though that would do little to assuage his anger, or change the monster's demise. One after the other, they filed through the narrow door, until all at last were back at first floor of the Opera House.

Raoul led them all to the stage area where they sat down, unloading their packs, reaching in for some refreshment. Raoul stood in the center of the men. "I want to thank each of you for coming this morning. I recognize some of you from the group that traveled with me last evening." Raoul paused making a point to look each of the men in the eyes. "It is with great sadness that we sit now in the center of this Opera House, which has been the pride of Paris." The men began looking around at the burned seat cushions, the black char coatings on the gargoyles and sculptures. Fragments of the chandelier lay all around on the stage and in the theater. While nearly everything in view was covered with a thick black soot, many things appeared to be whole, and otherwise unharmed.

There would be months, and months of work to be done, cleaning and refurbishing, before music would again grace the hall. For many of the men sitting on the stage that day, it was their first time inside the walls of the Opera House. Only those in high society, or of noted musical or theatrical experience ever made it beyond the grand filigreed front doors. Sadly, the only sounds now were not musical, but rather the sounds of dripping water, and softly hissing sounds of fire breathing its last.

Raoul said "men, this morning we will make a list for each of you. We will section off the city, assigning each one a parcel to search. We will catalog any strange activity, and take notes from any witnesses. We shall search any open barns or abandoned dwellings. Interview innkeepers, and horsemen with carriages. We shall have this work done before nightfall tomorrow." Raoul looked around at the men, none complained or questioned. "I'll see to the details with your officer."

Raoul left the stage, went back outside, and to the stables where his horse was being held for him.

Raoul was in the deserted streets of Paris. He thought it oddly quiet for a Sunday afternoon. Making his way down to the same door he had been knocking at this very morning. The officer greeted him, this time in a much more amiable tone. "Monsieur De Chagny, do come in." Raoul entered without a smile or comment. There was business to tend to, and he intended to do it.


	28. Gentle touch

Chapter 28 Gentle touch 

Erik and Christine were barely awake. Erik was softly humming a tune in Christine's ear as he let his fingers wander through her soft brown hair. Christine was curled up at his side, one arm slung over his waist, her head lying on the center of his chest. Aside from the soft tune Erik was humming, no sounds disturbed them, no light other than the flicker of the candle in the room. It was a quiet, gentle peace that had settled over the two of them. A still contentment that could only be found in each other's arms.

"Christine?" She turned her head and propped herself on one arm, chin now in her hand. "Yes?" "What was your mother's name?" Christine smiled at Erik, pulling herself so she could nestle her head at the side of his neck. "My mother….her name was Katherine." Christine began delicately running her fingers across the expanse of Erik's chest. "Why do you ask?" Christine's interest now peeked. "I was thinking…you started me thinking…that would be a wonderful name for a girl." Christine tightened the grip of her arm around Erik's waist. "I'm so glad to hear that you are now sharing my dream." She said with excitement in her voice.

"I know in my heart that it will happen someday Erik. I am anxious for you to have a daughter to love, and a son to teach. Alas, we will have to be patient." Christine sounded like she was pouting a bit. "Christine, it seems almost foolish to think of this now, I know….but I know that we will one day have to have a proper home for you, and for our…family. I am not certain where we will make our home, but it does give us something to think about, dream about. I fear we may spend many months traveling, until we can find a place where we will not be questioned, but accepted." Erik said, gently rubbing Christine's shoulder. "I know, it will all come in time." Christine said.

Christine stretched, pulling her arms above her head, and up around Erik's neck. "My dear husband. I've done nothing for you today…you've been the one to take care of all of our needs." Erik smiled up at her satisfied that he'd provided for her as she came to her elbow once again. "May I do something for you?" Christine said with a smile crossing her face. "My dear, whatever you wish for I am yours." Erik looking a bit confused, but agreeing to trust her.

She gently reached under his back and began to roll him over to his stomach. Erik had never allowed his back to be turned to anyone, he felt far too vulnerable. He would fight his need to roll back over, to maintain eye contact; he had to trust her.

Christine gently slid a blanket under Erik's chin, and turned his head slightly to the side. "Christine, I…" "Shhh now. I am not going to hurt you, actually, I am hoping to bring you some relief." Christine placed her soft hands at the top of Erik's neck. She began to gently massage each tender muscle, feeling the tension that had been built from days of toil, and years of worry. Her hands traveled down his back, vertebrae by vertebrae. Coming to his shoulders she worked tenderly on each one, until she could begin to feel his muscles relax. She cradled each of his arms in her hands, carefully massaging the bicep, forearm, wrists, fingers. She swirled her index finger in the center of each of his palms, tracing the curve of his lifeline. Her hands glided to his back and worked her way all the way down each leg. She massaged each foot carefully, gently.

When she was finished, she gently ran her fingers up and down lightly on his back. Bringing herself to rest next to Erik on the pillow. He had slipped into a peaceful sleep, at the tender touch of his gentle wife. She smiled as she looked at his sleeping face, hoping that he was comfortable…and content.

As he had dozed off, Eric could never remember a sweeter thing that anyone had done for him. He had promised to let her love him, help him feel whole. Slowly she was cracking that exterior wall he had painstaking built to keep the world out. She was piercing it with her goodness, her compassion, and her love.


	29. Dinner and Suffering

Chapter 29 Dinner and Suffering 

"Good Sir, I've released your men for the morning. I've been to the center of where we left our search last evening, and discovered an escape route, that I am very certain that must have been used by that monster." Raoul looked most seriously at the officer.

"With all due respect sir, could we call him the Phantom, it makes my work so much easier." The officer inquired. Raoul snorted, "it doesn't matter to me what we call him, he is a murderer, a kidnapper, a destroyer of all things good, call him the child of the devil for all I care. If you feel better giving him a name, so be it, as long as we understand that he must be brought to justice." Raoul said. "Fine, we shall call him the Phantom," the officer decided.

"Now tell me, what are your intentions with my men?" The officer asked. Raoul sat himself down in one of the chairs across the desk from the man. "We should search all of the inns, barns, cellars, carriages, any abandoned buildings. Really anywhere that one could hide. Unless he was able to procure a horse, and able to reach the outskirts of Paris by first light, he would have been observed by someone." The officer sat rubbing his scruffy chin as he listened to Raoul. "Of course public interest must be kept in mind. It is doubtful that he would terrorize this city now that he has what he came for…." The officer noticed the agitated look on Raoul's face, and straightened himself in his chair.

"It will take many men to accomplish this type of a search soon enough to have any benefit. Is it possible that the De Chagny family will be able to help us?" The officer looked curiously at Raoul. Raoul knew what the man was asking. "It's all about money isn't it? As if the taxes that are extracted from my family aren't enough, you'd like more for….for…just doing your civil service?"

The officer, looking a bit embarrassed for being so transparent. "It's just that resources are scarce now, with the fire and the ensuing mayhem. It would take a good twenty men or more to search Paris in a full day, and I've not that many to spare for it now."

Raoul rose from his chair, walking over to the window, grabbing the sash and glaring out it. "I will see that you and your reserve corps are duly compensated. Call them forth, for we will plan to leave by mid-afternoon. In the meantime, please have your men rest and take in a good meal. Once we begin the search we will not want to stop lest we lose our opportunity to snare him…..if he has not already left."

Raoul rose, and walked toward the door. "My father will return later today to make the necessary financial arrangements." The officer smiled, don't you be worrying about a thing, we'll see to it that it is all is arranged."

Raoul mounted his horse. He would look around the building himself while he waited for the men to assemble. The horse walked slowly around the large expanse of the building's perimeter. Raoul had never actually been all the way around the building before, function had never called for it. He was somewhat amazed to find the building was nearly as beautiful on all sides as it was at the front. No detail had been spared, no ornamental embellishment had been missed. The windows were all missing in the front of the building from the sheer heat of the fire that had raged there. Toward the back and on the far sides of the building, the stained glass windows were still intact, and it was obvious, that aside from the smoke that had penetrated that far, that portion of the building was no worse for wear. The building was not a total loss, but would most certainly take months or years to restore.

Raoul looked for any other hidden grates, poking around any grassy areas, or ones covered with leaves. He found no others. "This must have been his only escape route." Raoul thought to himself. Unless others traveled beyond somewhere into the city. It really mattered little now he supposed, as he was very certain that they had already escaped.

Raoul trotted around to the front of the building again, passing the horse stables, and the grand entrance. He found his way over to the front of the café he had visited that morning. Dismounting his horse, he pushed his way in through the heavy door. "Good afternoon to you sir." The shopkeeper said. "I'll need a few provisions, some water, a small loaf of bread, a bit of hard cheese." Raoul said, reaching into his pocket to gather some coins. The man hurriedly filled Raoul's order, packing it into a sack.

"Sir, perhaps you'd like some soup and bread before your search. Several other men have been in taking up their lunches so they could be ready. It pleased Raoul that the officer had taken him seriously, and was indeed assembling the group of men as Raoul sat. "Yes, I think that is a wise idea. I'll have what you mentioned."

Raoul walked back to the table he had occupied earlier, sitting his bag down on the floor. Soon a large bowl of broth with vegetables and large hunks of meat was before him. He really had no appetite, but thought it better to eat something warm than to have hunger pang him later. He dipped his spoon into the soup, moving it about, inhaling the steam. He tore a piece off of the loaf of bread, sopping in the soup, and raising it to his lips. The soup was warm, and the broth was tasty.

He fought his temptation not to eat, thinking Christine probably had gone without a meal, feeling guilty that he should be enjoying something when she could not. He shook his head, and proceeded to dunk bits of bread into the bowl until all of the broth had been consumed. He drank the glass of milk, and was standing by the table now. "Thank you for the meal." Raoul said, reaching into his pocket. "No, no, sir, this is my treat…you compensated me well enough this morning." Raoul put on his jacket and made his way to the door. Opening it with a large tug, he walked through and was pulling it closed.

"Sir?" The man called after Raoul. Raoul opened the door again. "About the bag of bread sir?" Raoul stepped back into the café. "Yes?" Raoul said anxiously. "I thought I ought to tell you that the bag I left there last night was still there this morning. In fact it's still there. I'll put out a fresh one tonight." Raoul nodded and exited the café.

Raoul made his way back towards the police office. He could see the men assembling, some on horseback, others on foot. All carrying a sack of some sort or another. "Good, they are coming prepared." One of the men pointed as Raoul approached. "Monsier De Chagny!" One called out. "We are nearly all here, do tell us what you would like to do…how you would like us to proceed." Raoul came to a hault and dismounted his horse. The man approached him, extending his hand to shake Raoul's. "Good sir, we are twenty-five strong today, and we are at your constant disposal." "Thank you sir. I'll be in the office until everyone is here." Raoul pointed toward the door, and went to, entering the buzzing hive.

XXXXXXXX

"Thank you Sara." Madame Giry rose, picking up her dishes, carrying them to the counter. "The dinner was wonderful." Meg followed her mother's lead. "I'm glad to have some company. I've not had such a pleasant visit in a great long while." Sara replied.

"So what are your plans today?" Sara asked, looking over her shoulder as she carried the remaining items to the kitchen. Meg and Madame Giry looked at one another, not certain how to respond. "I'm not quite sure yet…I suppose I should go the Opera House and see what if anything is left…and then tend to my charges. I assume that all found lodging for the night, but there are several whose parents shall have to be contacted to be sent back home, until further arrangements can be made." Madame Giry said looking at Meg whose face had paled at the thought of it all. "I suppose so." Sara said. "Let me be knowing if you need some help. I know most of the innkeepers on these streets, and I'd be happy to help."

Sara had busied herself boiling some water to do the dishes. Meg and Madame Giry ventured up the stairs, tidying up their room. Sara called from downstairs. "If you are needing some cloaks, I have several extra here that you may borrow." Madame Giry called down her thanks to Sara. "She is such a pleasant woman, a kind friend." Meg said to her mother who nodded her head in agreement.

"Mother, do you think anyone would have stayed in that awful place?" Meg inquired. "My child, I doubt it. The heat and smoke would have shooed out anyone who dared try." Madame Giry reached out and put a hand on Meg's shoulder. "We will see what remains of our Opera House my dear…then we shall look for your friends." Meg smiled, following her mother back down the staircase. "Thank you for the cloaks Sara." Meg called back to her as she and her mother departed.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Christine lay for a long while, gently rubbing Erik's back. His long supple torso now relaxed. She marveled at how soft his skin was. Looking closely she could see small streaks of scars on his back, no doubt where he had been whipped and beaten. By whom she did not know. Erik's past was long and dark…the pain in one's eyes does not come without much suffering.

How gentle he was with her, having known so little compassion. His masked face lying down on the blanket, she marveled at his handsomeness. His father no doubt had been a handsome man, perhaps his mother an elegant woman. Such fine features belonged not to peasants Christine thought to herself. She smiled down at him, pulling the covers up over his shoulders. He was relaxed, he was happy, and she oddly felt whole. What she had hoped to give him, in this strange place, she had found herself.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The afternoon was long, the search was thorough. Not one inn was unexplored, not one barn unexamined. Every coachman, every stable, every building. The search was exhausting. It was past the dinner hour now, and the light was beginning to fail. The men began to speak of a nights' rest and a warm fire.

The individual groups were set to meet at half-past six at the police office. Raoul's small contingent was the last to arrive at the office. Raoul searched the group of men with his eyes, looking for any hopeful indication that something had been found, a rumor, a whisper, anything.

As each group reported to the commanding officer, it became painfully obvious that the day's search had produced nothing. Raoul sat down on an overturned crate, leaning back against the wall. Another fruitless day. He could only hope that the night would reveal more, or at the least provide some relief to the discomfort he had deep within his heart.

"Sir, I do not know what to tell you. Nothing out of the ordinary…nothing suspicious at least, in light of the fire, and the mass of people scurrying away from it." The officer looked at Raoul. "What are your intentions Sir?" Raoul looked wearily at all the men. "I think another search, tomorrow, at first light. We will split up, different groups going to different parts of the city. Perhaps a days time will produce more evidence."

The officer walked back to the group, giving orders, issuing thanks. The men began to break up and depart. Some walking past Raoul as he sat now, giving pitiful glances, conveying their apologies with their eyes.

As the last of them left, Raoul shook the officer's hand, thanking him for his work. Raoul walked over to his horse as the stableman had brought him back after brushing and primping him. "Quite a steed sir." The officer said as he patted the animal's front quarter. "Yes, a gift from my father, for my impending nuptials." With that Raoul clicked his tongue and gave the horse a quick jab in his rib cage. He road off toward the western horizon, the setting sun gleaming bright orange before him. "Pitiful" the officer said, shaking his head as he walked back towards his office.


	30. Tears and Tickles

Chapter 30 Tears and Tickles 

Madame Giry and Meg had been in the Opera House for hours. The shadows were growing larger as the sun was setting, adding another eerie layer to the somber sadness that shrouded their former home. The smoldering was gone, the remains either charred or soaked in soot and black water.

The grief in her mother's eyes was more than Meg could bare. It had been her mother's life…her life…for as long as she could remember. What would become of them now was a mystery.

Word had been received by the fire master of all of the ballerina's and chorus girls whereabouts. Some parents had been arriving late in the day to pick them up, others were taken in by relatives, or friends. Madame Giry was grateful for the love that Paris was showing them. Another prayer answered.

"Mother?" "Yes dear?" "Mother shouldn't we at least go back and check the dressing rooms…the room with the door?" Meg said, looking at her mother, doubt in her eyes. "My dear Meg, you know very well that the search parties have been down there a number of times. Should they have found anything, there would have been celebrating in the streets." Meg looked down at the ground, realizing the truth in her mother's words.

"Meg, we can at least look, if that would help your heart get through this tragedy." Madame Giry said resignedly. Meg's eyes perked up a bit as she and her mother walked behind the soot covered stage, to the rear dressing rooms in the Opera House. Madame Giry opened the door first to her room. She had a small but suitable room while she was there. Never having returned to her home after her husband's death, preferring to stay near Meg.

The room smelled of burnt feathers and wood, but had essentially escaped the ravages of the fire. Perhaps it had been the brick hallway, or the sturdy door. Whatever it was, Madame Giry was most thankful. Nearly all of her treasured things were with her in that room. Her family bible, her pictures, her notes from Erik. So many memories. She fell to her knees leaning against the post of her bed and began to cry bitterly.

Meg rushed to her side trying in vain to comfort her. "Mother, it will be alright….it will all be alright…I can feel it." Madame Giry reached out clutching her daughter in her arms. The two sat crying as the golden shafts of sunlight shone their last, and darkness descended.

XXXXXXXX

Erik woke, finding Christine at his side gently rubbing the small of his back. Her tender hands caressing his skin. He reached out running his index finger along her jaw. "You are awake." She said smiling at him, only inches away from his face. "The sweetness of this moment shall live in my mind forever my dear Christine."

She looked deep into his eyes, seeing something in them she had not seen before. There was a glimmer, faint though it be, a glimmer of a bare soul, one daring to trust, allowing itself to be loved. She lifted her hands running her fingers through his hair, gently rubbing his neck and shoulder. "I'm glad it pleased you. To know I'd brought you some comfort…for all you've done for me…" Christine could feel the love she had for this man….her husband…welling up inside of her. Not the love that had captured them several times before on their first day as husband and wife, but the kind of love that is shared when two souls begin to fuse and merge. They lay just looking into one another's eyes….

"Christine, come closer my dear, let me wrap you in my arms forever." Christine smiled and nestled into the crook of Erik's arms. He gently pulled her to him, resting her cheek on his chest. "Tonight we will leave this place. We shan't return here unless we have to seek refuge again, but it is my hope that we shall not need to. I'll need you to remember the way back here in case we become separated or …." Erik did not finish. He knew the dangers that the outside world could bring them.

"If you should find yourself alone, you may come back here, and I will find you. The stone will be difficult for you to move, but I think you could if you needed to." Christine looked a little worried. "I said I would never leave your side. If something happens to one, it happens to both. Our flesh is no longer separate now, what has been joined can be separated only by death or God himself." Christine said resolutely.

"My heart swells to hear you speak of such things…but I offer this only as a solution in case the need arises. You know I would fight to my last breath to keep us from being parted…but sometimes we cannot control all circumstances." Erik looked seriously at Christine. "This has been a safe place, a wonderful place for me, one that will always be filled with sweet memories, that only the two of us share." Christine smiled at him again, nestling down against his bare chest once more. "Erik?" "Yes my dear, what is it?" "I love you." Erik felt warm. He would never tire of hearing her say that, never. "I love you too." Erik managed as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Now my dear" Erik said, kissing Christine's forehead, "we must dress and plan for our travels." Erik began to sit up, pulling Christine up with him. She whimpered a bit, having been warm and cozy. Erik laughed. "My dear Christine, we cannot stay in bed forever!" He smiled kissing the end of her nose.

"I don't see why not, it is a perfectly fine place to be!" She pouted her lips, causing Erik to chuckle. "You are so adorable, I've never seen you pout this way before. Well…maybe once…when I ended our lesson abruptly one night after you started to lose focus…you pouted that night…but even that was not as endearing as this!"

Erik turned to her, pushing her playfully back against the covers and began to smother her face in kisses. Christine began to giggle, pushing at Erik's mid section trying to get him to stop. "Don't, don't, you're tickling me…" Christine managed between gasping for air and laughing."

"Tickling you? Really?" A large grin spreading across his face. He reached down to Christine's sides and began to playfully run his fingers across her stomach, causing her to curl up into a ball in fits of laughter. There the two of them lay, reaching out like two playmates trying to get the best of one another, taking turns being the victim and the aggressor. True newlyweds in anyone's eyes. Sweet laughter filling the cave, blooming love filling the room.


	31. Truth in the bottom of a glass

Chapter 31 Truth in the bottom of a glass 

Raoul handed the reins of his horse to his stableman and walked toward the back door of the house. He never used the service entrance, but tonight he was not interested in formality. Entering he could smell the aroma of a roasted beef and Yorkshire pudding. In all other cases he would have been eager to dine, but tonight he longed for a liquid comfort, a distraction that food could not provide. He passed through the kitchen, causing a hush to fall on his servants, making his way to his study. A fire had been started for him, but was only a kindle now as it had not expected its guest until after supper. He pulled the long heavy doors closed, indicating to all whom past that he was not interested in having company.

Selecting a large crystal tumbler from the shelf, he poured a stiff bourbon; lifting it to his lips as he sank into the leather seat before the fireplace. The liquor burned his throat, causing his eyes to water. He loosened the straps on his boots, slipping them off and allowing them to fall with a large thud to the floor. His manners all but forgotten now, he slumped in the chair, pouring another drink from the bottle sitting next to him on the table. Tonight he would drown his sorrows, for who knew what would be born on the winds of the morrow.

XXXX

Meg and Madame Giry made their way across the street, back to the inn. They had managed to carry away a few small things from the Opera House, not wanting them to be stolen or destroyed. The light in the inn flickered as they opened the door. They were greeted by the inviting scent of simmering soup, and what was likely a freshly baking cherry pie. "Hmmmm something smells wonderful…Sara?"

"Yes mum, I thought you'd be hungry when you returned. Dinner should be ready soon. I've made my favorite beef and vegetable soup, some dark rye bread, and pie for coffee after dinner." Sara said smiling at them.

"I am most grateful for you Sara." Madame Giry said. Meg glanced over at the table, it was again set for two. "Sara" Meg said, "won't you be joining us for dinner this evening?" Sara turned and blushed a little "it was most wonderful of you to invite me to lunch with you today, I would never have been so presumptuous to assume to have dinner with you also."

Meg walked over to her, clasping her hand. "If it is alright with you Sara, we'd love for you to dine with us for as long as we stay." Sara smiled at Meg, glancing over at Madame Giry, who gave her a reassuring nod. "If you'd not mind the company, I'd love to." Sara smiled, squeezing Meg's hand. She walked over to the cupboard to fetch another place setting.

With her back turned she said "I've drawn two hot baths for you upstairs…I was thinking you might want to have them after your work today." One at each end of the hall. I've left you warm robes and a pair of thick stockings to wear. Meg and Madame Giry smiled at one another. "Sara, your kindness overwhelms me, thank you." Sara turned as the two were mounting the stairs. "You are most welcome. Dinner should be ready about quarter past, so you have plenty of time….that is the best part about soup…the longer it simmers, the better it gets." Sara could hear Meg laughing as she disappeared from site.

Meg opened the door to the tiny room at the end of the hall. Inside there was a small fireplace, a claw foot tub, and a chair. She peered out the window. From what she could make out in the darkness, it overlooked a flower garden of some sort, no doubt beautiful in the spring. She looked back at the vapor rising from the water, thinking how very lovely it would feel as she sunk into its depths.

Meanwhile, down the hall Madame Giry was doing the same, slipping out of her dress, and shoes. She hadn't been out of those clothes in two days, and the hot water on her skin was heavenly. As she allowed each muscle to relax in the warmth of the water she smiled. Hints of lavender and lilac tickling at her nose. It had been a long while since she had felt so luxuriated. "Thank you Erik." She said under her breath as she closed her eyes to take in the full enjoyment of the bath.

Sara busied herself setting the table, and setting a kettle on the stove to boil for coffee. She barely heard the rap on the back door of the inn. "What?" Sara said. There it was again. Tap, tap, tap. Sara walked to the heavy back door. "Sorry, no rooms, all full." There was silence. "Hmmp." Sara said walking back toward the kitchen. Then the tapping began again. She walked over trying to peer out the window but could see nothing. Somewhat hesitantly she pulled the door open just a little to see who was so rude as to intrude on an inn already full.

"Good sir, we are full, I am sorry to tell you…." "Madame," the masculine voice began "I am the one who procured the rooms from you not a week ago. I trust you still have rooms available here for my wife and I?" Sara opened the door, hoping to see who the mystery man was. She was surprised to see a hunched over man, carrying a cane, his wife no more straightened than he, behind him. "Why do come in. My guests will be most grateful to meet you. They are somewhat curious as to your identity, as I must admit am I." Sara said, trying desperately to get a better look.

"My husband is not well" the feeble voice of the woman came from behind him. "We would very much like to retire to our room if it's not too much trouble." Sara opened the door and let them in. "I am Madame Giry's uncle's brother, yet I've thought of her as my niece all of her life, as my brother died when she was quite young." "Oh I see." Said Sara.

"If it is not too much trouble, and if you're able, might we have a bit of supper in our room once we are settled?" the old woman inquired. "Yes, I've plenty of soup, but why not dine with us here tonight?" Sara replied invitingly motioning to the already set dinner table.

"We've had a long travel, my husband as I mentioned is not well." "I see, I certainly understand." Sara moved past the door, closing it behind them. She led them up the stairs, offering to carry one of the bags for the gentleman, he graciously accepted. Sara felt sorry she had no rooms on the main floor for them, so they wouldn't have need to climb the stairs. The pair followed her to a large room near the back of the inn.

"Had I known you were coming, I'd have lit a fire, this room is a bit chilly." Sara moved over to the fireplace, setting the bag down. She immediately set about lighting a fire for them. The man moved to a chair, setting down in it, resting his cane on the side. His wife followed suit, sitting in the chair beside his. Sara got up and lit the two oil lamps on either side of the bed.

"Do you need help unpacking…is there anything that I can do for you before I bring you supper?" "No" the gentleman said. Sara smiled and walked to the door. "Oh, mum, if you don't mind, I'd rather you not trouble your other guests with the news of our arrival. I am sure they are exhausted themselves, and another night's rest would do them well. We can all visit in the morning." Sara nodded. "Yes, but of course. I'll see to your supper….welcome." Sara closed the door and made her way back down to the kitchen.

The door no more than shut behind the woman, than Christine was in Erik's arms. She could feel the lump in her throat as the tears began to swell from deep within her. "Oh Erik….thank you, thank you." Christine crawled into his lap, tugging at her awkwardly large dress. Erik smiled with great pleasure as he wrapped his arms around Christine. "No matter where we will travel, we needed to know they were alright…..they…needed to know we were alright." Erik planted a delicate kiss on Christine's cheek.

The pair sat silently holding one another, as the kindle in the fireplace began to grow. The shadows and flickers of light from the fire dancing across Christine's eyes. Even in the drab gray garments she now donned, Erik thought she was more beautiful than she had been just the day before. His love was filling her, lighting the way for the woman she was to be.

He reached out and pulled Christine's head to his chest, resting his chin on her forehead. "You are a beautiful creature." He said, reaching beneath her cloak to run his hand over her back.

"Erik, you make me blush…you needn't tell me such things so often." Christine replied shyly. "But I must, a truth this evident must always be shared." Erik smiled, now wrapping his arms around her shoulders, covering her, pulling her into his protection. He would die for her he thought to himself. How very blessed he was to have her here with him now.

How Eric longed to have Christine reunited with Meg, if only for a night. How he longed to spend some time with his old friend, nay, his sister…..but that would have to wait for the dark of night, when no eyes or ears could witness the reunion.


	32. Hot baths and supper

Chapter 32 Hot baths and supper 

Christine thanked Sara for the tray as she quietly closed the door behind her. She straightened herself and carried it over to the small table that sat between the two chairs. Christine inhaled deeply the rising aroma of the roasted beef and vegetable broth. Her eyes roamed the tray finding a mixture of breads, butter, cheeses, and several slices of steaming cherry pie, a small kettle with coffee, and several cups.

"Erik, we have a feast!" Christine said in a whisper. Erik smiled at her, helping her lower it to the table. As she sat down in her chair, she looked appreciatively at Erik. He reached over and they joined hands in a quiet prayer. There before the growing fire they shared their supper, savoring each warm and delicious bite.

XXXX

Meg slipped into the warm robe, pulling on the thick stockings stretching her toes to enjoy the comfort of them on her newly washed feet. She was thankful to have some of her clothes to put on tomorrow, a few things they had brought back with them that afternoon.

She opened the door carefully, not wanting to disturb her mother if she was not yet finished. As she walked to the staircase, she noticed a small sliver of light glowing from beneath the door of the room in the back hall. "How odd" she thought to herself as she padded down the stairs being drawn toward the wonderful scents of the supper that awaited her.

"Sara?" Meg called out. "Yes" Sara looked up at her as she was setting the tureen in the center of the table. "Will you be sleeping upstairs tonight?" Sara turned quickly back toward the kitchen. "Why no…why do you ask?" "It's just that I noticed a light in the bedroom upstairs that I hadn't before." "Oh, that, not to worry, I've just been tidying up a bit in there, must've forgotten to turn the lamp down." Sara said nervously. "Oh" Meg said, sitting herself down at the table. "Is there anything that I can do to help?" Meg asked. "No, but thank you, I'll wait to bring out the rest when your mum comes down."

Sara joined Meg at the table. "So, today….was it difficult for your mum…for you?" Meg looked down "yes, it was hard…I could see the disappointment in my mother's eyes…the loss…" Sara nodded. "It's been her life for a long while." Meg looked at Sara "it was as much as anything the loss of two dear souls…one my age, a daughter of sorts I guess you could say….the other….an old friend." Meg paused, being surprised at how her emotions ebbed and flowed. Sara reached out a hand and covered Meg's.

"It is difficult…for you…for your mum…but things will all work out…they always seem to have a way of working out." Meg nodded her head in agreement.

"What are you two talking about?" Madame Giry said as she descended the stairs. "Oh, the day a bit, just…well…the Opera House." Meg said, looking at her mother.

"I see" Madame Giry said walking toward the table, and taking her place in the seat on the opposite side of Meg's. "Yes, it was indeed a difficult day," she said looking firmly at Meg. "Now, let us change our conversation to something more pleasant…" Sara smiled at Madame Giry, getting up to fetch the remainder of their supper.

"Meg" her mother said in a whisper "let us be careful what we share with our new friend…we have not known her long." Meg, understanding her mother's instructions, nodded. She then got up to help Sara.

"Oh dear, you needn't help me, you are my guests.." Sara said trying to protest Meg's assistance. "Sara, I prefer to if you don't mind terribly." Sara smiled and nodded toward the plate of bread. "Alright, if you insist." They carried the remaining items to the table. Madame Giry looked at the pie, carefully sliced and put onto individual plates, and at the bread, sliced and arranged. It seemed odd to her that they had not come to the table whole. She quickly dismissed it as the three began a prayer, and then set about enjoying their wonderful dinner.

The candlelight danced in the window, as the chilly winter winds blew outside. This was a temporary haven from the horrors of the outside world. In it, the three took pleasure in each other's company, and the fine meal before them. In the rooms above, a pair was doing the same. The night had a life of its' own, a mysterious aura circled the house, for the night had other plans aside from slumber.

**Author's Notes:**

Once again, thank you for the encouraging reviews. I hope that you don't mind that I've changed the location of my replies. It seemed all too distracting to have them at the beginning of the chapters, even though I wanted to respond to you immediately. You've probably noticed I have trouble keeping the replies short, so it takes up quite a bit of space. Hope no one minds! Alas, what is a story without someone to read it….it would simply be words floating out into oblivion!

**Captain Oblivious**: "Captain my Captain…" sorry, I know that quote is from an unrelated story, I've just wanted to use it for you, and this seemed an appropriate time after your absence! Yes, I was beginning to worry that I'd bored you to the point of abandonment…thankfully, you proved me incorrect. Indeed, work is brutal, I myself have three jobs…one for financial stability, the other two for fun…I must keep myself busy to stay out of mischief!

Sorry for the side step….back to the story…yes, I thought it about time that Erik had as you say it "a steady stream of affection" when a soul has had to live in such torture at length, only the unconditional affections of a committed lover, and the physical contact of a compassionate spirit could begin to crack the walls around his hardened heart. That heart has to be softened before he can accept….(oh almost spoiled the story I did….) Ah…Yes, you're probably wondering about my mental health right about now, but sadly I am quite sane….just a sticky-sweet sap with a love for….love stories! (Notice I didn't say "happily ever afters!") Hmmmm….

Oh…what ambitious goals you have…to love the entire world! Better get started right away! And, yes, just a warning, Erik might not approve of being poked by a pair of foreign hands, best watch yourself…..even if you can "book it!" remember he has an unparalleled temper…I might be forced into putting you in the story so that Erik can deal with you! I hope you enjoy the next chapters, they made me smile just writing them!

**Ethalas Tauth'an**: Thank you for staying with the story! Yes, they are happy…which makes me happy! I have a soft spot in my heart for Raoul…yes he is a spoiled prat, but what aristocrat wasn't in those days? Perhaps someone will have to teach him a lesson! Madame Giry, yes…I feel sorry for her…but something tells me that before the sun comes up in the morning, her life will be a bit different….I hope you enjoy chapters 31 and 32…

**Super Girlcom:** Thank you for such a fine compliment! I'm rather enjoying penning the story, and reliable is something that I hope I can be, alas I am reliable to a fault something akin to a faithful dog! Yikes…I've never had my feet kissed before…of such devotion I am unworthy. I do hope you enjoy the next chapters!

**Glitter Queen of the Ice Show**: Yes, it seemed he needed some non "physical" skin contact…even if they are newlyweds! It was time for some compassion…good Lord knows he had some tension that needed working out! I hope this part helps to solidify the fact that Christine loves Erik the person….not just Erik the hunky husband she now has! Oh….la faint! Chapters 31 and 32 add a little different twist…I hope you like them!

**AJNemo:** Hope you had a wonderful weekend! Yes, more chapters are on their way…it is so hard not to post too many at a time…the story is growing by leaps and bounds!

**Twinkle 22:** Thank you for reviewing the chapters. I'll keep writing as long as I know someone out there is reading it! Oh, who am I kidding….I'd keep writing if no one was reading it….but I'm glad that you are!


	33. Poison and Passion

Chapter 33 Poison and Passion 

The decanter now nearly half empty sat on the table beside the fire. The glass was in Raoul's hand as he stood next to the window, his cheek pressed against the frosty pane. He stared out into the distant night sky, not really thinking, just merely existing in the alcohol induced fog that enveloped him. He felt numb, hollow, broken.

He had lost her, and it was his own doing. She had either gone with the Phantom to spare Raoul's life, or she had CHOSEN that monster over him….both thoughts equally too agonizing to accept. It mattered little which he selected as the plausible option, he could see no other fault but his own. He shouldn't have forced her hand, made her do that which she was so afraid of. Raoul didn't know if he could live with himself. He had either led her to or pushed her into the arms of that caped monster.

"Christine…will you ever….will I ever have the chance to…" Raoul gritted his teeth, fighting back the searing tears of self-loathing, of the inner-directed rage that teemed from every pore of his being. In his fury, he turned hurling the glass toward the rugged brick of the fireplace. It came smashing down against the unforgiving stone, bursting into a thousand shards of glass, raining down on everything within reach of it.

He heard a gentle knock on the door. "Sir, is everything alright…Sir?" his maid called to him cautiously. "Leave me…leave me alone." Raoul hissed, walking toward the door to be certain that the lock was securely fastened. He heard the quiet footsteps walking away from the room. Slumping back into his chair, he gazed into the fire. Oh how he wished he did not have to face the prospect of life without her…if only he could see her once more….to find her…to make certain she was o.k….to save her if…if… He closed his eyes. Slowly the vile liquid had taken control. He could do no more than relinquish to the substance that warmed him, that weakened his senses, that dulled his pain. The second night without her being far too much to be awake for.

XXXXXXXX

Christine and Erik, stared at the crackling fire. Its glow was strong and warming now. The heavy drapes still hung firmly over the windows of the room, letting little if any of the light escape. He glanced over at Christine, who was seemingly mesmerized by the dancing flicker of the flames.

"It reminds me of the flame in the Opera." She said not looking away from it. Erik, knowing what she meant, didn't interrupt. "It seems an eternity ago to me now…so much has changed in two days time." Christine didn't even blink. Erik thought he saw the first glimpse of sorrow cross her face. She turned to face him. "Erik, I am tired, would it be o.k. if we retired for the evening?" Erik, feeling the same, nodded in agreement.

Christine retrieved several garments from her bag, and walked behind the dressing screen. Erik sat in the chair by the fire. He glanced over at the fabric of the screen, being able to see Christine's shadow cast from behind it by the light reflected off the well placed mirror. She was so slender, her silhouette defined by the faint light. He saw her pulling her hair to one side, attempting to reach the laces on her dress. A routine would no doubt develop, but now, he smiled as he rose from his chair, knowing she would be calling for him. He walked ever so quietly to the screen.

"Christine?" he paused, then peeked around the side of the screen. She smiled discretely over her shoulder and nodded. Erik moved around to the back, reaching out his hands to the laces on her dress, and those of her corset. He was becoming quite adept at this, and that amazed even him. Having done what she needed, he leaned down, placing a gentle kiss on her left shoulder. She turned smiling at him. He moved back to his chair, removing his boots, undoing his cravat.

Christine reappeared from behind the dressing screen, a long flowing winter-white lace nightgown graced her frame. She had pulled her hair back with an ivory ribbon. Her collarbones pronounced on her lithe frame, she looked to him like a princess in high fashion. He had chosen the garments for her, but even he was amazed by how they complimented her beauty.

She stretched her arms high above her head, and then brought her hand over to cover her mouth as a yawn escaped. Erik chuckled to himself, smiling at her. Sometimes she still reminded him of her youth, her playful side appearing sweetly from time to time.

Walking over she knelt down before him. Resting her head on his knee, looking once again into the fire. Her brown curls tied behind her filled Erik's entire lap. He reached out and began stroking her neck, running his fingers over her exposed shoulder. She smiled, closing her eyes, reveling at the sensation of his touch. So much was expressed in their touch…so much more than words could ever manage.

Christine had nearly dozed off by the warmth of the fire. Erik's hands had slowed and now rested on her shoulder. She turned her head to look up at him. He was sound asleep. She smiled to herself at how relaxed he seemed when they were together now. Two days had begun to change him…he no longer had the look of an injured animal, but now appeared to her as a sleeping lion. Strong, dominate, but gentle with his mate, protective but sensitive.

She quietly rose from her knees, resting her head first on his chest, and then turning to face him fully, she began kissing his chest, moving slowly up to his neck, and then around the length of his strong jaw, until she embraced his lips tenderly. Erik never fluttered an eyelash, never changed his breathing, but his arms reached up to Christine's waist, his hands rising to her back, he pulled her to him, returning her kiss with the gentle acceptance of a husband, with the sweet surrender that belonged to only her. She was all he had ever wanted…all he would ever want, and he could not imagine wanting to be anywhere else in all of the world right now, than in the arms of the woman he loved.

Erik slipped one arm under Christine's knees, rising, bringing her up into his arms. She looked deeply into his eyes talking without saying a word. He leaned over kissing her forehead, moving quietly toward the bed. The sheets having been turned down, providing entry for Christine as Erik gently laid her down. The comfort of the bed beneath, a welcome change from that of previous evenings. He climbed in resting gently above her, kissing her passionately, wanting her to know that she was all he desired, sleep could wait.

Christine moved her hands from around his neck, gently slipping his shirt from his shoulders, releasing first one arm and then the other. Carefully rolling Erik to his back, tracing kisses down his cheek. She paused, in a hushed whisper saying "Erik, my husband, I love you…" Erik responded, returning her to her back, kissing her gently. "And my dear Christine…my precious wife…I love you…" The flicker of the flames now dancing in the room, the outside world slipped away into the beauty of the night.


	34. Reunion

Chapter 34 Reunion 

Meg, Sara, and Madame Giry, sat laughing at the dinner table, over a story Sara had just told about some previous guests, two older women who were sisters, one couldn't hear, the other couldn't see well. Sara's stories always brought them to laughter. In the seriousness of the reality of the past few days, laughter was a welcome distraction. Sara got up to fetch the kettle from the oven, pouring coffee into each of their cups to accompany their pie.

"Sara, this was entirely lovely. Thank you for dinner, and for the warm bath…it was wonderful on a night like tonight" said Madame Giry. "You are both most welcome" Sara said nodding toward them both. She put the kettle back on the stove returning to the table to share their dessert.

"Sara," Meg began, "how is that you came to being an innkeeper?" "Ah, that is truly a story." Sara said with a sweet melancholy in her voice. She settled herself in her chair, putting down her fork and taking a long sip from the strong coffee.

"When I was a young girl, my family moved many times. My sister and I enjoyed the adventure as children, but as we grew into our teen years, old enough to be married, it became more tedious than pleasant." Sara paused, looking at Meg. "Do you remember when I told you that all things seem to work out?" Meg nodded, Madame Giry looking at her daughter as though she had missed some important conversation.

"Well," Sara continued. "My father decided to pack our family, and all our worldly possession, and join a traveling band of gypsies." Sara looked expectantly at Meg and Madame Giry, for the usual response to such news. When neither looked distraught, she continued.

"My father thought this would be a safe way to travel through the country, trying to find a suitable place to make a permanent home. When we arrived here in Paris, he thought he had found it. A beautiful city, with plenty of work to be had, and much opportunity for my sisters and I to make good matches." Sara started to smile. "My sister and I were relieved to have a chance to start a new life, to make real friends. After several weeks, the group of gypsies moved on, my family staying behind." Sara's eyes seemed to wander off.

"My mother came down with Scarlet fever that first winter, and by spring her health was so poor that she could not manage to care for my sister and I. We were so worried for her…." Sara stopped, taking another sip from her cup. "Ruth and I had settled in our minds that Paris would be our home…but now with mother ill, we feared that father would send us off to live with our aunt. We had both found sweethearts, and were hoping to receive letters of engagement later that spring." Sara's eyes turned down. "My father had settled in his mind that he would be taking us all to our aunt's house as soon as the weather warmed enough to travel. My mother never made it to the first blooms of the season, she died in March that year." Sara looked sadly at the ground.

"Soon my father was preparing to sell our home, and take us all away from Paris. My sister's suitor was not yet prepared to take a wife, having to send her away, promising to call for her when he had his affairs in order.

My Johan could not bear to see me leave. We could not afford a long courtship, with a proper engagement, time would not permit it. So, with our father's blessings, we met at a church with our families and we were married just two weeks before my father packed up my and moved them to the south of France. Sadly, my sister's suitor never made the arrangements to bring her back to France. He ended up marrying another."

"So, I married and raised three wonderful children, with my husband. My only family being my mother buried in the graveyard not far from here. I visited her often, talking to her as though she was still alive and could offer some advice." Sara smiled at Meg and Madame Giry, a bit embarrassed that she'd gone into such detail.

"Years later, after my children were grown, and my husband had died, I turned my husband's leather shop into an inn, and I've been here ever since." Sara looked up smiling at them. "So now you know…perhaps more than you wanted to."

Madame Giry and Meg both smiled at Sara. "It is getting late, perhaps we should retire." Madame Giry said to Meg. "Oh, you are right." Meg said rising, helping Sara clear the table. The three began cleaning up the kitchen, in spite of Sara's protests. It was beginning to feel a bit like family, a comfortable, temporary family. Madame Giry putting covers on all that remained from the dinner, noticing that there was only one slice of pie left in the tin. "Strange," she thought to herself.

"Thank you again for dinner, and for the conversation." Meg and Madame Giry said as they went up the stairs. "Good night", Sara called after them. Meg and Madame Giry went up to their room, both glancing down the normally dark hall, noticing the small trickle of light that shone from beneath the door at the end of the hall.

"What on earth?" Madame Giry said, with question in her voice. "Oh, Sara said that she had been cleaning in there today, and had forgotten to turn down the lamps." Meg said to her mother. "Well," said Madame Giry, "we can help her with that. You go off to bed, I'll turn down the lamps." Madame Giry patted her daughter's hand. Meg smiled, giving her mother a peck on the cheek, wandering off to their room.

Madame Giry walked quietly to the end of the hall. She put her hand on the doorknob, and she thought she heard something. She shook her head, smiling to herself thinking how oddly she behaved. She was no longer in the Opera House where one had to look for constant visitors.

She opened the door ever so slightly, to see a tray with soup bowls and coffee cups, and two pieces of partially eaten pie. She closed the door again, confused by what she saw. "Who could be there?"

Without warning, the door opened, someone grabbed her by he arm, pulling her in, closing the door behind her, one hand over her mouth to stifle the scream she was trying to sound.

"Shhh…" came the low….familiar voice. "You'll wake her." Madame Giry felt faint. She tried to jerk away, but his grip was too tight. She wiggled away just enough to view the man at the end of the arm that held her. She gasped. Only twice before had she ever seen him without his mask, but she recognized him in an instant, even in the faint light.

Her eyes wide, she looked from him, to the bed and back again. She reached up her arms and grasped Erik about the shoulders, pulling him to her. He returning her embrace, removed his hand from her mouth.

"Erik…how did you…where have you…does anyone else….were you hurt….is she …the two of you here…" she could not complete a coherent sentence, all questions demanding to be answered at once.

"Christine is fine, I am not hurt, all is well. But I have much to tell you my dear friend…much to tell you. Let us go out while she is sleeping, she is very tired." Madame Giry nodded, leading Erik out of the room, and down the hall towards her own.

"Wait here for just a moment" she whispered to Erik, who was now reaching in his pocket for his mask. Madame Giry went into the room and over to the nightstand where Meg sat brushing her hair. She stood very close to Meg, whispering something in her ear, one hand over Meg's mouth.

Meg tried to speak, Madame Giry stopping her. "You can go to her, I need to speak to him. If she is not awake, just sit quietly on the bed, she will wake when she senses you are there." Meg nodded, getting up and smoothing down her nightclothes. She slipped on her robe.

Her mother opened the door. Nodding to Erik, who stepped into the room. Meg's eyes grew wide. She had never been this close to the Phantom, and though she knew he meant her no harm, she couldn't help but suck in a sharp breath and reel back a bit seeing him this closely. Meg looked down for a second, and then a bit hesitantly walked over and put her arm around his waist, and her head on his chest. "We were so worried for you…I am glad to see you are alright." With that, Meg slipped past him, and padded softly down the hallway toward the room where her best friend slept. Though the hall was dark, the brilliance of the moment shown brightly for Meg, her friend was alive, her mother's friend was alive….!

Erik stood there, not really knowing how to react to what had just happened. Madame Giry walked past him and sat on the edge of the bed. Erik closed the door walking over to the chair sitting across from where she sat. Settling down into it he looked up at her. It was difficult to begin, and since they were reduced to whispers, the story took long to tell. He began with saying "I am sorry, I am truly sorry…" the rest just spilled out. The flight, the hiding, …..the wedding. When at last Erik had told her all that he would, he sat back in the chair, searching the face of his friend.

Madame Giry stood up and walked over to the window, looking out, unable to speak. "I know that this is all quite abrupt, quite unexpected….it all happened so quickly," Erik said, shame in his voice. He at once felt guilty for what he had done, not only the Opera House, but to the small family that Madame Giry, Meg, and Christine were a part of. "My friend, please tell me…" Erik coaxed Madame Giry.

She turned to him, tears streaming down her face. She walked over throwing her arms around him, hugging him as a long lost brother. "I always knew….always knew she would be yours…never doubted." She said between the sobs that had taken over. "Yes, I am sad, the Opera House, the dancers….but I am most thankful that you, that Christine are alright."

Erik felt a sense of relief welling inside of him, as calming as a gentle cool breeze. She did not reject what he had told her, did not say it was preposterous, did not think it impossible that Christine loved him. She rose and went over to sit on the bed, patting a spot next to hers. "Come, sit where it is comfortable, tell me of your plans, how I might be able to help." Madame Giry wiping the tears from her eyes. Erik smiled, rose and joined her.

XXXXX

Christine was dreaming. Her dreams were no longer fearful, they were oddly pleasant, and nearly all had Erik in them. She was dreaming of their daughter. Beautiful dark hair flowing in the wind as she ran hand-in-hand with her father along the beach by the sea at sunset, out to draw pictures in the sand. Christine was smiling as she woke, reaching out to the pillow next to hers feeling for her husband. Rubbing her eyes, she raised herself to her elbows. "Erik?" She whispered.

Her eye caught the shadow sitting in the chair. It abruptly changed, turning around she saw that it was Meg. Christine put her hand over her mouth, keeping the scream from escaping between her lips. The two catching each other's eyes at the same time.

Meg quickly flitted across the floor, trying not to make a noise, the two hugging wildly, pulling apart to look at each other's faces, smiling and hugging again.

"Christine" Meg said in an excited whisper "what is this change in you?" Christine smiled at Meg and pulled her left hand from beneath her nightgown, revealing for Meg the diamond that sparkled in the soft glow of the fire. Meg looked back and forth from the ring to Christine's wide smile. She nearly leapt into her arms, hugging her as only a sister would.

"Do tell me," Meg said in a pleading voice. The two now sitting across from each other on the bed, as they had done so many other times before in their lives, sharing secrets and making sweet memories. "Let me tell you….I can hardly believe it myself…he is wonderful…." Meg smiled back at her. "Do go on." Meg said. Christine smiled and began to tell the story of their flight, the cave and most importantly of the wedding.

In two rooms, not ten doors apart, old friends were reunited, prayers answered, new memories forged. As the snow began to fall softly on the sleeping world outside, the lights of the lives within those walls shone brightly. Even Sara rested in the rooms below, comforted by the knowledge that friends were sleeping in her house, and if but for a few days, she was not alone.

Author's Notes:

**Captain Oblivious**: Oh how you make me laugh. I have a very vivid imagination, so the humorous overtones of your explanations come alive in my mind. Ah, yes, Erik would find you a most interesting subject….. Hope you enjoy the coming chapters….things will become….let us just say rather interesting!


	35. Revelations

Chapter 35 Revelations 

Raoul woke, his neck sore from being crooked in the chair, his feet asleep. The fire was gone, the room was dark, his head was throbbing. Raising the liquor decanter it in the failing moonlight he could see that it was half empty, or was it half full? Tonight the pulsing in his head told him he was a pessimist, the decanter was indeed half empty. The first half residing within him, flowing through every fiber of his being. "Uhhh." Raoul said setting it back on the table, putting its cover in place.

He rose, carefully side-stepping the broken glass. Walking over to the window, he peered outside once more at the freshly falling snow. Rest was a necessity, yet his soul refused to be comforted, to let go long enough to allow him peace of any kind. Though his body cried out for it, his mind would have none of it.

Tomorrow would bring yet another search of the city, and yet, somehow, he knew his Christine was gone…if not in body…then in spirit. Though she was gone, his love for her would never die…he knew it. It would simply fester like a deep splinter in a raw wound. While flesh may grow over the gaping fissure in his heart, he would never be whole again. He might have every worldly pleasure, every comfort money could buy, but the one thing he longed for he knew with near certainty, would remain just out of his grasp….forever.

Raoul shook his head fighting the muddy haze that was now his consciousness. Setting the decanter back on the shelf, he moved toward the heavy oak doors, pushing them open. The warmth of the other rooms spilled in. It was the light in the kitchen that drew him.

"Who on earth would still be awake at this hour?" He mumbled under his breath. Pulling back his hair, straightening his waist jacket. The hall was long and dark, as he walked near silently in his stocking clad feet. He imagined it was a cook or maid preparing something for the next day. He rubbed his eyes, preparing to give a curt greeting and to admonish them to put out the lights and retire. As he passed into the kitchen, nothing could prepare him for what he saw. There was his father, head resting on the table, a cup of cold coffee at his side, a half eaten sandwich lain on the plate. Raoul gasped.

Raoul had not seen his father, not in his house anyway, for some time. The last he'd really spoken to the man was during the holidays, and that was months ago. The letter he'd sent to him by footman yesterday was the first time since then that they had any communication.

Raoul couldn't decide whether to wake him, or to go back to the study and pretend he 'd never seen him. Yet, it tugged at his mind why his father would come all this way in the night and not disturb him before now. His father was nothing, if not a deliberate man.

Raoul walked to the end of the table, standing across from where his father's head lay. He replayed in his mind the last argument that they had before he stormed out of his father's house on New Year's Day. Raoul gritted his teeth, his father's bitter words still stung in his ears. "She's not of any society, her father was a violinist, although respectable, hardly of the caliber that my son should marry….break off your engagement quietly so as not to embarrass her, or our family."

Raoul squeezed his eyes tightly shut, clenching his fists. He inhaled sharply, turning away from his father, staring yet again out a window. "Why had his love for her not meant more to his father than social standing? Did his happiness mean nothing to him? Their father's after all had been friends…was a famous violinist's child only acceptable as a playmate, not a life mate? Raoul remembered storming out of the study yelling back to his father "love means more to me than this, you cannot choose whom I will love!"

His father had tried to come after him, to talk to him, but Raoul had rebuffed him. Now his father sat at his table. He had come for a reason.

Raoul steeled himself. Turning around he walked over and placed a hand on his father's shoulder gently shaking it. "Father, father, wake up." His father began to mumble, and started to blink as his eyes opened.

Raoul walked around taking the chair across from him. "Son…." His father said, trying to straighten himself to a sitting position. "So much to tell you…" Raoul glanced over at the stove. A small flame still flickered under the kettle that was on it. "Coffee?" Raoul said, pointing towards the cup on the table. His father nodded. Raoul took his cup, pouring out the old, filling it with the new, and pouring a hot dark cup for himself.

He walked back to the table, placing the cups down, sitting himself once more in the chair. "Son" his father began. "I've much to say, but let me begin by saying I am sorry. Sorry for not listening, for not accepting...her. That day in the study…" his father paused, "I knew that you loved her…she was beautiful, she was as sweet as I remembered her from her childhood." His father trailed off.

Shaking his head he continued. "Raoul, I regret you did not know your mother well. She was a beautiful woman, full of life, and in an odd way, much like Christine." Raoul turned his head towards his father, brow furrowed, question marking his face. "I know you were only ten when she passed, and had little time to really know the woman."

Raoul recalled his mother in his mind. Fair skin, blonde flowing hair, frail frame. She spent much of her time reading to him, in favor of more lively activities. He always knew his mother had not been well. Her death had nearly crushed his spirit when he was a child. Raoul looked at his father, begging in his eyes to know more. "Raoul, a good many years we kept a shameful secret from you and your sister. Though it pains me to tell you this now, I must. We shan't speak of it again, but you need to know why I've had a change of heart about your Christine. Your mother's family…." he swallowed hard, "they were not dead as we told you…told everyone…" Raoul was confused, why this ruse? "Father?"

The gentleman rose from the table, pained expression on his face. His graying temples bulged with grief. He walked clumsily to the window looking out, trying to regain his composure before he could continue. "Her family was alive" looking down now at the floor, raising his eyebrows, he continued "very much alive." He turned to face Raoul.

"She had three sisters, and two brothers. Her mother was a seamstress, her father a blacksmith." The reality of what his father was telling him, hit like a frigid gale force wind. "She had to leave them behind.." A sob ruptured from his father's chest. He raised both hands to his face, trying to control the emotions that were overtaking him. "My father…..my father…would only permit the marriage….only permit the marriage if she agreed to…" He slumped back into the chair, head in hands sobbing uncontrollably. "My father never minded my trysts with woman of nobility, he often encouraged it…but this, he would not allow…without a price."

Raoul slumped back in his chair, his chest heaving. Suddenly he understood everything. Though he hated him for the deception, he could understand. He reached out and grabbed his father's shoulder. He raised his head, "son, I didn't know what to do with you…with Christine. A family's shame had destroyed your mother…she was so lonesome for her family….I would hear her crying at night on the balcony. Though she would never tell me of it….I knew she missed them terribly. You never knew of your cousins, your grandparents….it killed her I know it."

Raoul's father reached out and grasped his son's hand. "I wanted to spare you and Christine….she would have had to leave everything she loved behind…a Comtess could not be employed as an opera singer…it would have been undignified, and you embarrassed by it."

Raoul pulled his hand away from his father, standing defiantly. "I never cared about that!" Raoul spun on his heels. "I loved her father, and I wouldn't have cared if she was a wash maid, I loved her!" His eyes now ablaze with uncontrollable fury.

"I am sorry son…sorry that it came to all of this." He stood, walking over to Raoul, resting his hand on his shoulder. "I will be here at first light to help with the search. I will do this for you my son. But, after a third days' search, if we find nothing, we will have to focus our attentions on rebuilding the Opera House….I will need you to help me." His father looked Raoul in the eyes, searching for confirmation. Raoul though angry and reticent, nodded in agreement.

His father lifted on his cloak, grabbed his hat, walking toward the back door. "Father?" Raoul called out. "Why did mother ever agree to such an arrangement? How could she…" "Leave her family behind?" His father said, finishing the question for him. "She said she loved me…wanted me for a lifetime…she chose me over them for the future we might have together. I loved her Raoul…I really loved her." Raoul's father's face wet with tears. He looked briefly into the mournful pain of his son's eyes, then turned and passed through the door into the blackness.

Raoul fell to his knees, there in the kitchen, he sprawled himself on the floor, being seized by fits of tears, for the gut wrenching truths that he had never known. His own mother had chosen the painful fate of leaving all behind for the man she loved…..is that what Christine had done? It was too much for his weary mind…too much. The decanter in the study beckoned him, and he, his resolve desperately weakened, obeyed.


	36. Planning

Chapter 36 Planning 

Madame Giry looked up at Erik. "It just might work…" Erik smiled at her "you'll agree then?" Madame Giry stood, "I think we should discuss it with Meg and Christine, but I don't see how they would disagree…it seems to be the only way." Erik nodded, "let us go to them." He stood, walking with Madame Giry to the door.

"Erik" she said before she opened the door "there is much to sacrifice here, we may never see our beloved Paris again…you would never be safe to come back here, and if Christine goes with you, she'll dare not return." Erik looked at her most seriously "do you not think that I have considered this, a hundred times thought of another way to give Christine a proper life…in this city she would be forever in hiding…never able to really live?" Madame Giry lowered her head, then looked back at him. Reaching for the door handle she said "then let us go, we have much to talk about." She led Erik from the room, down the long hall to the bedroom where Christine and Meg sat visiting.

"Shhh.." Christine eeked, looking at Meg. "It might be Sara" Meg said. The door opened slightly, Erik peeked his head in, "and just what have you two been talking about?" he said in a hushed voice, with a broad smile. Christine blushed, looking over at Meg. "I thought as much" Erik said stepping into the room, his hand behind him.

"Christine, there is someone who would very much like to see you" pulling his hand forward, he led Madame Giry into the room. Even though Christine knew she was there at the Inn with them, she was excited to see her none-the-less. She carefully darted into Madame Giry's welcoming arms, as a daughter would a mother. They embraced, both now having tears in their eyes. Meg smiled at Erik, something that even surprised her. He was family now, and she would grow to love him, letting her fears fade of the Phantom, and accepting him as Erik her "brother".

Soon Christine rejoined Meg on the bed, as they had been before. Madame Giry and Erik sitting on the end. Erik carefully, quietly explained all that he and Madame Giry had discussed. Meg and Christine looked at each other. Fear, excitement, but most of all hope danced in their eyes. "Could it work?" Christine said, her eyes darting between Erik, her husband, and Madame Giry her "mother".

Erik sighed, having now explained it twice. "I know of no other way for us to seek safe passage from the city. It will take a considerable amount of role-playing for us to make this charade believable, but I have no doubt we can accomplish this."

He was ill accustomed to having others in his plans. He was used to orchestrating things, but then he was in full control of all the elements. Now, he would have to trust in three women, all of whom he cared for, to be on their best behavior, doing exactly what he told them and when.

Madame Giry looked at Meg. "We must discuss this in private, but am I to assume now that you are willing to go along with this?" Meg barely waited for her mother to finish the question before she answered. "Mother, there is nothing for us here now. It will be many, many, months before the Opera House is repaired.." she felt a pang of guilt having said that in front of Erik. She glanced over at him, he was staring at the ground.

Meg continued. "I will have the most important people in the world with me, what more could I ask for." Christine reached over and grabbed Meg's hand, smiling profusely. Christine then reached out, pulling Erik's hand into hers. Meg taking her mother's hand in hers. Madame Giry extended her hand to Erik. He looked at it, then at each of the women sitting on the bed. Looking down at her hand again, he grasped it, saying "it is settled then." They squeezed their hands together, smiling at one another. Tomorrow was filled with promise…hope. Erik for the first time feeling like…he was part of a family.

**Captain Oblivious**: I must say that I rather look forward to your friendly banter. And it makes me happy, that it makes you happy, that they are happy… Ah, yes, my imagination…I found myself picturing the tweezers, and what sort of fabric it was…black silk no doubt. The part you forgot in your vivid description was the horrified look on your face as you fearfully searched his hands hoping not to find a lasso! Sweat beading on your brow…lips quivering as you cry out "don't hurt me, don't hurt me!" And yes, the lawn…the infernal grass…I suppose it grows….so mow it we must! Perhaps Erik could use a proficient gardener! Now if I am to continue in this vein, a question must be posed…would you be a threat to Christine, or a nuisance to Erik? If you are clever you may find a clue…reading between the lines! walks away, smirking

**Ethalas Tuath'an**: "Reunited and it feels so good, reunited because we understood…." Terribly sorry, it's a quote from a dreadfully old song…it just seems appropriate here! Raoul, oh yes, dear Raoul….fate has plans for him, I can assure you! To leave Paris or not to leave Paris…that is the question. Sorry, I've gone a little Shakespeare for a moment. Feeling rather giddy today, too many diet cokes I'm afraid. Oh, I'm afraid that my comments to your chpt 32 review did not appear with the last update. The question about Sara… It serves to make a point that Sara is faithful to her promises, that she is able to follow instructions without question. That may prove to be important later…how very observant of you! I gather from your "commanding" review, that you would like an update….your wish…is my command! I hope you enjoy them as much as I did!

**Glitter Queen of the Ice Show**: Thank you for the compliment. I hope that you stay with me as the story takes a few abrupt twists. I'm just a little bit ahead of postings so I can see into the future….and it's a bit scary!


	37. Morning after Mourning

Chapter 37 Morning after mourning 

First light found Raoul dressed, traveling bag packed, and his father at the door as promised. Raoul invited his father in for breakfast before they departed. The two ate quietly as most of the house still slept, except the cook, and the stableman. Once ready, horses properly fed and saddled, they left the house, mounted their steeds, galloping off towards the city. The crisp cold air giving rise to the frosty breath from both man and beast.

In half an hour's time, they were in front of the police office, where men had begun to gather. All had behaved pleasantly for Raoul the day previous, but a hushed reverence was obvious at the presence of the senior De Changy. He was known for his ruthlessness, and his power, none wanted to challenge it. He was fierce in all that he did. He supported what he believed in with great passion. That is why today, none were surprised to see him there.

"Good sir," the senior De Chagny called out to the officer in charge. "Are we ready to proceed?" He looked at his watch. "We shall give them until a quarter past, and then we will divide and conquer." The officer nodded. Several more men joined them until the group totaled twenty-five. Raoul's father pranced about on his horse impatiently, making the animal display his finest features through skillful jabs in his sides. Raoul rather despised the constant need his father had to show dominance…he was so unlike his father.

"We are ready." The officer signaled to the senior De Chagny. "Men, let me first thank you for your assistance yesterday with my son. This was a good first-course of action. Today, we will move backwards, starting with the perimeter of the city first, moving inward until we meet back here at 6:00 p.m. You will all be invited to join my family for dinner at the Starboard." The men looked at one another a bit bewildered. Only nobility or the very wealthy were permitted inside those doors. It gave them an added sense of urgency to do a thorough job for him today.

"Now, let us split into our assigned groups, where we might discuss details." They dismounted their horses, hitching them to posts and entered the cramped quarters of the police office to receive their assignments.

XXXXXX

Eric woke first, hearing movement in the streets. Morning light had not ventured around the thick curtains that still hung across the windows. He could smell freshly baking bread, and brewing coffee. It was an odd treat for him, and he savored it.

Christine lay in his arms, her leg casually draped across his knees, one arm above her head, the other wrapped loosely around his neck. How attached she had become in such a short while. He smiled to himself thinking that one day, this would seem common to him, an everyday occurrence. For now, he reveled in it.

Spending so many years alone, he never really looked forward to waking up in the morning, unless it was time for a lesson with Christine. He often slept late as he never retired early. He spent many nights just on the other side of the wall, or in the rafters above Christine's room, keeping a watchful eye over her. He sang to her when she cried, he whispered to her when she was afraid. Now she was at his side.

He gently caressed her cheek, brushing the brown curls away from her face. She looked angelic, and so comfortable that he hated to disturb her, but he knew he must. She had much powdering to do, and he much padding. He slipped from beneath her arm, resting both her leg and her hand on the bed.

He peeked out one corner of the curtain. He could see the men gathered in the streets, in groups of four. An officer looking down at a map pointing to each group with his arm, index finger extended. "They are starting on the edges of the city" Erik thought to himself "perfect.". The group was much smaller than he had anticipated, but it still concerned him that a third day of searching was underway. With no clues to work with, it was difficult to say why they continued to search in the city.

He turned around to see Christine stretching like a cat, yawning. She curled into a little ball and smiled at him, then began to giggle quietly. Erik could not take it…he returned to her side, scooping her up into his arms. She ran her arms up around his neck, and pushed him to his back. Playfully she climbed on top of his chest, kissing his neck, behind his ear, and finally placed a proper kiss on his lips. "Good morning my husband."

He smiled back at her, mumbling something inaudible under his breath. "Christine, why must you do this to me?" He said almost groaning and laughing at the same time. "Do what my love?" She said with a silly smirk on her face. Erik growled, grabbing Christine around the waist, rolling her to her back. "Christine, Christine, Christine…" Erik said her name in between each tender kiss, each one lasting a bit longer until their lips no longer parted. A warmth grew between them, each time changing into something more than lust, but rather into a song of love, of passion, of pent up emotions, of an indescribable ecstasy.

A gentle rap at the door startled them both, as they quickly pulled the sheets over their exposed flesh. "Dear Uncle, are you awake yet? Mother and I are preparing to go down for breakfast if you'd like to join us. It is a bit before seven, and I knew you'd be wanting to get an early start today." Meg paused, there was at first no response. She thought about knocking again, but then came a muffled "we'll be ready dear, you and your mother go ahead and go down." Meg smiled, the plan was already in place, now the real test would be the breakfast that awaited them in the rooms below.


	38. Breakfast and bare faces

Chapter 38 Breakfast and bare faces 

Sara smiled when she saw Meg and Madame Giry coming down the stairs. "Good morning to you mum, miss."

"Good morning Sara! I understand you've have met my uncle and his wife!" Sara turned abruptly, looking at Meg. "Yes, last night I saw the light under the door, and thinking we could help you by turning down the lamps, we came across them quite by accident." Meg found her place at the table.

"Spoiled the surprise…have they seen you?" Sara asked, looking a bit disappointed. "Why yes, we had a small chat last evening. Quite by accident really, mother went in to turn down the lamps and found them there! We are very much looking forward to visiting this morning over breakfast…it's been a long while since we've seen one another." Meg smiled at Sara, glancing over at her mother who was now sitting beside her.

Sara busied herself by setting several extra places at the table. "Sara, please join us for breakfast, we would…" Sara responded before Meg could finish. "Thank you so much for the invitation. However this morning I have to decline, as I have much to tend to, and I have to visit the market…the best hams are always gone too soon." Meg smiled back at Sara and nodded in acknowledgement. Madame Giry smiled. "This will make things so much easier" she thought to herself.

Sara crossed the floor, pouring coffee for Meg and Madame Giry. "Breakfast will be served as soon as your family comes down." Sara said, and then departed behind the door at the back of the kitchen.

"Mother, this will be.." Meg stopped, looking at her mother's finger placed rigidly over her lips. They sipped their coffee. "The weather looks fair outside today, the frost in the window is not as thick, perhaps it will be a bit warmer than yesterday. We might venture over to the Opera House again, to retrieve a few more things. Then, we will have to make arrangements for more permanent lodging, and of course find some sort of work to.."

Sara appeared from behind the door, "now remember, you may stay as long as you like. There are many fine positions for governesses, and I am sure there would be another ballet school that would be more than happy to employ such a fine ballet mistress." Sara smiled and then departed behind the door. Meg gave her mother a knowing look. Silence was golden, and the walls obviously had ears.

XXXXX

Erik leaned over, kissing Christine softly, caressing her face. "We must rise and prepare my dear, we have much to do." Christine groaned. "I think I should prefer to stay in this bed forever." Christine turned her head to stare sheepishly into Erik's eyes. They smiled at each other, Erik brushing a kiss on her shoulder as he began to rise.

The room was still dark, with just enough light for Christine to see the outline of Erik's frame as he rose and stretched to his full height. She had never before really gazed on such a sight, and it was something, she decided, she could definitely become accustomed to.

Christine slipped from beneath the sheets as well, putting on a thick robe, and walking toward the water closet. Oh how she longed for a hot bath, but this morning a sponge bath would have to do. The water felt good against her skin, the soaps and lotions refreshing her.

She ran her hands through her hair, wishing she would have time to wash it. She smiled as she looked at her face "at least the powder will stick more easily to the hair." She turned around, picking up the large domed case of powder. She began carefully layering it into her hair, pressing it down so that it would stick to the glossed curls. It took nearly half the container before Christine was satisfied. She shook her head gently, letting all the loose powder fall into the sink. Thankfully, the lack of sleep in recent days had allowed the dark circles to come out fully beneath her eyes. She tidied up the powder, not wanting any traces to be evident.

Once back in the bedchamber, she nearly laughed as she saw Erik, tucking a small pillow from the lounge into the back of his pants. "Yes, you my dear look positively ancient." He said to her, turning with a smirk on his face. "Why thank you my poor decrepit husband!"

They each set about dressing in as dowdy a manner as they could manage. Christine dusted a bit of powder through Erik's hair. He too could benefit from a hot bath she thought as the powder stuck well in his hair too. When they were completely dressed, the pair stood before the mirror, practicing the hunched look, leaning on their canes.

Christine smiled at Erik, whose face was half bandaged with strips of freshly torn cloth. Not much alternative. Going without the mask would have been as ghastly. "Erik?" Christine paused for a moment. "I have an idea. It might do well to help with your disguise."

She paused again, knowing fully he would find what she was about to say unnerving. Erik looked at her quizzically. "If we were to wrap the…the…other part of your cheek, leaving the other…." Erik stepped away from her.

"NO!" he thundered. Immediately feeling sorry that he had lashed out at her so. He turned back to her, in a much calmer, but still guarded tone, "Christine, no, I cannot, Meg and Madame Giry… they have never….you have accepted me, but how…." Christine interrupted. "My dear I am sorry, but it seems this would give wandering eyes less to think of, and they may look away out of respect without really studying you, or us."

Erik walked over to the bed, dropping down on its edge. He felt like he'd been scorched by a searing flame….the brutal honesty with which she spoke…knew she was right. He had spent his entire life shamed by that side of his face. He'd been forced into hiding because of it, rejected by his own mother because of it, scorned, mocked, beaten because of the wickedness of it. What irony he thought, the one thing that had nearly destroyed his life, might now be his only hope in saving it.

Erik stood, walking back to Christine resolutely. "Very well" he said. Christine began unwrapping the bandages, careful not to disturb too much of the powder in his hair. She reached down and tenderly kissed his rough cheek before beginning to wrap the smooth side. "In my heart you are the most handsome man I have ever known, and no flesh perfect or flawed will ever change that" she whispered in his ear as she tucked the last of the cloth under the folds.

Erik stood, glancing briefly in the mirror. He had never beheld just the flawed side alone. Even he averted his eyes in shame. "It will work, as it even frightens me." He said to Christine as he turned away from the mirror in disgust. .

"Today we begin as the elder Mr. and Mrs. Courtland, Madame Giry's uncle and aunt. You shall address me as planned." Erik looked quite seriously at Christine. "And, this is important, none of your damned flirting Mrs. Courtland. It would be most unusual for a man of my age to become, well, let's just say it would make it much more difficult to stay in character."

Christine smiled back at him, putting her cloak up over her curls. "Dear husband, dear Stephan, I will be on my best elderly behavior." Erik smiled back at her, "thank you my dear Elizabeth." They walked, no, hobbled toward the door, each trying to act more decrepit than the other.

XXXXX

Raoul, his assignment in hand, his company at his flank, moved away from the station. Thinking quickly he held up his hand, bringing the small contingent to a halt. "I must pay one brief visit to a shopkeeper before we are on our way. It will take but a moment.

He dismounted his horse in front of the café. Opening the heavy door, he noticed several older men hunched over a table playing cards. The shopkeeper, had his back towards him said, "what may I be getting ya?" He turned seeing Raoul, straightening himself.

"Good day sir….I see that you've come for your bread. It will be just a moment." Raoul looked curiously at the man, realizing in an instant that he was playing a game, and Raoul was obliged to play along.

"Here you go sir, he said, handing him a warm loaf of French bread, and a small package of slivered meats." Raoul thanked him, his eyes trying to find any indication of the information he sought.

The shopkeeper glanced over at his friends sitting around the table, fixed on their game. "No sir, nothing seemed disturbed round here, just the same sir." He said shaking his head. Raoul looked down, a bit disappointed. "Thank you sir." Raoul replied. "I'll be here on the morrow to settle my account."

Raoul turned making his way out the door. His curiosity getting the best of him, he walked around to the back of the shop. It was there as the man had told him. A bag, two loaves of French bread peering out of it, sat perched against the back wall. Raoul sighed in disappointedly. Surely had he survived he would have needed food, if not for himself then for Christine… He couldn't think about that right now, there was work to be done. Finding her safely was his only goal today, and he would let nothing distract him.

XXXXXX

Erik had stopped near the narrow paned window at the turn of the staircase. He stood absolutely still, Christine thinking he was playing the role just a bit too much. "Dear Stephan, why ever do you tarry?" Erik had been holding his breath, letting it out now with a great sigh. He had watched Raoul enter the shop not three doors down, and then watched him walk around to the back door and look at the bag of bread leaning on the wall. "Clever boy" he said under his breath. "What did you say dear? You are tired? I could bring your breakfast to you if you wish?" Erik shook his head no, putting his arm through Christine's continuing down the stairs.

Sara stood a bit impatiently, wanting to greet all of her guests before scampering off to the market. All the food now displayed on the table, cups of coffee cooling. Sara called out to them, "good morning sir, mum….breakfast is ready for you. I understand that you visited briefly last night, so no introductions are necessary." Sara felt awkward as she spoke. "I've a full pot of coffee on the stove….I regret that I must run to the market. Please leave your dishes on the table, I will retrieve them when I return." Sara grabbed her cloak, and departed through the back kitchen door, glancing back at Erik.

Erik and Christine proceeded no less cautiously, continuing to stay in character lest any roaming eyes peer in at them. They joined Madame Giry, and Meg, who was smirking from ear to ear, at the table. "My dear uncle, I trust you slept well. It was a surprise seeing you last evening. It is unfortunate that your visit should come on the heels of such a tragedy, fate has an odd way of bringing things together," Madame Giry posturing herself, said, nodding towards Erik.

A low gravely voice came from beneath the cloak where Erik hid his face. He first coughed, adding another layer to his charade. "I must confess this chill has not been good for my lungs." His wife "Elizabeth" patting him on the back said "it has been dreadful, although the warmth of your company comforts him."

Meg had not taken her eyes off of Erik's face. She knew a disguise was necessary, but wondered if Erik felt naked being so exposed. Erik's eyes hung low, shame filling him, oozing out of every orifice. He had flash backs to the night when Christine had unmasked him for the first time, exposing the hideousness of his face. That night had been far more painful than anything….seeing the horror in her eyes, watching the adoration change to fright. Now, Meg's eyes pierced him, and he felt as if his flesh were on fire.

He wanted to draw his hand up, cover it, pull off the cloths, push on his mask and be himself again….the menacing Phantom….that was his comfort, that was his strength. He fought the urge, rather lowering his head further still toward his steaming cup.

Madame Giry sensed the discomfort in Erik's down turned face, nudging Meg under the table. Meg quickly looked at her mother, pulling herself out of her daze, apologizing. "I am terribly sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to….does it cause you great pain?"

Christine and Madame Giry looked at Meg in sheer horror at the blatant question she posed. Perhaps they were both more keenly aware of how fragile Erik could be sometimes, both knowing of his rage.

Meg in her naivety had asked the question innocently, Erik sensed that. His low voice, somewhat strained, replied "no more than the skin you were born with hurts you." Meg lowered her head, shame pushing a heavy blush across her face. "How stupid of me, it was no injury that did this to him, he was born that way" Meg thought to herself.

Sara came back in through the back door, puffing loudly. "I'd forget my head if it wasn't attached!" she exclaimed, grabbing her shopping basket, and exiting the door she had just barged through.

"We must always be in character," Erik murmured "for we never really know who might be listening." He glanced around the table, the unpleasantries of the previous moments now forgotten.

"We may have but these few brief moments to discuss what we are to do." Erik sat a bit more crouched the others leaning in to hear his whispers. "We will finish with our breakfast, Elizabeth and I will retire to our room for a mid-morning nap. Madame Giry, you and Meg shall return to the Opera Populaire, and inform your employers that your uncle and aunt have come for a visit, but having heard of your misfortune, and will be taking you and Meg on with them to their home for a month's time or more, until you are able to return to your position, and Meg to her place in the chorus. They will no doubt offer to provide lodging for you until such time that they can repair the dormitories and studio for you. You will gratefully decline, saying that you and Meg would do well to take in the country in the Spring before returning, the present situation being too painful to manage. Sara will no doubt be back by that time, preparing lunch for us. We shall all eat with her, I will retire early, not feeling well. I will go to my room, but slip out to secure a carriage for us. When I return, it will be nearly the dinner hour, and we shall enjoy dinner with our innkeeper. Christine and I shall again retire early, as an elder couple would do. Madame Giry, you and Meg will proceed with Sara as you have in the nights previous, playing games or chatting, until it is half past eight. You and Meg will come to our room when Sara has retired for the night. We shall talk further. It is most important that everything appears to be proceeding as it would in light of the circumstances. At some point today, the guards will come to search the inn. Meg, you will be waiting for them in the dining room, having sat with Sara all afternoon chatting. When they come, you will not say anything unless Sara tells them of your aunt and uncle resting upstairs. Then, and only then will you offer that they had planned to come for a visit. Offer nothing more unless you are pressed for information. Perhaps they will not be interested as many families have come and gone from the city to retrieve relatives since the…fire."

Erik looked somberly at the three who were fixed on his every word. "I am sorry, Madame Giry, Meg, that you must see me as you do now. Meg, I know of your tender heart, and pray that this will not cause you undue distress."

Meg looked down. "I too am sorry, I was very forward, I apologize for my rudeness." Erik shot her a brief smile. "These are extraordinary times, we shan't worry about such trivialities. Now, we must always be addressed by the proper names. If you should slip, try not to be flustered, rather explain to anyone overhearing that is simply our middle name, or pet name, and move on. Do not look conspicuous. Channel the fear and sorrows that you have experienced, remaining in that mode until such time as we can relax and be safe. We must be diligent if we are to succeed."

"Stephan," Madame Giry ventured, "where will we end, where will we find safe haven?" Erik looked down for a moment before answering. "It will be a long distance I'm afraid, and I prefer not to say, lest we become separated and it becomes difficult to maintain one's confidences."

Meg blurted "you aren't even going to tell us where we are going?" At once she felt out of place for having interrupted. "Best to stay close and follow instructions carefully. Plans may change along the way, subject to what we find at each stop. Stay close, pay attention, and try not to be or look afraid. You are simply weary travelers, nothing more." With that Erik stopped speaking and began to eat his breakfast.

Almost on cue, Sara burst through the door, arms burgeoning from her morning trip to the market. Meg got up and rushed to her aide, "let me help you with that" she said scooping up one basket from Sara's arms. "I hope that you found the breakfast to your liking? Sara said glancing around at the guests surrounding the table. Erik began to cough, Christine trying to comfort him.

"I'm afraid my dear Stephan must retire for a nap. I have some salve to apply for his cough, he will need his rest. "Let me help you uncle" Madame Giry said as she rose to help him from the chair and toward the stairs.

"I shall come back down to fetch the rest of my breakfast she said as she helped Stephan and Elizabeth back to their room.

"Sad thing really….getting old is." Sara muttered to Meg as she helped her unpack her purchases. "I know, he has never been well as long as I can remember." Meg and Sara wandered off into conversation about Sara's uncles, and soon fits of laughter filled the room as Sara told stories of long beards and chewing tobacco.


	39. Just Breathe

Chapter 39 Just Breathe 

Raoul's group was assigned the Southern most corner of the city. A wide-open area, with farm houses, several stables, and many places offering opportunity for hiding. One by one, each barn, each house, each grain store, each milk-house, each carriage house, was scoured, nothing left unturned. Some of the residents being much agitated by having their properties searched a second day in a row. Raoul tried to calm them and assure them it was for their own safety, and for the safety of France itself that they were being so thorough. Perhaps it was his polished demeanor, his handsome good looks, or the crest on his jacket that soothed them, irregardless all comply to his requests.

Several other groups were charged with searching every handsome, with every carriage house, and any other form of transportation that might leave the city. Paris had been bustling, many coming in curiosity to look at the Opera House, and others leaving to find refuge with family until their employment returned. So many people had been employed by the Opera Populaire, now most were without work. Many names were taken, carriage operators interviewed. Now there was much to share, but most seemed legitimate, and some had yet to return.

Raoul's father had elected to wander about the city, peeking into many shops, and inns himself. He chatted with the locals, the innkeepers, the butchers and bakers. At last he found himself in front of Sara's inn. He opened the door, walking inside standing next to the small counter in front. The warmth felt good on his pink cheeks, and the smell of a dinner obviously in progress teased his nose. Sara came around from behind the door in the kitchen.

"Can I help you sir? I'm sorry that my inn is full until the end of the week sir, may I offer you the name of several other…" Raoul's father interrupted. "No, no, thank you. I'm not looking for lodging just now, that won't be necessary." He took off his hat inviting himself in looking about the dining room. Sara felt a bit uncomfortable, thinking the man might be wanting a meal. "Sir, the café three doors down has a wonderful lunch…" once again he cut Sara off mid-sentence. "I'm not looking for a meal, fine lady, I'm just chatting about with the innkeepers." He rested his hat on the table, both hands resting in front of him.

"No doubt you know of the tragedy that has befallen our great Opera Populaire." The man said, still roaming the room with inquisitive eyes. "As Patron of the Opera House, I've taken it upon myself to assist with the search for those responsible for such affairs."

"Oh, I see," Sara said, joining him at once at the table. She now realizing that this was Monsieur De Chagny who graced her inn this chilly morning. "I'd most like to be of service to you sir. The Opera House was of great interest to me, as many of my lodgers frequently were here to attend the opera."

Monsieur De Chagny smiled at her, knowing she was duly impressed, and that she would be most compliant. "Do tell me," he began, "have you had many guests in recent days?"

Sara smiled. "No, truth be told, one family has had my inn reserved for the week. Perhaps you know the ballet mistress from the Opera House, Madame Giry?" Sara said, trying to employ her most proper tone.

"Why yes, that name is familiar to me as she is on my payroll." De Chagny replied.

"Well, as fate would have it her aunt and uncle had been planning a surprise visit for the Saturday of the opera, hoping to see Meg and Christine performing."

De Chagny bristled a bit at the mention of Christine's name. "Really?" He said.

"As it turned out, they arrived just after the event, apparently so many hansoms had been employed that they were not able to find a carriage into the city until after the fire." Sara looked down, "perhaps it was best they had missed it, her uncle's lungs are not well, he'd not have tolerated all the smoke."

"Hmmm, I see." He said thoughtfully. "Are they here with you now?" He inquired.

"Yes, they are, but they have retired to their room for a rest before lunch." Sara replied.

"You said family, are there others?"

"Well, the others are Meg and Madame Giry of course, seeing as they had no other place to stay." Sara said, standing up to tend a pot that was beginning to boil over.

"They have been staying here with you?" He called out.

"Yes, they've been here since the night it happened." Suddenly Sara had an odd feeling that she was sharing more than she needed to, but where the feelings came from that were tugging at her, she did not know. For whatever reason now, she decided to omit some details from what she would tell him. "Yes, as luck would have it, my inn was empty that night, and I saw them in the street, freezing cold they were. I invited them in, knowing they'd need lodging for the night. In fact I've told them to stay as long as they liked, until they could make other arrangements." Sara said, returning to the table.

"I see. So how is it that one family ended up here together, doesn't it seem a bit odd to you?" he asked, trying to rattle her for information.

Sara, without a flinch responded, "I'm in no position to question fate sir. I find it no more odd than having you, the Opera House patron sitting at my dinner table now. Some things just happen because they do."

He chuckled to himself, realizing he had irritated her a bit, and that she had nothing more to offer him. Rising from the table he said "I'm sorry to have interrupted your meal preparations. Should you notice anything strange, anything out of the ordinary, please see to it that you contact my officers." With that he put on his hat and exited the door.

Behind the door in the kitchen, Meg breathed in a deep sigh of relief, a silent prayer had been answered. She put on as calm a face as she could manage, and walked out into the kitchen by Sara. "What on earth did he want…he wasn't looking for my mother was he…she is already at the Opera Populaire, he could have found her there if he had questions about the fire." Meg said, busying herself with setting the table.

"No, he was asking questions about my guests." Sara reached over and put a gentle hand under Meg's chin. Meg swallowed. "He was very cold to my mother when his family first came to the Opera House. He finds woman very trivial, more objects than people. He treated my mother not as a ballet mistress should have been, but more as a subject to be dominated. I've not preferred his company ever since."

Sara gave Meg a reassuring glance. "Not to worry my dear, he has graced our door but once, next time he'll not have such a warm reception." Meg smiled back at Sara politely "thank you" she replied.

"Now, how many of the sweet potatoes would you like me to peel for you." Sara smiled at her, realizing protesting was of no use "Ten I should think, they are small." Meg smiled, collecting that number in her apron, taking them to the basin to be washed.

XXXXX

Madame Giry had found her way to Mr. Firmin's office. They too were unharmed, but reeked of the burned remains that lay just beyond the doors. A cleaning woman, one of the few employees still working, busied herself wiping down each item, removing soot and film from it. The air was heavy with boiled water and hot vinegar.

Mr. Firmin's back turned to the door, barely heard Madame Giry knocking. "Sir, there is someone here to see you," the cleaning woman finally offered. "Oh, do pardon me…..come in…do come in." His friendly demeanor welcoming his first visitor in days.

"Madame Giry, I'm a bit surprised to see you here…none of your students are able.." "Thank you sir, I am well aware that all of my charges have been taken in by families as temporary governesses, or their families have come to retrieve them." She smiled politely as she sat in the chair across from his desk. "It is in fact that very reason that brings me here today."

"Oh, I see, you are most welcome, you and your daughter to stay in your dorms if.." Madame Giry interrupted. "It is a comfort that you are willing to offer us lodging. However, my aunt and uncle have come for a visit, and upon hearing of our situation, have offered to bring us to their home for the next month or so until things can be sorted out here. An Opera House without students has little use for a ballet mistress. I shall leave word with your office as to our location so that when you are ready, you could call for my return if that is your wish."

Mr. Firmin looked somewhat relieved. He did not have to offer her a place to stay, decidedly less expensive. "And your salary…we shall compensate you for your time away…with the guarantee of your promise to return when we are ready." Madame Giry nodded. "That would be most appreciated, as I do not want to be an undue burden to my uncle."

"When will you be traveling?" Mr. Firmin said as he stood walking behind a small wall in his office, collecting items from a box. "We shall leave by week's end if we are able. My uncle's health is not doing well in this cold damp air, I'm afraid his cough grows worse with each day he stays." Madame Giry hated this feeling. She was unaccustomed to being untruthful, but there was no alternative now.

"This should see you through for the next six weeks." Mr. Firmin said handing Madame Giry a small envelope. "You and I have not spent much time together, it is my regret." He said smiling at her. "I am a businessman, and know full well that an Opera House is dependant on fine talent, but also on the strength of those we employ to train our talent. Your reputation as an excellent ballet mistress has been well founded. We trust that you will return to us when we are ready. The Opera Populaire, and your charges, would not be the same without you here." Mr. Fermin took Madame Giry's hand in his, kissing it graciously.

Madame Giry rose, blushing. "Thank you for your kind words. I too shall miss this place, and look forward to returning when all is ready." Madame Giry left quickly, emotions catching in her chest. She knew she would never grace the inside of those walls again. Her life was forever altered now, no turning back. She had changed Erik's life by bringing him into her home years ago, now he was changing hers…and what home he was taking her to she did not know.

Madame Giry was outside now, gasping for breath in the chill of the noon air. She looked across the street at the door of the inn, curiously at the figure that now was walking away from the door just shut. Her hand immediately rose to her chest, a small gasp emitting from her throat. "What is he doing there?" Her eyes quickly darting around to see if he was summoning police. She watched as he casually strode toward her, crossing the street.

Before she could think what to say, he was in front of her. "Good day to you Madame Giry." He said, tipping his hat. "Good day to you sir Monsieur De Chagny."

"I've just been visiting with your innkeeper. Humorous woman. She told me of your aunt and uncle…how fortunate that they have come to town for a visit."

Madame Giry, mustering every bit of poise she possessed replied "why yes it is. I was most pleased to see them. They often come for a visit in the Spring to see Meg perform."

De Chagny was searching her face for any bit of unease, finding none, he continued. "I see you've come from the Opera House, I trust you found Mr. Firmin." She nodded. "I've asked him to see that the needs of certain employees would be taken care of until we are able to reopen the doors. Did he discuss this with you?"

Madame Giry nodded again. "Then it is settled, you and your lovely daughter, Meg isn't it?" He inquired. Madame Giry nodded. "Shall be able to remain at the Opera House. We will make whatever accommodations necessary to make you comfortable given the present circumstances."

"Good sir, that will not be necessary." Madame Giry said. Monsieur De Chagny looked most indignantly at her. "You must have some place to stay, surely you cannot afford to lodge at the inn.."

Madame Giry interrupted. "My uncle has offered to take Meg and I to their home in the country for a month or so until affairs have been put in order here. They have room, and would enjoy the company. Truthfully my uncle is not well, and I think my aunt would appreciate having someone to help her for awhile."

"I see. So when would you depart?" He asked.

"Near the end of the week I should think, this cold air has been terrible for his lungs, and I'm certain that he would rather not tarry any longer than necessary." Madame Giry said.

"And, your intentions to return?" He asked.

"Yes, when we are ready to begin training again, and the dorms are repaired." She said. He nodded in acknowledgement.

"Very well then. Mr. Firmin gave you your salary did he not?" He asked.

"Yes, and thank you. It does my heart much favor to be appreciated in this way. Your kindness is overwhelming." She nearly choked on her own words.

"You are most welcome. Good day to you Madame." He turned abruptly and continued his walk to the front doors of the Opera House.

Madame Giry breathed a sigh of relief. So far, things were going as planned. She could hardly wait to find out about the visit De Chagny had paid to their inn. She trusted that Meg would remember every detail.

XXXX

Upstairs, Erik paced the floor. He had been listening to the muffled conversations in the rooms below, only making out bits and pieces of it. He was at once relieved when he heard the door close, and no one rushing in. As he saw De Chagny disappear into the Opera House, and Madame Giry walk back at a leisurely pace, he breathed a sigh of relief and retired to a chair, sweat beading on his brow. He loosened his cravat.

Christine was just returning from her bath. She had thankfully missed the entire incident. He would tell her, but not now. "Oh, how wonderful I feel" she said wiggling about under her robe. She saw the look on Erik's face and immediately went to him, kneeling before him, taking his hands into hers. "Whatever is it….you look like you've seen a ghost."

Erik sighed, looking at her he said "I'm just thinking of what we need to do soon. Much depends on all of us acting in unison, keeping our guards up, and watching our speech and gesture."

She smiled up at him. "I know," she said reassuringly.

"Christine, these last few days have been like heaven to me" he began. "I've never known such happiness, and if my life were to end tomorrow, I would leave this world having known…true love."

Christine looked up, a worried look on her face. "Don't talk like that Erik, it frightens me." She said.

"I have no intentions of leaving you my dear, I wanted simply for you to know. The coming days will not afford us much privacy, indeed, we will likely share small rooms, tight carriages, and the like."

Christine knew what he was saying to her. "I understand my dear husband. I have much enjoyed our closeness, indeed it has been a happiness I have never known." Erik smiled at her with his smoldering eyes. She was his, he was hers, they shared this with each other alone.

"I shall long for your touch, in the darkness of the night, yet I understand our honeymoon will be cut short due to our travel arrangements." She looked down resting her chin on his knee, protruding her lower lip just slightly, then batting her eyes back up at him.

Erik pulled her up into his arms, kissing her neck, and then burying his head into her plentiful mounds of still damp curls, inhaling deeply. "I promise to make this up to you, once we are safe. We shall not have to deny ourselves then, not ever again after that." He breathed into her ear.

Christine pressed her lips against his, gently removing the loose bandages from his cheek. She ran her fingers through his hair, bringing her hands down to both sides of his face, cupping it into her hands. Erik looked pleadingly into her eyes muttering with his now parted lips "we have much to do Chri…"

She seized him in an intense kiss, pushing his head back against the chair. Her hands slipping down to untie her robe, pushing it from her shoulders. Erik gasped "Christine why do you…" he trailed off as he took her into his arms responding to the passion he saw in her eyes. He rose, Christine in his arms, robe dropping to the floor. She leaning into him all the more. The bed was too far, and he was too far gone. Some day he would be able to control himself, but that day was not today.


	40. Appetite

Chapter 40 Appetite 

Madame Giry, Sara, and Meg had finished their lunch. A bit bewildered by their aunt and uncle's absence. Madame Giry was certain that Erik was deliberate in his dealings and if something detained him, she would not question it.

Sara seemed a bit disappointed not to have been able to visit with her new company, she wished to hear of their travels, and to learn more about the part of the Country they were from. That was her favorite part of being an innkeeper….learning all about the world she would never see.

"I'll wrap a plate for them, perhaps they'd like a late lunch. I regret I must be out again this afternoon, I've an old friend that I tend to since her husband passed on. She doesn't get out much, and relies on several ladies from the church for her necessities." Sara politely excusing herself from the table. "Sit as long as you like, there's a bit more coffee on the stove if you're interested." She touched the pot as she went past to make sure it was still hot. She disappeared into the back of the kitchen to prepare three plates, one for her friend, and the other two for Stephan and Elizabeth.

XXXXX

Raoul's contingent had stopped in a large grove of pines, an odd opening nearly like a natural cathedral, tree limbs bent and intertwined, providing a large umbrella and shelter from the chilling winds. The men dismounted, opening their lunches, munching on breads and bits of dried meats. A few had brought their whiskey although none touched it, preferring the slightly warm liquids of the soups that had been buried in the depth of saddle pouches under blankets. The horses were munching on small bags of oats that had been brought for them. Raoul, preferring his own company to making small talk, walked just beyond the trees to a clearing. From there he could see the graveyard at the outskirts of the City.

A silent shudder coursed through his spine. "If only she had let me end him that day…it would never have come to this." He shook his head. "Why must those thoughts torment him now? Would he ever find peace if he never found her?" He lifted the loaf of bread to his lips, biting off a large chunk. He wasn't hungry, but knew he must eat.

Standing alone for a few minutes, exposed flesh feeling the bite of the wind, he turned to go back into the shelter of the trees. He stumbled and fell to the ground, his foot having caught on a protruding rock. Raoul rose, grumbling at his own clumsiness. "Odd clump of rocks in the middle of the woods" he thought to himself. Dismissing it, he joined the huddle that was warming their hands around a small fire that had been started in a pail.

……..Erik had been careful to secure the stone from the inside when last he moved it, "for one never knows who might happen upon it" he thought to himself as he turned to face his new bride that night.


	41. Beyond Words

Chapter 41 Beyond Words 

Erik gently stroked Christine's back. He lay partly leaning against the chase he had been sitting on earlier, Christine laying across his chest running her hand lazily up and down his stomach, heavy blanket pulled across her midsection.

He had always known he could love her without reservation. What surprised him, every time they were together now, was how she loved him without hesitation. In nearly all their encounters since their wedding night, Christine had been the aggressor. Not that Erik minded, in fact in a strange way it made it that much sweeter.

He was tender with her, and she with him. A man his age would normally have had much experience, having been married for many years. But having never been, he felt almost as an inexperienced adolescent husband. Somewhere in the midst of their new journey together, they were finding a passion he imagined could not be matched by any other. For that which is saved, cherished, kept…is more precious than anything.

Christine pulled herself up to Erik's shoulder, nestling in by his neck, kissing it tenderly. "I am sorry about lunch" she whispered. Erik looked down smiling and giving her a gentle hug and kiss on the forehead. "I am not sorry about missing it" he said with a smile. His response made Christine wriggle beneath his arms. She put both her arms around his mid section squeezing him as hard as she could, her fingers gently brushing each side of his waist. Erik shivered, and let out a little laugh. She was so playful, almost like a kitten with a tangle of yarn.

Erik grabbed her about the waist, turning her forcefully to her back, pulling the blanket over both of their heads. From beneath the blankets all that could be heard was muffled laughter. They enjoyed their last brief moments of solitude before they began their travels. They had consummated their marriage, now they were forging their bond.

XXXXX

Madame Giry and Meg finished the last of their coffee, collecting their dishes retreated to the kitchen to wash them. Having observed Sara through the window as she walked down the street, Madame Giry felt it safe to talk.

"Now Meg, let us finish these quickly and go to check on Christine. Erik has no doubt left by now to make arrangements for the hansom." Meg nodded.

"Mother, are you happy? Happy that they are married?" Meg said, looking at her mother as the steam rose to greet her from the wash water.

"Meg, happy is not a word I would use in this case." She paused, looking at Meg. "I always knew that they would end up together, it was fated. At first, I thought he loved her as a daughter, a sister….but as time went on I could sense he felt much more for her."

Meg looked at her mother "did he ever tell you?" Madame Giry looked at her daughter with surprise. "Erik is a man of few words, his intentions are seen in his actions, his gestures, far more than what he says. Erik never used the word love…it brought too much pain to him…too many memories of a world he never knew." Madame Giry was looking off in the distance.

"Mother," Meg said taking another plate from her mother's hands, drying it, "how ever did he turn into the Phantom from the young boy he had been?" Madame Giry stopped, dried her hands, and put both of them on Meg's shoulders. "My dear, that would take me a lifetime to tell you…it happened one little bit at a time….just as you grew….he grew….your world was filled with love…his with pain…yours with acceptance…his with rejection…." She reached up and touched Meg's face "you were perfect….he was…" Madame Giry stopped, looking over Meg's shoulder, she sucked in her breath. There standing behind Meg was Erik. Neither woman having heard him come down the stairs.

Erik said nothing, he nodded and walked over to the two covered plates on the counter. Layering them, he grabbed two cups and what was left of the pot of coffee from the stove. He walked slowly, hunched ever so slightly back to the stairs, disappearing as quietly as he had appeared.

Meg and Madame Giry watched as he disappeared. "Mother, I am sorry." Meg hung her head slightly. "I will be more careful to mind my questions. Someday I am sure that all will be explained…..or I'll learn to forget the past, perhaps the latter being preferable." Madame Giry gave an understanding look to her daughter. "Questions are alright my dear, it is just the time and place that needs careful choosing." With that the two finished the dishes, putting everything back in its proper place.

Madame Giry sat down at the table once more, Meg joining her. "We should probably pack, perhaps making one last trip over to the Opera House to collect some of our things." She turned to Meg. "It will be important for us to stay together, keeping the same story, making our plan unified." Meg nodded.

"Take only what you must, leaving other things behind so as to indicate our future return." "But Mother, we shan't…" Madame Giry gave Meg a look that made her thoughts plain. "I understand" Meg complied. The two rose from the table, walking arm in arm toward the stairs. They were full, warm, and a small bit of peace settled over them as they knew those they cared most about were waiting at the top of those stairs.

XXXX

Erik entered the room to find Christine packing. He smiled at her as he carried their lunch over to the table. He uncovered the plates and poured the coffee, as she was putting the last of her items into the bag.

Christine now joined him at the table. The two were beyond words. They held hands raising silent prayers to the heavens. They enjoyed their lunch in near silence, wanting to savor their last minutes alone together.

Author's Notes:

Sorry for the brief interlude…I was out of town for a wedding this weekend. I'm glad to see a few of you have had time to review the chapters I'd posted before I left!

**Captain Oblivious**: A worthy opponent of wit? I assume Rosario is in reference to someone of strong WILL and infinite GRACE? Yes, a nuisance…not really the answer I was striving to elicit, but I think I've read between your lines! Yes, they are a family of sorts….for what is family if not those we love being close to us. But I am afraid that nature is about balance…for what is pleasure without pain….love without loss…? To fully embrace and appreciate one, you've need to taste the other.

**Angelheart13**: Welcome to the story! I hope you enjoy the coming updates.

**Diveprincess:** Thank you for the "add" to your favorites. I hope you'll follow it through to the end! As they say… "all good things come to those who wait!

**Ethalas Tuathan**: You are clever, and ask such good questions…are you sure your name isn't Sherlock? However…it was curiosity that killed the cat…but in your case…I'll make an exception! I hope you enjoy the next chapters!

**Glitter Queen**: Yes, I seem to be fixed on this subject a bit…however, they are newlyweds…and as you can see passionate newlyweds. To give them anything less than what would happen if they were living and breathing creatures, would seem to cheat the beauty of the love story. I'm not into graphics, but I am do have a fatal flaw in all things romantic…and nothing is as romantic as a fated love that is now blooming into a passionate merger of two souls…there I go again…getting all mushy! I hope you enjoy the next chapters!


	42. The Long Visit

Chapter 42 The long visit, moonlit roof 

Raoul rode back into town, it was nearly three o'clock, and his group was the first to return, their section having been smaller than most. He saw his father walking out of a shop so he dismounted his horse, walking over to him he said "any news?"

His father reached out, shaking his hand in formal fashion. "Have you found anything?" Raoul searched his father' always stoic face for some indication. "Son, I've not found your Christine, but I did manage to find her friend, Meg is it?"

Raoul felt instantly ashamed. He had been so fixed on finding Christine that he'd not given much thought to Meg's whereabouts.

"She is staying with her ballet mistress mother at the inn over there." The elder De Chagny pointed toward Sara's inn. "They are indeed fortunate…Madame Giry's uncle has come to retrieve them" he said.

"Retrieve them? They are leaving the Opera House….Paris?" Raoul looked strained now. He'd lost Christine, and now her trusted friend…his trusted friend.

"Yes they are traveling to the country until the Opera House is repaired. They'll be leaving at the end of the week."

"She'll not soon forgive me…" Raoul trailed off. He looked down at the ground. His thoughts were so consumed by Christine that he had devoted little room to the horrors or losses that others were suffering.

"Who'll not forgive you?" his father asked. Forgiveness, nay, apology was unfashionable, and certainly beneath a Vicomte. Any social faux pas that had been made would certainly be forgiven without the formality of apology, given the circumstances.

"Let us have some tea father, Raoul now pointing toward the café he'd frequented several times in the past days. The two men walked toward the café, pushing open the heavy wood door. They were greeted with warm hellos from the bevy of men who were inside.

XXXXX

Meg and Madame Giry were dressed, empty bags in hand. Madame Giry having left a note under Erik's door… "My dear Stephan: Meg and I have gone to collect some of our things. We will be back before the dinner hour. Love your niece"

They strode out of the Inn, making their way to the Opera House.

XXXX

Raoul sat down with his father in the far corner at a table only large enough for two. The owner brought over two fresh cups of tea, and a few scones. Placing them down without a word, sensing the men had something serious to discuss.

Raoul began "the night of the fire, Christine begged me not to make her do it. Meg begged me on behalf of Christine, but I assured them both that everything was prepared and that were absolutely certain of success." Raoul seemed to be far away now, having seemingly traveled back in time, the gleam of the raging fires nearly apparent in his eyes. "Meg was Christine's confidante, nearly a sister to her….she must be heart broken….in my grief….I had forgotten that she would be suffering also." Raoul's eyes wet with tears that threatened to spill over.

"Then go talk to her. She was there preparing for dinner when I was there not long ago. Find out where she is going, and perhaps you can deliver the news to her yourself should you find Christine." He sat the cup back in its saucer, reaching for a scone.

Raoul's eyes shown the first twinkle in days, a smile crossing his face briefly. "What a good idea Father!" he exclaimed. Raoul sipped the last of his tea, rising to go. "I'll take care of this" his father said. "You go. It will soon be time to meet all the men back at the police office, I will see you then."

Raoul put his cloak around his shoulders, fastening it beneath his chin. "I'll see you then sir." Raoul nodded his head in polite gesture, not having donned a hat to tip. His father nodded in acknowledgement. Raoul turned back and said "walk with me?" His father welcomed the invitation, as he rose and joined him. They walked toward the door, the senior De Chagny leaving a small pile of coins on the counter for the owner. Then exiting the building with his son at his side.

"Twice the cost" the café owner said, smiling as he picked up the pile of silver coins. He shan't tire of guests like this. Perhaps he would see much more of them in the coming months as the repair work began.

XXXXXXX

Knowing they were completely alone now, Christine walked about freely. "I'll take the dishes to the kitchen before Sara returns" she said, moving toward the door. "Be always on your guard my dear…always." Erik said, talking seriously. "I will" Christine replied.

She carefully moved down the staircase, feeling light as a feather on the wings of love, but having to be deliberate and slow in her movements, it was sheer torture. She wanted to scream to the world that she was in love. Run through the trees yelling Erik's name at the top of her lungs. Yet now, she moved as slowly and stiffly as she thought a seventy year old woman might.

She was turning from the sink when she heard a quiet knock at the front door of the inn. She moved slowly to the window in the kitchen, trying not to make a sound. Her breath caught in her chest, as she saw who was at the door…it was Raoul! "No!" a small gasp escaping from her tightened throat. She felt faint. The knocking became much louder and more insistent. She cowered now in the corner, hoping every shadow would obscure her from view.

Part of her yearned to go to her friend, telling him that she was sorry, that she would always care for him…. but she knew she could never speak to him again. The pain and misery on his face brought tears to Christine's eyes. Her childhood friend's heart was breaking and she was the cause of it. If only she could comfort him, but she knew she could not. A tear dropped over her lower lid, followed by several more, each traveling to her chin and dripping down on her chest. He had been good to her…she knew that he loved her….perhaps as much as Erik did…but he could find another…one more suitable in his father's eyes…. Christine belonged to Erik…had always belonged to Erik, and she was his forever now. Christine couldn't watch any longer.

She slipped behind the kitchen door, muffling slightly the sound of his knocking. She glanced around and was at once relieved to see a servant's stairway that led to the upstairs. She slipped up them quickly, finding herself in a closet, with a door on the other side. She passed through it, and was in the hallway at the opposite end of the hall of her room. She walked ever so quietly until at last she was on the other side of the door in her room, her back pressed against it, her chest heaving. She looked around….the room was empty. "Stephan, she called out shyly… the name seeming so foreign on her tongue. He was not there. The window was ajar just slightly.

Her eye caught a small envelope on the table. She picked it up, opening it, she read "My dear Elizabeth: I am feeling a bit better today, but regret that we must cut our visit short, health reasons considered. I've gone to inquire about a hansom to take us home. Your loving husband, Stephan."

Christine put the note back on the desk. She plopped face down on the neatly made bed. Her chest heaving up and down under the weight of her silent cries. She was overwhelmed by the emotions, not having expected them. She had no doubt that she loved Erik, perhaps beyond reason or rationale, but she could not quell the guilt that she felt having put Raoul through the ordeal. She was inexperienced at relationships, feeling both childish and heartless as she followed her passions, and in the heat of the moment allowed conflicting feelings to dominate her mind. She didn't know if she could ever forgive herself for all she had done. She hung her head, the quote "all is fair in love and war" running through her mind. The irony of those simple words…love perhaps is as violent and cold as war at times…it is the very nature of the beast.

She startled as she heard voices in the rooms below. Moving to the door as quietly as she could, pressing her ear to the wood. She could definitely hear Sara's voice, but who's was the other…. she knew in an instant. Sara was back from her visit and had invited Raou'l into the house!

Christine's pulse quickened, her heart beating wildly in her chest, eyes darting back and forth in the room, not really knowing what to do. She felt faint again. She sat down on the edge of the bed trying to rationalize what was happening. "He couldn't know you were here….he'd have police with him if he suspected…but why here, of all the inns on this street, in this City…why here? Maybe he'd seen Madame Giry, maybe he'd talked to someone, maybe it was coincidence…after all they were searching…"

Christine felt herself starting to calm until she heard footsteps on the stairs. She had to hide, but where? She stepped first toward the window, thinking about leaping through it, then looking at the dressing screen, thinking she could hide there, but what if Sara peered around it….as she heard the steps walking the hall toward her room, she leapt under the covers of her bed, laying face down and pulling them up around her shoulders. A gentle knock at the door. "Sir? Mum? Anyone in there?" Sara called out. Christine at once was wishing she had locked the door behind her, but alas she had not.

She heard the door open ever so slightly and again Sara called out "Sir? Mum?" Christine tried not to breathe. Sara walked in and over to the bed.

Christine could feel Sara's eyes boring into the back of her head. "Mum?" Christine just groaned quietly as if an old woman being disturbed in her slumber. Sara sighed, and walked away from the bed "least she's not dead" she muttered.

Christine could just make out Sara's figure in the corner of her eye. She had walked over to the dresser and had picked up the envelope. Christine realized now why Erik was so careful, one just never knew. Sara flipped the envelope over several times before sitting it down, never having opened it.

"Thank you" Christine said in her mind. Sara walked back to the door and out of the room. She waited until she heard footsteps once again on the stairs. Christine let out a singular gasp. "That was too close…Erik is right…we must go…must go at once."

Christine laid back down on the bed trying to listen to the conversation downstairs. She could make out only bits and pieces. She could hear Sara offering him a cup of coffee. She heard Raou'l clear his throat, and then she heard what she thought was a sob.

The tears returned to Christine's eyes. Why must she mortally wound one man to save another? Her heart ached for both men…one had her heart as a child, and one now embraced her as his wife. She'd not wanted to hurt either of them. Raoul would go on to find another, he'd have no trouble, though she knew he would miss her. Erik had but one lover, she had chosen…she had chosen.

He seemed to stay forever. The lights were starting to dim as the sun began its descent in the Western Sky. A mysterious beautiful blue, orange, and yellow being cast in its failing rays.

Christine had lain silently fading in and out of consciousness. The voices below no longer threatened her, she'd long since given up trying to make out what they were saying.

Her dreams returned to her, Erik on the beach playing with their daughter, Christine now cradling a tiny swaddle in her arms, someone she heard herself calming, "Gustave…shhhhh." She smiled in her sleepiness. Yet on the other side of the shore, just beyond the jagged rocks, a lonely form sat weeping. She rose, walking towards the pitiful thing. Her husband and daughter off in a distance, the baby no longer in her arms. She reached out to touch its hunched shoulders. It flailed around, writhing as if she had stabbed it with a knife, it's eyes now wide and fixed on her. "Raoul!"

She jerked awake, sitting straight up on the bed gasping for breath. In the nearly dark room she felt arms embrace her. "Shhhh Christine it is alright," he whispered in her ear "I am here to guard you, you have nothing to fear." She grabbed onto him, as a lost child does her savior. "Shhh now, it is o.k." Christine began to cry "don't ever leave me, I'm lost without you."

"I shan't leave your side again my dear. Do not worry for the voices you hear, they mean us no harm, they do not indeed know we are here." "I love you" was all she could manage as she collapsed into Erik's strong, protective arms. He cradled her, stroking the back of her head, rocking back and forth. Any doubts that may have flickered in the back of his mind now dissolving, she trusted him…trusted him completely.

Christine began to relax into her husband's embrace, tears of terror turning dry, a comforting sob emitting from her throat. She was so tired…so tired. Erik kissed her tenderly, laying her head against his chest, leaning against the headboard. He sat gently stroking her back with one hand, the other hand lying on her cheek. She felt safe. The world around her was in turmoil, but in his arms the world outside did not exist.

"Erik, he's been here for hours…Sara came upstairs looking for us, she picked up the letter…but she didn't read it…I understand now why you told us to always.." "Shhh….I know. I've been watching the house, and this room since the sun began to set. I was never far from you my dear, and would have been swift in my action should you have been threatened in any way."

Erik leaned down kissing Christine's forehead. Christine briefly smiled, nestling her head inside of Erik's shirt. Somehow clothing made her feel far away from him. It was only the touch of her skin against his that truly brought her comfort. Erik put his arms around her, holding her closely. Sitting in silence, listening only to the muffled voices below, the wood floor the only barrier between the man she loved, and the man she had thought she loved.

XXXX

Meg and Madame Giry were making their way back from the Opera House. Both women carting a large traveling bag apiece. They'd left some things behind, but the most valuable things were packed neatly inside. Their plan was working, everything seemed to be proceeding as it should.

Meg could see Sara moving back and forth in the steamed window. No doubt setting the table for dinner she thought. "Mother, do you think that Eri…um..Stephan and Elizabeth will join us for dinner this evening?" Madame Giry shot Meg a knowing glance. "Perhaps my dear, perhaps."

Madame Giry pushed open the door with her shoulder, having unlatched it. She came in, back toward the kitchen, helping Meg set her bag down by the inside of the door. Meg blanched, her face went white and she hurled forward into her mother's arms. "Meg, what on earth, my dear are you alright?" Madame Giry supporting the full weight of her daughter in her arms.

Madame Giry heard scuffling behind her as someone came around to assist her. Thinking it was Sara, she began "thank you Sara, I have no idea what…" Madame Giry choked on her words as they caught in her throat. There at her side was Raoul! Madame Giry knowing full well in that instant why Meg had fainted. "Raoul!" Madame Giry said, startle in her voice.

"Madame Giry, let me help you bring Meg to the settee." Raoul grabbed Meg under each arm, as Madame Giry put her arms under her knees. She tripped on her dress causing the three of them to nearly topple to the floor. Raoul reached out and scooped Meg up into his arms, carrying her over to the couch, laying her gently down, propping a pillow behind her neck.

"Sara?" Raoul called out, could you bring us a cool damp cloth?" Sara disappeared into the kitchen. Raoul turned, going over to help Madame Giry up from her knees. He embraced her "thank God you are alright. I am sorry I've not paid a visit sooner." He said leaning away from her and then back into an embrace. Madame Giry could do nothing more than put her hands on Raoul's back, returning his feelings. "You've no doubt been busy" was all Madame Giry could manage.

They both turned their attentions back to Meg. Sara returned from the kitchen, small basin of cool water in one hand, a soft cloth in the other. Before either woman could react, Raoul was dipping and wringing the cloth in the water, gently applying it to Meg's forehead.

Sara grabbed a newspaper, and began fanning Meg. Madame Giry holding her hand, kneeling at her side now. The three of them sat, all eyes fixed on Meg. She stirred ever so slightly, blinking quickly adjusting her eyes to the light. Meg gasped, the first face coming into focus was that of Raoul's. "Meg, Meg…." Raoul said. She, hoping it had been a dream. "Breathe!" She could hear Sara's voice in the background. She let out a long breath…she hadn't realized she had been holding it.

"Meg…" she could hear her mother's voice, though she couldn't see her. The world coming back into focus now, Meg realized that only the four of them were in the room, no police, no Erik, no Christine. She struggled to upright herself, Raoul leaning in to support her. She reached up and put her arm around his shoulders as he lifted her into a sitting position.

She felt lightheaded but fought the urge to close her eyes. She could see her mother behind Raoul and Sara, her eyes wide with concern, fear flickering behind the deep blue. "Meg, can you hear me?" She looked over at Raoul. He looked older to her. His eyes rimmed in red, his cheeks patches of red and white from hours of shedding tears. His normally well coifed hair, a bit disheveled, his cravat loosened, his jacket abandoned on the chair.

Meg had never been this close to Raoul. She knew he was handsome, but his closeness, even under these circumstances was overwhelming. "Yes, I am quite alright, thank you." Meg managed. Her mother looking somewhat relieved.

"What on earth frightened you so dear?" Sara was at her side, stroking her cheek. "You looked like you saw a ghost!" Meg turned to Sara expressionless, not knowing quite what to say.

Madame Giry said, "come, sit at the table, I'll bring you a cup of tea." She moved in gently prying Meg from Raoul's arms, and Sara's inquisitions. Meg's legs feeling a bit wobbly still, leaned heavily on her mother's arm, shuffling over to the table. She grabbed the side and sat herself down into one of the sturdy chairs.

Sara and Raoul joined her, each pulling out a chair and shuffling it over next to Meg's. Meg looked pleadingly up at her mother, who nodded back at her. "The day….it's just been a bit overwhelming" Meg said looking back and forth between Raoul and Sara. Meg reached out and touched Raoul's hand, a shudder ran up her spine. "Thank you for…." Meg looked up at Raoul, trying to smile.

"I am glad I was here to assist you." Raoul said, the overwhelming pain she'd seen in his eyes, easing just slightly. "How have you been, have you been managing alright since…" Meg just didn't know what to say. No matter what she said, she felt as though she was betraying someone.

The pain returning to Raoul's face. "We've been searching, but so far we've found nothing…" his eyes now seemed distant. "I know how close you were to Christine and I…." Tears welled up in his eyes again. Sara reached out putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. Raoul tried to muster all the poise a gentleman should have, he continued "we've been searching, and we will continue to search until such time we've interviewed everyone who might have been in the City that night, until every inch has been reviewed" he said resolutely.

Madame Giry looked a bit uneasily at the stairs, Sara catching her glance. "Your aunt's asleep upstairs, I've been to check on her already. Your uncle's out, not sure where on earth he went alone at this hour" Sara said.

"Yes," Raoul said, perking up just a bit, trying to straighten his coat, formalizing his demeanor. "I understand that you're going to spend sometime with them in the country." Raoul said looking at Madame Giry. Her eyes darted to Sara. "I visited with my father this afternoon, and he told me of the arrangements." Raoul looked back and forth between Meg and Madame Giry. "I trust the two of you will allow me to contact you, to perhaps visit if there is news?"

"Why yes of course, we'll leave directions at the Opera House so you are able to find us should the need arise."

Raoul smiled politely. "Meg, is your head feeling better?" Raoul turning his attentions to Meg inquired. "Why yes, thank you" Meg said shyly.

Sara rose as she heard the teapot beginning to boil. She walked over retrieving several cups. "Sir, will you be joining us for tea, or perhaps for dinner?"

Madame Giry felt her stomach rise into her throat. Her thoughts rushing in from every side. "What if Christine or Erik came down and saw Raoul sitting at the table, what would Erik do? No, there had to be some way for her to warn them, to interrupt the plan, to…." Her thoughts were jarred to reality as she heard Raoul politely declining the invitation as he was to have supper with his father and the search party at the Starboard.

"In fact, I should be expected over there soon, as I am certain that all the parties have returned by now" Raoul said, now standing, tightening his cravat, smoothing his hands over his hair, and straightening his coat. "Sara, thank you for your kindness, and your fine company, I shan't forget it." Sara smiled. "Madame Giry, Meg, please say we'll visit once more before you leave. We've so much to share…it has been a great loss for us all. We must stay in communication."

Madame Giry rose from her chair, embracing Raoul as a mother would a son. "All things will work out," she said patting his back "all things will work out as they should." He smiled at her, taking her hand into his, lifting it and kissing her knuckles. She smiled at him and nodded.

He walked over to where Meg was sitting. She began to rise. "No, no, save your strength," he said bending over and kissing her on the cheek. "You care for yourself, someday soon the sun will shine again." He reached out and put his hand under Meg's chin, looking her deeply in the eye. She smiled, and lowered her eyes before saying "you care for yourself too Raoul." The pair parted eyes and Raoul took up his cloak and walked to the door. "Good evening ladies" he said, as he opened the door and left.

XXXXX

Upstairs, Erik let out a small silent sigh. "He's gone now" he whispered into Christine's ear. She did not move. He realized that she had fallen asleep. He carefully shifted his weight, laying Christine's head down on the pillow. He gently pulled a blanket over her sleeping form. Rising from the bed he moved to the table and lit a candle. The room was starting to become chilly, a draft wafting in from the partly ajar window. Erik moved to close it and then set about making a fire.

He would go down for dinner, letting Christine get some rest. "It is best," he thought to himself. Christine and Erik together were electric. It would be much easier to play his part without her at his side. He needed to satisfy the innkeeper's curiosity, and he needed to let Meg and Madame Giry know of the plans that were made thus far. Yes, he'd go down for dinner now.

XXXXX

Meg rested her elbows on the table, head in hands, in very un-lady-like fashion. Sara had retreated to the kitchen to check on dinner's progress. The ham had been slowly roasting since the morning filling the inn with a sweet smoky aroma. Sara slipped a pan of rolls that had been rising into the oven. "Twenty minutes or so until dinner." She called out to Madame Giry and Meg. "Thank you." Madame Giry called back.

She slid her chair over very closely to Meg's. "My dear, are you alright?" Madame Giry said putting her hand on Meg's shoulder. "Oh mother, what on earth was he doing here? I was so startled it frightened me. The next that I knew he was dabbing my forehead." Meg looked as though she'd faint again.

"My dear, it frightened me too. I suppose he just needed to make sure we were alright. I spoke to his father, it makes sense that he would do the polite thing and check on us before we would leave the City. In some ways it makes this much more believable, and much easier for us all." Meg nodded.

"Mother do you think we should check on…I mean see if they're alright?" Madame Giry smiled at her daughter, putting her index finger just below Meg's chin, running it along her jaw. "I'll take care of that. You sit and rest. When you're feeling up to it, perhaps you can help Sara set the table."

Madame Giry rose and walked toward the stairs. Halfway up she paused. Meg turned around wondering why her mother would stop now. "We'll uncle, what a pleasant surprise." Madame Giry walked the few stairs up to meet him, helping him down the stairs. Meg's eyes wandered up behind him, hoping to see her friend descending, but alas he was alone.

Madame Giry assisted Stephan to the table. He began to cough ferociously. Sara came rushing out of the kitchen, a concerned look on her face, thinking it was Meg. "Oh, good sir…." She paused looking curiously at the door. "I didn't hear you come in, my apologies." Sara looking back and forth between the man at the table and the door.

"Will you and your wife be joining us for dinner?" Sara said hoping to at last have everyone together. He cleared his throat, and with much strain in his voice said "I regret Elizabeth would like to rest, perhaps she will eat later. I am afraid taking care of her old husband wears on her strength." Sara nodded, a bit disappointed, but happy to have an opportunity to talk to at least one of them.

Meg, Madame Giry, and Stephan sat making idle conversation. Mostly fabricating stories about life in the country, the gentleman's farm he owned, and assorted pleasant memories. Sara busied herself in the kitchen trying to be as quiet as she could so as to not miss too much of the conversation. Oh how she loved having people at her inn.

XXX

Christine woke, feeling the warmth of the fire, and seeing the candle flickering. She glanced toward the window, breathing a sigh of relief, it was tightly latched. She could hear laughter downstairs, a blend of the women she knew, and of that of an older man, no doubt Erik in character.

She stretched her arms above her head, touching the headboard, and slowly brought them down to her head. Her stomach was starting to growl, and the lure of the aromas from the kitchen were tantalizing. She'd have to powder her hair again, pull strains of makeup across her cheeks, and practice her droopiest face. She pulled herself from the bed, lighting softly on the old floorboards so as not to disturb them in case she changed her mind.

The room was warm now, the heavy blankets abandoned on the bed. Christine pulled out the powder and began mixing it with a bit of hair balm, working it into her palms and into the curls of her hair. She was nearly finished when she heard the scraping of chairs under the table in the room below. She could make out muffled voices, exchanging good-evening pleasantries. She sat down now on the chair by the fireplace, realizing as she heard footsteps on the stairs, that she had missed supper entirely.

Soon there was a pair of footsteps outside the door. She could hear the clinking of a tea cup in a saucer, thinking Erik would have been kind enough to bring her a cup of tea. The door opened, and in came Erik, Meg, and Madame Giry. They'd brought her up a small feast! Her eyes delighted at the sight of her family, but turned quizzically toward the tray that they brought and sat next to her. Erik raised his finger to his lips, signaling that they should all be careful what they spoke of now. They all nodded in acknowledgement, understanding his gesture.

"Elizabeth my dear, if I'd known you stirred, I'd have retrieved you for dinner" Erik began. "Thank you Stephan. Not that I do not prefer company, but the rest was good for me, I was more tired than I thought." Christine smiled at the three.

They came to rest in chairs, and Meg took a spot on the floor by Christine's feet. "Do eat my dear, it is still warm." Madame Giry said, pointing toward the dome covered plate on the tray before her. Erik reached over and lifted the cover. On the plate was ham, mashed potatoes, a roll, butter, and vegetables. A small fruit tart lay off to the side. Christine was most definitely hungry. She bowed her head for a moment before lifting knife and fork, slicing off the first bite.

They began a small conversation talking about the weather, and the travel plans that had been arranged for tomorrow afternoon. Each interjected thoughts that might be relative if they were actually going to a house in the country that they'd been hundreds of times before. Christine could not finish the ample dinner, but heavily eyed the tart. Erik smiled at her. "Being a grown woman my dear, if you'd like to have the tart instead, I'm sure no one would object." Christine smiled at Erik, blushing slightly. As her tutor he had been very strict, one thing followed the other, one never skipped a step. But now as her husband, he was more keenly aware of pleasing her, and that had a sweetness all its own.

She smiled, pushing away the plate slightly, and pulling the small saucer with the tart closer to her. Madame Giry glanced away, sensing intimacy between them that she'd never seen before. Meg simply smiled, knowing that Christine was with the man she loved, and Meg could see it in their exchange of glances.

Just then, there was a gentle rap on the door. Meg rose, going to the door, each looking at one another, before Erik nodded. Meg opened the door. "Sara," Meg said, not opening the door fully. "She's not yet finished, we could have brought the…" she trailed off as she noticed the silver tray with five stemmed glasses, and small china plates, each containing a large dark-chocolate truffle.

"I've brought a bed-time treat." Sara said, standing expectantly looking at Meg. "Do come in" called Madame Giry. Sara smiled as Meg opened the door allowing her entrance. Each party maintaining their composure. Sara walked over to the group, nodding as each one took a glass of cognac and a chocolate. When the last was taken, Sara put the silver tray under her arm, holding the glass of cognac, raising a toast. "To a wonderful family. May God bless you on your travels. May you return soon. I shan't forget your acquaintances, and hope that you will visit often when you come back." Each one raised their glass, drinking from it lightly, and taking a bite of the bitter chocolate.

"Thank you Sara" Madame Giry said. They chatted briefly by the fire, Sara looking at each one, trying to emblazon in her mind their faces, so she wouldn't forget them. A few minutes later, Sara picked up the dishes that had been finished, leaving the tea for Elizabeth. Each said their goodnights and departed.

As the bedroom door closed, Christine turned to watch Erik nod to Madame Giry. The room was silent until the last footsteps could be heard on the stairs. Erik went over to Christine, smiling at her, taking the glass from her hand, and pulling her up into a warm embrace. "You did very well my dear Elizabeth" he breathed into her ear. She smiled, nestling her head in by his neck. "As did you my dear Stephan. I assume as we fall off to sleep tonight you will tell me of the plans for tomorrow?" "Yes, I shall. But we aren't going to sleep just yet."

Christine looked at Erik smiling. She expected him to embrace her, instead he took her by the hand. Quietly leading her out of the bedroom, just a short distance to a small door on the left. Opening it she felt a small cool breeze about her ankles. Erik reached down putting his cloak around her shoulders. He led her up the tiny winding stairs to the roof.

"Now close your eyes." Erik whispered to her. The air was a bit chilly, but she could sense warmth not far away. He led her over to the chimne that rose out of the roof. Gently leaning her back against the brick, and down to a sitting position. Several soft blankets covered a pair of crates like finely upholstered chairs. He sat on the one next to her. "Now, open your eyes." Christine's breath caught in her chest. From the roof, the lights of the city twinkled. The gas lamps of the bridges still lit for the evening travelers, the faint glow of a city going to sleep twinkling far below. It was the opposite side of the Opera House, a view unmarred by the disaster of the previous nights. The house was situated on a hill, giving full view of the city below. "This is beautiful Erik, simply beautiful."

She nuzzled in next to him, he leaning down to kiss her brow. "I thought you would enjoy it. After all, a honeymoon should end with fireworks." Erik smiled at her as she turned to him. "I've loved being with you, being together here with you. Some day I will tell our children how hopelessly romantic their father was." Erik smiled, pulling Christine into a passionate kiss. There the pair sat on the moonlit rooftop. Warmth surrounding them, love filling them to the depths of their souls. A short honeymoon filled with no less love, no less passion than one that would last a lifetime.

**Waytoointoerik**: I love your tag name! It would have been good for me too! Thank you for the compliment. I've thought about the title several times, wondering if it truly represented the story, but decided changing the name would be too confusing. I will continue to update as chapters are written. This one finished at nearly 1:30 a.m.! Stories in my mind do not respect time, they demand obedience, so here I am.


	43. Welcome Sleep

Chapter 43 Welcome sleep 

Raoul rode home silently in his father's carriage. The elder De Chagny doing what he did best, socializing, had decided to remain at the Starboard to entertain his guests. The general masses were so easily impressed Raoul thought to himself. Fine food, flowing liquor, and dubious praise winning them over easily. No doubt they would again be eager to offer their services to the De Chagny family whenever needed.

Raoul drifted off into a sleep of sorts, exhaustion from the physical strains, lack of sufficient sleep, and mental exhaustion from the tormenting anguish he felt.

He smiled briefly thinking of the encounter with Meg and Madame Giry. He always wondered at how both Christine and Meg had been raised by the same woman, lived in the same dorms, dressed in the same clothes, and yet Meg was so easy to impress, while Christine had been more difficult, preferring depth and substance to anything superficial. She'd not been won over by a simple smile, or kind act, for her it had taken much more. Perhaps that is what made him love her all the more…she wasn't like the others.

Raoul sighed to himself. Would he have to one day marry a woman who swooned at his every glance? It was flattering to be admired, but he desired to be loved for him, not his name or social standing. Still, it made him smile to think of Meg blushing. She was the closest he had been to Christine in days, and in an odd way it comforted him. Perhaps it was the shared grief he thought to himself as he nodded off.

XXXXX

Downstairs Sara sat in her room reading before bed. The house was quiet now, except for the purring of the cat that now lay curled up in her lap, and the squeak of the rocker as she moved back and forth.

How brief this enjoyment had been. Not a week before the letter had arrived, and now her guests were departing the next day. She'd pack them a nice lunch for their ride, she thought to herself.

She rose from her chair, cat dropping to its feet below. Looking out at the night sky from her window, she noticed how clear it was, and how bright the stars shone against the coal-black backdrop of the night sky. The streets were now empty, with the exception of the lone drunkards who wandered their way home.

She was tired, but it was a happy tired. As she got ready for bed she thought once more about how oddly familiar Madame Giry's uncle seemed to her. It was something that tugged at the back of her mind about his laugh…almost like she'd heard it before. She shook her head dismissing it, knowing it was highly unlikely they'd ever crossed paths before. She climbed into her bed, cat at her side and thought about her guests as she fell off into a sweet sleep.

XXXX

Meg and Madame Giry were in their rooms reading from the books that they had brought with them from the Opera House, some they hadn't looked at in years. "Mother, do you remember reading this one to me?" Meg held up a book with a little yellow duckling on the cover. Madame Giry smiled, "why yes, it was one of your favorites." Meg curled up next to her mother like she did when she was but a young girl.

"Read a couple of pages to me won't you?" Madame Giry smiled "sweet silly Meg," but she began. "Once upon a time, there was an ugly duckling…" Meg fell off to sleep not long after the first few pages. Madame Giry put the book down, caressing her daughter's cheek, pushing back the blonde whisps that fell across her forehead. Madame Giry was grateful to have Meg…and grateful that they would be together for some time to come…with Erik and Christine. She leaned back against the headboard, listening to the utter silence, and in those fading moments was at peace.

XXXX

Christine shivered. Even in Erik's embrace under his thick cloak, the chill of the evening air was seeping in. Her back was still warm, leaning against the chimney had seen to that. Her nose was red at the tip, and a frosty haze was filling her eyes. Erik sat starting out at the City, humming a soft melody.

"You'll miss it won't you." Christine said looking up at Erik. "Hmmmm?" Erik turned to her looking at the pink at the end of her nose and reaching up his warm palm to thaw it. "The City, you'll miss it?" Christine said again.

Erik shifted his attentions to Christine, pulling her closer. "Yes, I suppose I shall. Looking out at the city as it sleeps….reminds me of all the nights I've looked down at it before." Christine looked up at him again, curious look on her face as if asking him silently to tell her more.

"All of the years that I spent here…at the Opera House…the only time I ventured outside was after dark, when none would be looking. I spent many hours on the roof of the Opera House…looking down at houses….watching as their lights went out, as families went to bed….." Christine put her arms around Erik's waist and hugged him tightly. It would no doubt take years to erase those thoughts, if ever they would stop tormenting him. Erik continued, his eyes a bit dewy, "I often wondered if I would ever have a home…a family…." He trailed off.

Christine nuzzled under his cloak, her cold nose touching his neck, her warm lips quickly erasing the offense. "I'd almost given up hope….resolved myself to the fact that it wasn't to be…for me." Erik felt his words catch in his chest, a sob rising to his throat.

Christine looked up at Erik. His face now glistened with a single tear trailing down his cheek. Expecting to see his face twisted in pain, she smiled as she realized he was smiling too, now looking down at her. He had a beautiful smile…his eyes danced when he smiled. Christine rose up to meet Erik's lips. She was bringing him happiness he never knew….he was bringing her the happiness she had only dreamed of.

Erik scooped Christine up into his arms, wrapping his cloak around her, to protect her from the frosty night air. He walked along the rooftop, staring once more out at the city, singing softly, something in French. "What does it mean Erik?" Christine asked in a whisper. "It means good-bye fair city, I've gone to be with my love." Erik smiled at Christine as he lowered her to her feet, embracing her.

He lifted her hand to his shoulder, grasping the other in his. He slid his arm around her waist, and began to glide across the roof, slowly turning her, singing softly. The outside world fading once more into oblivion, the stars shining down on the lovers, the lights of the city twinkling below…yes indeed, Christine would one day have to tell their children how very romantic their father was.

XXXX

The carriage lurched to a stop in front of Raoul's house, the coachman hopping off to open the door for Raoul. He was barely awake as he thanked him and slipped off into his study.

He glanced at the decanter on the shelf, now refilled, and then over at the floor by the fireplace, it too had been swept, all traces of his embarrassment erased. He glanced back at the decanter once more before deciding against it. He was tired tonight, a sleepy tired, so perhaps he would actually sleep…it was worth a try. He wandered off to the kitchen, poured himself a cup of hot water from the kettle that was always on the stove, and submerged a tea ball in the cup, taking it back to his room. Chamomile, it was Christine's favorite.

Once in his room it took him no time at all to slip into his bedclothes. He stood by the fire, waiting for his tea to steep. The crackling of the fire, Raoul decided, would never hold the same sweetness after watching as it hungrily devoured the Opera House. It was soothing yes, but only when given a short leash.

He sighed deeply, recalling again his visit with Meg and Madame Giry. He hoped to be able to bring them good news in the coming days. He glanced back to his bed and decided to recline. Sitting there staring up at the ceiling he closed his eyes, trying to find the words to pray. "Thank you that they were alright…that someone was caring for them. Please help us all as we…." His thoughts trailed off as exhaustion overtook him. There he sat, slumped in the bed asleep, tea cooling on the side table.

XXX

Erik led Christine back to their room, the cool air on their heels, their warm hearts comforting them. Once inside, Erik lifted Christine onto the bed, carefully removing her cape, and then silently, tenderly, removing all barriers between them one by one. Each time things became more familiar, more natural. Christine felt loved. Erik was more tender than she could have ever imagined. The room was silent aside from the sweet utterances of this new husband and wife. Somewhere far up in the night sky a shooting star took flight, blazing across it at the speed of light. Tonight was more special than the two of them could ever have imagined, but they would learn in time.


	44. First Morning Light

Chapter 44 First morning light 

Sara woke as she heard the milk cart clattering by the inn at first light. She was up and out of her nightclothes before the chill of the air could phase her. She would prepare a wonderful breakfast for her guests, for today she knew would be a busy one.

Sara stumbled to the front door to gather in the morning deliveries of milk and eggs. She noticed a small box next to the normal crate. She smiled, wondering if something had been left there by mistake. She lifted it into her apron, collecting the crate in her arms. She went back inside and closed the door, carrying her collection to the counter. Pulling the box from her apron, she noticed that the top contained a singular note: "Sara LaFound", inside was a beautiful broach, and a note "Thank you for your kindness and your company yesterday. It does my heart well to know that Madame Giry and her daughter Meg have been taken in by such a fine woman. Do give my regards to your guests this morning, and let them know that I shall be by this afternoon for a visit." Raoul, Vicomte De Chagny.

Sara's heart was taken aback. It hadn't been since her husband passed on that she'd received a gift such as this. She proudly took it from its paper, placing it on her dress. Of course it looked a bit out of place on the plain woolen fabric, but she wouldn't dream of not wearing it when he visited. It seemed silly, but she felt like a fine woman as she went about her morning's work. Something about that jewelry made her feel light as a feather.

XXXXX

Christine woke up, stretching as far as her arms and legs would allow. Her hand searching the bed next to her; finding it empty. She sat up a little, the room still dark with the exception of the small fire that still smoldered. She slipped from beneath the covers, her feet alighting on the floor, she shivered at the feel of the cold wood on her soles.

Opening the door to the hallway, seeing only the company of the small gas lamps that lit the way to the water closet. She could tell that Sara was already awake; the bitter aroma of the first morning pot of coffee brewing. She padded quietly down to hall, entering the small room, closed the door behind her.

She peered into the mirror as she began washing her face. She splashed a bit of cool water on it, letting the water run down her neck as she sat staring at herself in the mirror. "You aren't little Lottie anymore" she said smiling at herself. No one would have convinced her that a few days time could change her life, and yet it had.

Last week she had been engaged to another man…and this week she was the bride of the man she truly loved. Something about the intimacy of the marriage bed made her feel older, yes, decidedly older, but not old. The very feeling of being that close to someone changes you…makes you feel different. "That's what God intended…two shall become as one," she thought to herself. She just stared and stared trying to see that innocent young girl's face again….but she was gone…in her place was Erik's wife. An excited giggle reverberated through her as she began running the brush through her hair, tying it back with a satin ribbon.

She finished her sponge bath, smoothing lotion onto her skin. A new day was beginning. The travels would be long, perhaps dangerous, as they went through with their plan. "Once we are outside of the city…it will be easier" she thought to herself. She began the long process of powdering, plumping, and hunching, getting into character for the first formal meal the group had been to together.

XXXXX

Erik was puffing silently as he made his way back to the inn. He'd not had much sleep, preparing the last of things that he had to tend to before they left. He'd gone to retrieve more of his small fortune, securing the remainder far into a deep cavern where none would ever find it.

He'd been certain of a comfortable life with just Christine, but he had two others to think about now. He'd felt odd in the beginning….taking a salary at the Opera House…but he did "work" for the money, providing guidance, music, set construction plans and the like.

Most of the salary he was sure was paid out of fear, a promise to do no harm in exchange for a small fortune. Now, he was grateful that he had taken it…for it would have been nearly impossible to carry out his plans now without it. He had used so little of it, most of what he did spend having been done in the last months procuring the necessities for Christine.

Erik was always careful returning to the inn. He thought about going back in through the window in his room, but then thought better of it as dawn was breaking, and his movements would look oddly out of place for a man his age. He waited just a few doors down until he saw Sara disappear into the kitchen again, and slipped in through the front door that he'd unlatched before he left that night.

Stealthily he mounted the stairs, making barely a sound. He traveled the hallway, noticing a small flicker of light under Meg and Madame Giry's room, he stopped and knocked softly. Without a word, Madame Giry appeared at the door. Over her shoulder Erik could see Meg still asleep in her bed. Madame Giry opened the door slightly, letting Erik slip in. She motioned him over to where she had been packing a large trunk.

Erik reached out touching her shoulder, then handed her a bulging envelope, nodding he turned and left the room. She opened it as she sat down on the bed. Inside there were a variety of things. Several maps, a set of keys, a note, and a tightly wound stack of silver notes. She gasped, Erik had included a full month's salary, she couldn't imagine why.

She lifted the note, sad smile on her face, the old familiar paper in her hand, she thought it might be the last note she'd receive from him. The note read "My dearest Madame Giry: It is my hope that our travel plans go well, and we arrive without incident. To that end these items, with the exclusion of the silver notes, can be returned to me when we arrive. The first group, is for you to provide to your employer so that they may find you when the time is appropriate for your return. The second is for your personal use, keep it with you at all times, it will provide direction for you should you need it. Yours truly, Uncle Stephan."

Madame Giry looked at the carefully tied group of parchment, a different type of paper was used, and it had Mr. Firmin scrawled on its cover. The second, a more familiar stationary, was addressed to Madame Giry. She unlashed the bundle with her name on it. Inside was a brief cryptic note. "Keep this safe at all times, on your person is preferable. Should the need arise, this will provide you with directions to a safe haven." Attached was a small map to a town just outside of France, the name of man to find, and specifics regarding a house and those who tended it. Madame Giry quickly tucked those items, the money, and the keys into a stocking, and lashed it around her thigh. Under the large dress, it was barely noticeable, she was thankful.

The other envelope for Mr. Firmin, she laid on the dresser, she would see to its delivery later. Madame Giry understood what Erik was doing…he wanted to be sure that no matter what happened, that she and her daughter, perhaps Christine would be cared for. "He never abandons those he cares for…never," she thought smiling as she returned to her packing.

Erik slipped down the hall and into his room. Christine was not in the bed. He peered behind the dressing screen, but she was not there. He sat down on the chair by the fireplace, resting his eyes.

Soon there was movement by the door, Christine came back into the room. Erik turned slightly, looking at the poor old hunched woman, and smirked as he realized Christine was readying herself for the day.

"My dear Elizabeth" Erik said. Christine jumped. "You startled me Stephan! Where is it you were off to so early in the morning?" Christine now standing erect moved across the room to the chair beside him. "I had several last things to attend to my dear." Erik said rising to give Christine a quick tender kiss. "Good morning love," he said to her.

Christine smiled and settled herself into the chair. The extra padding around her middle, and the thick makeup on her face making her feel unattractive. She smiled at Erik, rolling her eyes and pointing to her hair. Erik smiled and winked at Christine.

Her heart leapt in her chest. "Did he just wink at her? He'd never done that before." She smiled coyly. She rose, going over to him, kissing him on the cheek, and once more tenderly on the lips. He would never cease to surprise her. She moved to the bed, smoothing the blankets down, and began to arrange all of her clothing on the bed. "Come, we must start packing for our travels" Christine said. "You go ahead my dear" Erik replied "I must rest my eyes for but a few moments." Christine replied "that's fine my dear, you rest. I'll wake you for breakfast. Why don't you lay on the bed?"

Christine began shifting things off of it to make room for him. "No, I prefer to stay here by the fire. Thank you just the same." Erik said, head now reclining against the back of the chair.

Christine wondered how many nights he'd slept like that, watching over her, or pouring over his music. As far as she could tell he'd never had a proper bed…in his small room in the caverns, he'd slept in…slept in…she could barely think of it…a coffin! She shook her head, trying to dislodge the awful thought. She smiled, from now on, each night, he would be invited to bed, to the side of his wife. She happily went about folding and packing as Erik slept in the chair.

XXX

The sun was shining fully in through the windows in Sara's kitchen. A warm golden glow lit the dining room. All the china was in place, goblets of fresh juice on the side of each plate. Serving platters were on the counter, awaiting their courses. The coffee was brewed and hot. Sara was just bringing the eggs to the pan when she heard footsteps on the stairs.

"Good morning Sara!" Madame Giry said as she rounded the corner into the kitchen. "Good morning to you too Madame!" "Is there anything that I might do to help you this morning?" Madame Giry said, looking around the room at the feast that Sara was preparing.

"You must be expecting an army Sara, look at this." Sara turned smiling to Madame Giry. "I can't have my guests going off hungry now can I? What kind of innkeeper would I be?" The two women laughed. "May I?" Madame Giry said, motioning toward the dish of fruits that were on the counter. Sara smiled and nodded. She'd long given up hope that her guests would behave as guests; refusing assistance now would be like denying family. The two busied themselves making the last preparations. For all outward appearances, they behaved as family, and enjoyed one another's company s if they were.

XXX

Raoul was still asleep when his father arrived. The elder De Chagny hadn't slept yet, having entertained until dawn.

At his son's house his father was greeted with the greatest respect, being met at the door by the servants, hot cup of coffee, and an escort to a proper room, with a warm fire. He slumped into the chair by the fire, feeling tired of course, but satisfied that he had planted all the necessary seeds in the city last night. It would be hard for anyone to slip in or out of the city now, he had employed every spy he could think of. Flattery, expensive food, and flowing liquor had ensured they were duly impressed, and now likely fiercely loyal for hopes of more of the same treatment that they had enjoyed that night.

He didn't really care for rubbing shoulders with the commoners in that way, but he would stop at nothing to help his son reclaim his true love. Somehow he hoped that this resolution would absolve him of his own wretched past.

He'd known many women before, and since his wife, but he'd only loved her…he didn't want Raoul to be denied his one chance for true love. Perhaps Christine could be a suitable daughter-in-law, with the proper educating. He closed his eyes and fell off into a deep, heavy slumber

**Author's Notes:**

My sincerest thank you to all of you for your reviews. I am enjoying being a part of this cyber-family. I imagine us all scattered around the world, different time zones, different hemispheres…all linked together by a story that was started so very long ago. Little did Gaston know that his story would be enjoyed by generations to come! There are quite literally hundreds of us now re-writing the ending to this tragic love story, each ending to suit our own hearts. It's a lot like life really, we each are given one, and we get to decide how the story goes, and hopefully, how it ends. It really makes you think about the past, present, and the future, all intricately connected by the gift of literature!

**Captain Oblivious**: Ahhh…yes….driving you mad has become quite a game! Somewhat akin to fencing don't' you think? Loss…love is tragedy…a bittersweet symphony would be simply splendid…I can hear it now…hmmmmm….sorry, lost in thought. Yes, it is fated that this be a romantic love story…something dreamy about it, and try though I might, I cannot help but be lost in it myself. I am a Phantom fan through and through….but I must say I share your sentiment about Gerard….I've rather been thinking about changing my address to Scotland! Oh…back to the story… Raoul, yes, our dear sweet Raoul….he has a fate also…but I cannot share it with you….it must reveal itself! I hope you enjoy the coming chapters….they are…they are….well, you'll just have to read them and decide for yourself!

**Ethalas Tuath'an**: Thank you for the compliment. I had hoped no one would mind that I tarried at the Inn for such a long time. So much has to happen to build to the next events, and in order to do that, a solid structure must be formed, allaying any question in the future. Yes, they will attempt to leave Paris…did I just say that? Anyway, Raoul must mourn, for he has lost his great love…his one great love…something that bound the strings of his past, his present, and his future together in a way that nothing else in his life had managed to. Mourning like that could go on for a lifetime….maybe it will…..maybe it won't….either way, Raoul needed a little relief don't you think? I hope you enjoy the next chapters!

**Christine de Nuit:** Thank you for the compliment. Reviews such as these keep me going on! I hope you enjoy the next chapters as much as I did!

**Cravann**: Thank you! That is such a beautiful time in history, the language was so eloquent, I'd hate to cheat that by using words that were too modern. I love to find others who get lost in the story! Literature is a form of escape for me, and I, like you, can become lost in it for hours! I've been known to pick up a book in the morning with my coffee, and before I know it I'm weeping at the end and it is dark outside! Sorry about your day off…I hope it was enjoyable anyway! The next chapters are special I think, they build the bridge for what's coming next!

**Glitter Queen of the Ice Show**: All in good time my dear, all in good time! Perhaps it is fated, perhaps it is not…maybe fate has other plans…..

**Phantomadark**: Thank you for your compliment. I hope you can catch up on the next chapters….I promise, it will be worth it!

**Waytoointoerik:** Sorry about being late for work! If you give my your boss's e-mail, I'll write you a note to excuse your tardiness! Thank you for keeping up with the story! I know…when Raoul was there I was on pins and needles, my fingers couldn't keep up with my mind, I was typing so fast as the adrenaline coursed through my veins! I'm afraid that they aren't out of the woods just yet…or maybe into the woods….hmmmm

**Diveprincess**: I didn't mean to make you cry….oh…who am I kidding….I cried like a baby myself! Oh bittersweet love…they are such a romantic pair…. I hope you enjoy the next few chapters!

**Cinafran:** Thank you for the note about Giry vs Jiry. I've corrected the error in my ways in the coming chapters…I've a few reviewers who carefully guided me in the right direction regarding my spelling, or should I say mis-spelling. Thank you for joining the journey…it may be a bumpy one…but I hope I can make you smile from time to time!


	45. Breakfast dishes and reflections

Chapter 45 Breakfast dishes and reflections 

Meg had joined her mother and Sara in the dining room. She found herself standing with a steaming cup of coffee and milk near the window basking in the warm glow of the morning sun. Sara looked up, sitting her cup down on the counter. "Good morning sir, can I help you and your wife?" Sara said watching as Stephan and Elizabeth descended the stairs, their actions slow and deliberate. Stephan simply waving her off.

Madame Giry nodded at Meg who immediately went to assist them. Christine was coming down first, feigning to help her husband. Meg took her by the hand, holding her forearm guiding her to a chair at the table. Madame Giry had moved in to help Erik the rest of the way to the table.

Sara disappeared into the kitchen to take the rolls from the oven. Madame Giry followed her. "No, no, I insist, you sit with your family. There's not much to be done, I'll see to it, go…go sit please." Madame Giry smiled at her and returned to the table.

"Did you have a good rest uncle?" Meg inquired. "Yes, but I am looking forward to being home again, I am a creature of habit my dear." Meg reached out patting his glove clad hand. Erik tried to keep most of his extremities covered, so that they would not give away his true age.

Christine sat rather hunched, quietly looking at the coffee cup in front of her. "Would you like some coffee aunt Elizabeth?" Meg said, already moving in the direction of the kitchen. "Yes, quite, I'm feeling rather chilled." Meg smiled at Christine…she didn't even see the slightest glimpse of the friend she knew. Christine looked old, the tones of her voice were old, and for all the world knew, she was old.

Sara placed the first platter of food on the table, smiling at her guests. She returned, platter, after platter of food appearing at the table. Soon everything was set. When everyone was seated at the table, Erik bowed his head to offer a prayer. "Thank you for this kind company, wonderful feast, and for our journeys to come. May you bless all who join us at this table, showing mercy and compassion to us one and all. Amen."

Madame Giry glanced at Sara, who was seated at the table with them. For once she had nearly wished that Sara insist that she shouldn't join them, but she had been asked several times by her and Meg to join them, so it seemed that she should for this their final meal together.

They began passing platters around the table, Meg and Madame Giry holding the platters that would be too heavy for an aged person to manage. Everyone acting on cue, playing their parts as if rehearsed in an elaborate stage production.

Sara was again laughing at something Stephan had said, Meg and Madame Giry fussing over Elizabeth. The meal times had provided so much joy for them this past week. None had been around a family table for a long, long while. Erik had never been.

The dormitories had provided a different type of dining, definitely not personal. Sara had dined alone so long that it almost seemed foreign to her now. Aside from the brief time in the cave, and a past that he desperately endeavored to purge from his memory, Erik had dined alone in the darkness of the caverns below the Opera House. They all enjoyed it, forming a special bond as they enjoyed good food, and even better company. They tarried at the table, long after the last cup of coffee had been drunk, and the food all cold. None could bring themselves to leave the table, or the moments in which they found a sense of family.

XXX

Raoul woke, the side of his cheek feeling as if it were on fire. He struggled to open his eyes in the blinding light of the sun that shown fiercely through his bedroom window. He rose walking over to the window thinking of drawing the curtains, but could not. He stood at the open window and marveled at how the sunlight danced off the new coating of snow that lay just outside. It was pristine, untouched, unmarred…and beautiful.

He stretched high, realizing for the first time in days he had slept through the night, and actually felt somewhat rested. The heaviness in his heart was still there…no doubt it would take months for it to release its tenuous grasp on him.

Outside of paying his planned visit to Madame Giry and Meg, he didn't really know what to do today. The search parties would be making final report this afternoon when he and his father visited the police office. Until then, there was little to be done. Every square inch of the city had been covered, and yet no revelations. "Must have slipped out before we began….those precious first hours….had the men not wanted to rest….we may have found them" Raoul thought to himself. He was in an odd spot now, out of sorts. The searching was nearly over. There was little to be done but accept that she may not be found. How does one move forward from there? How do you pick up the pieces and go on?" he thought to himself.

After the death of his mother, Raoul's father had thrown himself into his work, never looking back. Raoul did not have that complete luxury, he was to produce an heir, that was to have been his focus for the next several years before joining his father at the family business. Perhaps he would have to wait on that issue, turning his attentions to rebuilding the Opera Populaire, and on growing a new heart.

XXXXX

Meg had just finished helping Sara dry the last of the breakfast dishes. The room was warm and steamy, both of their foreheads damp with sweat. Sara sat down on a stool, Meg on one next to her.

"Sara, I shall miss our time together. Perhaps one day we can visit again soon." Meg reached over, giving Sara a little hug. "I shall miss the company" Sara said looking down at the ground. "It has been a true joy having voices in my home…I rather find it comforting…and will miss it when it is gone. Quiet is only good for sleeping babies I'm afraid, not old widows!" Sara said smiling up at Meg.

Sara looked around the inn, the aging walls that had been witness to so many things, if only they could talk and keep her company. "Perhaps one day your uncle will need a cook or housekeeper," Sara half-jokingly said. Then she stood, straightening her dress, caressing her new broach.

"That's a lovely piece of jewelry" Meg said, "a gift from your husband?" "This, why no, it's new, arrived this morning in fact!" Meg smiled at Sara coyly "a suitor Sara?" she smiled again. "Why no, it is a gift from the Vicomte De Chagny, a thank you note was attached. He rather enjoyed our visit yesterday, and was thanking me for having you and your mother stay with me."

Meg turned a bit pale. She wasn't sure, but something about even the mention of his name made her a bit edgy. "Are you alright dear?" Sara said reaching out to Meg's cheek.

"Oh, my yes" she stammered "it must be the heat from the dishwater." Meg brushed the wisps of hair from her brow. "It is lovely….how thoughtful of him." Meg said staring at the broach. She stood moving toward the window looking out.

"I suppose I should go to help my mother, there is still much packing and sorting to be done. We've left what we could behind at the Opera House for when we return." Meg knew it was a lie, but she had to do as instructed for the good of all. Sara nodded. "Best we all get to our work then. I've got things to keep me busy this afternoon."

The two parted ways. "Don't forget" Sara called up after Meg, "the Vicomte will be visiting this afternoon before you leave…he'd like very much to meet your uncle." Meg just scampered up the stairs. In her light headedness from the day before, she'd forgotten that he was coming back for a visit. She felt nervous and giddy all at the same time. She couldn't say why it excited her that he was coming back to visit, but it did. Now she must warn the others that he was coming. Perhaps they could arrange to be away when he arrived…

XXXXX

Christine was busy packing the remaining items in her traveling bags. Erik, ever efficient, ever prepared, had his packed before Christine woke in the morning. Erik rested in the chair listening to her talking to herself, practicing her best elderly tones. A smile crossed his face. He was much more relaxed about their exit than he thought he would have been, considering the proximity of the police, of Raoul. Maybe it was the way Christine loved him. Maybe it was knowing Meg and Madame Giry would be with them. Maybe it was because for the first time he felt like he belonged. Maybe it was the groundwork that had been laid regarding their departure. Whatever it was, he had a deep sense that things were going to be o.k. He parted his eyes just briefly to see Christine at her tasks. He loved her. He mused at how she looked hair all grayed, face ashen. It was like looking into the future…he'd love her still…even when she was old, gray and wrinkled.


	46. Cocoa Cookies and Hansoms

Chapter 46 Cocoa, Cookies, and hansoms 

Sara was busy packing a lunch for them. She tucked in a few extra treats. A jar of the preserves that Meg fancied, some of the tea biscuits that Madame Giry liked. A bit of smoked meat for the gentleman. Sandwiches and jars of winter fruits. Before long the basket was overflowing, and Sara was busy trying to figure out how to tuck in just a few more things.

XXXXX

Meg went up to her room, finding her mother pushing hard on the cover of the last trunk that was to be packed. It wasn't heavy, but it was full. "Mother, let me help you with that" Meg said, rushing to her mother's side. "Thank you dear" she said, breathing a sigh of relief, quickly sitting on the edge of the settee.

"We're nearly ready. We've but to pay a visit to the Opera House to deliver my envelope" Madame Giry said, nodding toward the package on the dresser.

"What's this for?" Meg asked, picking up the envelope addressed to Mr. Firmin. "Our new location, until such time the Opera House is repaired." Madame Giry said. "What, but where….is it safe…who" Meg began to ramble. "Stephan, my dear, Stephan. He is a careful planner, and knew what arrangements were to be in order for us before we left."

Madame Giry walked past her daughter, touching her chin, on her way to get her cloak. Meg followed her down the stairs and to the door. "Sara?" Madame Giry called out. Sara came from behind the kitchen door, apron on, a knife in one hand, a spatula in the other. "Sara, Meg and I are on our way to the Opera House. Should Stephan or Elizabeth be in need of anything, please let them know we will be back within the hour." "As you wish Madame" Sara smiled at them.

"Oh, wait" Sara said, a large grin crossing her face, she disappeared behind the door of the kitchen. She came back out, holding two cups in one hand, and several napkins in the other. "They're just fresh from the oven," she said handing Meg and Madame Giry each a large white sugar cookie, with a large lump in the middle, and a cup of cocoa. "This will help keep you warm on your way." Before Meg and Madame Giry could thank her, Sara disappeared once more into the kitchen, the door swinging closed behind her.

Meg and Madame Giry smiled at each other, their hands warm from their contents. "Well, we shouldn't let this go to waste" Madame Giry said, looking at Meg who had already lifted the cookie to her lips. As she took the first bite, she savored the rich buttery taste, the essence of vanilla, the velvety crumble of the shortbread on her tongue. She closed her eyes in pure enjoyment. It had been a long while, since Christmas at least, since Meg had tasted a cookie. She slowly chewed, savoring every morsel. She lifted the hot cocoa to her lips, letting it easily slip past to caress her tongue. This was sheer heaven.

Meg opened her eyes to realize her mother had been watching her. Madame Giry, somewhat sorrowfully thought about the things that her daughter had been denied living in the Opera dorms. She'd never had her mother baking cookies or sweets. On rare occasion they had shared time in the kitchen when the Opera House cleared it's dorms for the holidays, or on summer leave, but it was not something that they did often. True, Meg had learned the rudimentary skills, but not the normal everyday lessons most girls of Meg's age were accustomed to.

"Mother, aren't these wonderful?" "Why yes Meg, indeed they are." Meg had moved on to the thick center, biting down to discover it was a large lump of smooth chocolate, somewhat sweeter than the cookie itself. It was pure indulgence, pure enjoyment. Meg and Madame Giry finished their cookies, and sipped their cocoa as they walked out of the door, into the chilly noon-time air, to cross one last time to the Opera House.

XXXX

Raoul was nearly into the city now, realizing that he should pay his visit early if he was to avoid the noon-meal hour. If he waited until after, his visit would be cut short by his meeting with his father at the police offices. As he entered the city, he turned to go down the long set of streets that led to the Opera House, and to Sara's Inn. It would be ten minutes time before he was there, oh how he looked forward to the warmth of the hearth.

XXXX

Erik stood looking out the window as he heard a carriage clattering down the cobblestone at the back of the inn. "He's early, at least a half-hour early," Erik muttered. He didn't like being surprised….late was not acceptable, but early was reproachable. Christine looked at him. "Stephan, perhaps you could speak to him about loading our trunks and bags. After that, he will simply have to wait until we are ready." Christine said with a smile. "Of course" Erik said departing down the back staircase.

There was a gentle wrap at the back door. Sara glanced over her shoulder, looking curiously at the shadow outside the window. "Who on earth?" Sara opened the door part way. "Madame, Joseph at your service." Sara glanced him up and down, a bit short, rough shaven, clothing looked as though he'd slept in them. "Is Stephan ready for…" he was interrupted when Sara turned her attention behind the door. "Sir" she said, "the hansom has arrived, a bit early I'm afraid, do you want him to come back?" Sara said looking back rather irritated at the driver. "No need" Stephan pulled the door open and stepped past Sara and closed the door behind him. Sara shook her head, going back about her work. She'd have to pack the cookies before they were fully cooled. She hoped they'd not stick together because of it.

Outside Erik continued in his elderly manner, explaining the trunks and bags. He peered into the coach, dark curtains covered the windows as instructed. Several large blankets across each seat. The back of the carriage had been extended just slightly to accommodate the baggage. Erik reached inside pulling a small pouch of coins from his jacket pocket. "Half now, half when we arrive" Erik said, turning and going back into the house. Joseph followed him up to the rooms where Erik pointed to each bag and trunk. Erik, still bent over just a bit, made his way to the chair in his room, situating it so that he could keep his eye on Joseph as he made his way up and down the back stairs carrying the items to be loaded in the carriage. Christine had gone down to the kitchen to get out of the way. It was men's work, and she preferred the company of the innkeeper to that of a man who smelled like horses.

Sara smiled at Elizabeth as she saw her come around the corner. "I'm sorry mum, you and I haven't had much time to get acquainted. I hope you are feeling a bit better today." Christine tried to strain her voice as much as she could to disguise her youthful tones. "I am, thank you. I am weary just thinking of the long coach ride…the jostling of the carriage does such terrible things to old bones." Sara laughed in an understanding tone. "That it does…that it does." She laughed. "When I go to visit my daughter it is a half-days ride. By the time I arrive I am exhausted…so I tend to travel in the afternoon so there is no need for embarrassment when I want to retire when I arrive!" Sara and Elizabeth both laughed.

"Those smell wonderful" Elizabeth said, looking at the cookies cooling on the counter. "Go ahead, have one while they are still warm." Sara said nodding toward the cookies. "My…thank you." Elizabeth reached out taking the smallest one she could find. She'd just closed her eyes to take the first bite when there was a knock at the front door.

"Whoever could that be?" Christine turned to watch Sara walk to the front door, opening it there stood Raoul, and behind him….his father. Christine felt dizzy. There was no where to go. The back staircase was jammed with trunks and suitcases on their way to the carriage, the front stairs led right by the front door. She was stuck. "Do come in" she heard Sara saying to the new arrivals. Christine froze, cookie in hand, the bite she had taken sitting like stone in her mouth.

"Here, come, sit. Can I bring you a cup of tea?" Sara motioned towards the dining room table. "Thank you, that shan't be necessary," The senior De Chagny couldn't finish his sentence, Sara had shushed him with her hands, making her way to the tea pot. She'd been expecting a visit although much later, and had pulled out her finest china pot, and cups. She carried it back to the table, pouring a cup for him. Sara smiled at Raoul as she poured his cup, glancing down at the broach and back up at Raoul. She walked back to the counter, retrieving several small plates, and a platter of the cookies that were barely cooled. "I regret that Madame Giry and Meg have gone to the Opera House." Raoul's father set his cup of tea back in its saucer. "If you don't mind, we'll wait, if it is not an imposition?" Sara shook her head "no…no imposition at all."

Christine let out a silent gasp. She didn't want to move, hoping not to be noticed. She heard Erik coming down the stairs behind Joseph. "This is the bag that I want on top, the other there will ride in the carriage with us." He said pointing to the one that was heavily embroidered. He glanced over at Christine, instantly knowing something was desperately wrong.

He tilted his head, slightly furrowing his brow, and then he heard it…voices in the other room. He glanced back at Christine, and then at the door. Christine looked as though she would faint, her chest not moving, she wasn't breathing. Erik looked her sternly in the eye, sucking in a deep deliberate breath and exhaling, nodding at Christine to do the same. She blew out the air she had in her lungs and sucked in a deep, sharp breath. Erik never broke eye contact. Moving slowly, quietly toward her, he grasped her hand, squeezing it tightly. He stared at her intently, not saying a word. His very presence calmed her somewhat. He held her hand just staring into her eyes, slowly her heart beat slowed, their pulses mingling. Their hearts beating, and breathing in unison.

Christine heard Sara say "yes, they are up and about, fine elderly couple they are, though I'm afraid not very well" Sara said in a sort of half-whisper. "I'll check, perhaps they could join you while you wait for Madame Giry." Christine stared again at Erik, eyes wide with trepidation. He squeezed her hand hard, nodding. She knew there was no way out, only a way through now…..they would have to face them….together.

**Author's Notes:**

**Captain Oblivious:** I concur with your statements. A golden thread linking the ages… To those who do not love and embrace literature, it sounds a bit "corny" but to those of us who love it….it makes perfect sense! The "masses" shan't ever know what pure pleasure they are missing! Yes, Sara, she is old but would dare not make such an omission! However, the person she shared it with, is ummm…a bit distracted! Now, I hope you have some decaf coffee perked…the coming chapters are going to be, ummm….how shall I put this…rather interesting!

**Waytoointoerik**: Work can wait, sleep can wait….oh no, I'm afraid I've sucked you into my cyclone! I am so often up into the wee hours, something like a bat or some other nocturnal creature, a very slave to the words that drive me. I'm waytoointoerik myself, please forgive me. I hope you enjoy what's coming next..pins and needles, pins and needles…..


	47. Surreal

Chapter 47 Surreal 

Madame Giry took one last glance around the Opera House. Mr. Firmin had been gracious, wishing she and Meg the best, assuring her it would be at the most two months. Meg had wandered up to the dorms and was making her way back down the stairs to meet her mother.

Meg had been crying, Madame Giry wiped the tears that rolled down her cheek. "It will be alright Meg, it will be alright." She pulled her daughter to her hugging her as she did when she was a child. Meg sighed, nodding her head on her mother's shoulder.

"Oh my!" Meg pulled away from her mother. "I forgot to warn them!" Madame Giry glanced at her, concern overtaking her expression. "Forgot to warn who?" Meg looked toward the large wooden doors that led out of the auditorium. "Mother, they are visiting this afternoon, Chri…I mean Elizabeth and Stephan will want to be gone when they arrive….perhaps a bit of shopping as an excuse." Madame Giry said "who is coming for a visit?" "Raoul" Meg said, grabbing her mother's hand and moving quickly toward the door. "We should have time, but they'll be cross with me for not having told them sooner."

Madame Giry nodded, as the two of them moved as rapidly down the stairs and toward the Opera House as they could in their long skirts.

XXXXXXX

Sara came into the kitchen, Erik had let Christine's hand drop limply to her side. "Will that be all sir?" She heard the hansom say to Stephan. He nodded. "Then I shall wait for your direction." Joseph said, closing the door behind him.

"Oh good, the two of you together! Come, I've someone for you to meet." Sara grabbed Elizabeth's hand leading her out into the dining room. She turned looking desperately at Erik. He just nodded and motioned to her to lower her head. "Sir, are you going to join us?" Sara looked over her shoulder at Stephan. He followed them slowly out into the other room.

Raoul and his father stood to greet the couple. Raoul was the first to extend his hand to Elizabeth. Her husband quickly stepping in front of her to shake Raoul's hand. He could never have allowed Raoul to touch Christine's hand, it would have been much too familiar. Raoul looked a bit taken back, but then decided Stephan was likely just an over protective husband….something he would have been with Christine.

Raoul's father could not help but notice the horrific disfigurement that covered one side of Stephan's face. He looked away, the intensity of it too much to bear. His family had been spared the normal military service, and he could not imagine having to live with such hideousness in the name of serving one's country. If the side he exposed was this disfigured, what must the other side, kept hidden well by bandages look like? He'd seen many injured men, but none so cruelly scarred…that lived to tell of it.

Raoul's father in turn shook his hand. The five of them taking a seat at the table, Stephan helping Elizabeth to sit. Normally Christine would have thanked Erik, but she was planning to say as little as possible. Silently, Erik was relieved.

Sara tried to intervene in the introductions. "This is Monsier De Chagny, and his son the Vicomte De Chagny and this is Madame Giry's uncle and aunt, Stephan and Elizabeth Courtland. "A pleasure to meet you both" Erik said. Christine didn't even recognize the voice that came out of her husband. Surely if it fooled her, it would fool them.

"You must forgive my wife…she's not herself today." Sara looked at Elizabeth strangely, having just had a lively conversation with her minutes before. She wasn't sure why, but she sensed that the older woman was keenly uncomfortable around the two visitors.

"So, you are taking our Madame Giry and her daughter Meg to the country with you?" The senior De Chagny said, making idle conversation now, for what would a peasant farmer know of the city.

"Yes, that is our intentions as there will be no need for her here at the present time. We shan't mind the help with planting the garden, and arranging the house for the spring." Stephan tried to make his sentences short, but not so short as to call suspicion.

"Courtland, is that English?" The senior De Chagny inquired. "No, Scottish" Erik said a bit of irritation in his voice. He hoped that this line of questioning would cease soon, as he would provide as little information as possible to the men at this table. Christine looked down at her hands desperate to find some way to get out of the room, but knowing full well there was no way out.

Sara said "Elizabeth, would you help me in the kitchen for a moment?" Christine was relieved…she nodded and stood with Sara. In that instant Erik didn't know what to think. He could barely stand to sit in the room with these men, and didn't want Christine more than a few feet away from him…he promised to protect her.

Sara closed the door behind them once they were in the kitchen. "Is everything alright Elizabeth?" Christine could feel a large lump in her throat. Sitting at the table with both Erik and Raoul was more difficult than she could have ever imagined. How terrible the feelings that welled inside of her. She had betrayed Raoul, had loved Erik, had been engaged…accepted a proposal from both men…had married…loved one. She nearly wished she was once more the innocent chorus girl she'd been the year before, taking lessons from her mysterious tutor, staying up late telling stories with Meg…how simple her life had been. She fought the urge to run out the back door and blend into the throngs on the streets of Paris.

"Mam?" Sara touched her hand. Christine was pulled to reality from her deep thoughts. "I am alright….it's just that….well," she had to think fast. "Monsieur De Chagny knew a relative of mine…years ago…" Sara looked at her curiously. Christine was pulling from the stories that Raoul had told her of his father. "A woman, that he courted….it did not end well."

Sara gave Elizabeth a knowing look. "I understand, men often trifle with young girls affections," Sara said, shaking her head. "I've heard stories myself of his philandering and that's at his age now…one can only imagine what he was like in his youth." Sara and Elizabeth stood staring at the floor. "Well, we can stay in here a bit, and bring out some cream and lemons for the tea, a fresh plate of the scones that are in the oven. That will give us a few minutes away" Sara reached out and touched Elizabeth's shoulder, giving her a gentle smile. Elizabeth returned the glance with a polite "thank you."

The three men sat silently sipping tea from their emptying cups. It was an uncomfortable silence. Erik felt rage, a deep rage swelling in him, and he had to talk his way out of jumping to his feet, pulling a sword, and telling both men that Christine was his, had always been his, and that they should stop pursuing them. But, he sat in silence, the perfect picture of a demur older gentleman.

"When shall you be departing?" Raoul broke the silence. "This very afternoon I'm afraid. My lungs will do well to be back where it is a bit more dry. The smoke and soot in the city makes it difficult to…to…" Erik broke off into a coughing fit. He tried as hard as he could to make it sound pitiful, gut-wrenching. Raoul and his father sat looking at one another helpless to do anything for the old man.

Sara came in out of the kitchen with a hot pot of tea, quickly pouring a cup and offering it to Stephan. He took it gratefully, sipping it between coughs. Sara sat down at the table with the men, trying to liven up the conversation, sensing that an uncomfortable silence had descended upon them. "Yes, it will be sad to see them off, but they promise they will return for a visit when Meg and Madame Giry return." Sara said with a slight smile, knowing full well that she was making that up, but not really knowing what else to say.

XXXX

Meg and Madame Giry reached the inn, they were both out of breath from traveling so quickly. As they opened the door Meg was already calling out for Sara. "In here child, in here."

Meg slowed, her mother nearly running over the top of her, the two women gasping as they entered the dining room to see Erik sitting at the table with the two men. Raoul and his father stood in proper greeting, and slowly Erik joined them. Just then the kitchen door swung open and Christine came out carrying a plate of scones. There in that room the electricity flew among them. Some knowing why, others not. Sara glancing back and forth at her guests, pulled up several chairs from the wall, and invited Meg and Madame Giry to sit.

"Monsieur De Chagny, Vicomte…" Madame Giry began I see you have met my uncle Stephan. Raoul nodded, turning to look at Meg. Meg smiled politely, tilting her head just slightly downward, then glancing sharply up at Christine, lips agape. Christine was looking with fiery eyes at Meg, and at Raoul as she saw him smile back at Meg.

Christine was feeling jealousy, and she didn't know why…she was a married woman….she shouldn't be… Christine swallowed hard and glanced at Erik whose eyes were fixed on her. This was so unbearable. Christine felt herself getting hot, lights flickering before her eyes…too much…too much. She sat the plate of scones on the counter, grabbing at the surface, clutching it for all she was worth. Sara stood, going to her, and guided her to a chair next to Stephan.

"Mam, sit here, I'll get you a glass of cool water, do not exert yourself." Madame Giry, trying to divert attention from Christine and Erik said "I've delivered my information to Mr. Firmin this morning, a map for when the time is such that you are ready for our return" she said distracting the elder De Chagny.

"Good" he turned looking at Madame Giry. "We've just begun meeting with a group of men who will begin to assess the work that needs to be done. We hope the interior will be cleaned and ready for construction within the month. There is much to be done before a new stage can be built. Swarovski is busy already cutting crystal for the new chandelier, several hundred thousand crystals will take a lengthy time to prepare." Madame Giry nodded.

Raoul had not taken his eyes off of Meg. He had noticed her of course, talked to her many times with Christine, but never had really looked at Meg. She was pretty, and shy, well raised…he shall want to keep track of Meg…as her friend….as Christine's friend…he'd want to know she was alright.

Erik had reached out and was holding Christine's hand under the table now. She clutched it in a death grip, longing for their private moments in the cave…of the time they spent on the rooftop…in the cemetery…in the caverns dancing on their wedding night.

Sara was relieved that the conversation seemed to be flowing now, and set about refilling everyone's cup of tea, she rearranged the scones and clotted cream, and went to fetch more cookies, though the plate hardly needed refilling.

Erik felt himself moving into another world as he listened to De Chagny describe how they were going to change some of the things at the Opera House, adding some new acoustical refinements, additional seats…. His opera house would be changing, not under his direction, no notes were to be left making suggestions, he had no control over the architectural changes that were being made….he felt completely out of control.

He'd not expected these emotions. He'd been so focused on the intimate part of his life, the life he'd not known before, that he had spent little thought on his other life, the life as the director, creator, architect, of the opera house. In any other circumstance, in a real world, he would be able to express his incense at the changes they were making. Yes, it would be men sitting around a table, dark mahogany walls surrounding them, a large fire crackling in the marble fire place, hands full of snifters of the finest brandy, aromatic cigars and the like. But this was not Erik's world…he was not a respected architect…not a gifted musician…..not in the world's eyes anyway.

"Monsieur, Monsieur…" Christine squeezed Erik's hand, bringing him out of his illusion. "When did you say you'd be leaving? Would you have time to join us for dinner before you depart?" Erik stammered a moment, not having been listening to the conversation previous to this one, he was momentarily at a loss for words. He glanced around at those round the table, and managed "we are leaving this very afternoon…" then he began another of his coughing fits, hoping to disrupt the conversation.

"Uncle," Meg reached out for his shoulder. "Would you like to retire for a nap before we are on our way?" Erik had one hand covering his mouth, holding up the other to pause. He nodded before he began coughing again. Meg immediately stood, moving toward him, helping him to his feet.

Christine not knowing if it would look suspicious if she went with him, stood briefly before sitting down again. Both Raoul and his father were on their feet, their backs turned to Christine. How odd their profiles looked nothing alike. Raoul was slightly shorter than his father, a stockier built frame, shoulders slightly narrower, his coifed red hair. Christine felt a bit odd in those brief moments, a furrow forming on her brow…Raoul's father had a poise, a stature that seemed familiar, his dark hair trimmed at the nape of his neck, his broad shoulders under the thick black overcoat, long and lean as his shoulders were slightly turned, it resembled something she'd seen...it was too familiar…"

Meg moved with Erik up the stairs, Raoul watching them all the way until they disappeared. "Meg will be a fine helper for you Mrs. Courtland. It appears that she is rather fond of her uncle." Raoul said turning to face Elizabeth. She managed weakly to say "yes, rather fond," her voice barely above a whisper, and a bit gravely.

Raoul looked at her with a strange glance, igniting fear in her heart. Had he sensed her tone? Her pulse quickened, her mind began to race. Raoul stood, walking toward her reaching into his pocket for something. Her eyes grew wide, she held her breath as his hand reached toward her face. Madame Giry's eyes wide now too, Raoul's actions sending a shiver up her spine…had he recognized her?.

"Here Madame, allow me to…" he reached out dabbing the handkerchief under Christine's nose. She shuddered. He drew the cloth away from her face, just slightly for her to see that it was stained with blood, Christine gasped. Raoul glanced over at Sara who was at once on her feet at Elizabeth's side. Raoul handed the handkerchief to her, a deep concern on his face. "Perhaps Elizabeth would benefit from a bit of rest herself before they depart" he suggested.

Madame Giry stood and walked over to Elizabeth saying "come, let me help you, we shall take care of that." Christine only nodded, not daring to speak, just having now been able to breath again.

She felt light headed, so that needing assistance would not be an act at all, she felt her knees weak beneath her as she stood, clasping Madame Giry's hand and shoulder. The elder De Chagny rising again as the two women departed up the stairs.

Sara, Raoul, and his father sat down as the room emptied. "Pitiful…." Said the senior De Chagny. "It is truly fate…" Raoul said, "they would have been needing to call for Meg and her mother for assistance this Spring, as their health is obviously failing…they would have needed to travel to the country…so perhaps this opportunity will allow them to do so without guilt of leaving the ballet without a mistress."

Raoul's father nodded his head in agreement. "Sara, thank you for the tea" Raoul's father was on his feet, reaching for his cloak. Raoul rose to his feet as well. His father turning to him said, "it is time that we were at the police office, final reports being due to be presented" Raoul nodded. "I'll be along in a moment, I should like to speak with Meg before I take my leave." His father looked at him inquisitively, but nodded once in ascent. "Good day Madame" he said as he put on his cloak and left, a cold draft swirling in the room as the door closed behind him.

Raoul turned to Sara, "could you retrieve Meg for me?" he asked. "Yes, I can…and may I say thank you for this lovely gift" she said running her hand over the glittering broach. "I've not had such a fine gift since my husband passed on." Sara said looking down at the jewelry as the light reflected off it as it moved in her hand.

Raoul thought to himself it was such a trifle, twenty francs or so, a simple trifle…but he was glad that it brought her pleasure…she'd offered him such motherly comfort the day before. "You are most welcome Madame, it was most generous of you to have allowed my visit yesterday, and for taking care of these two woman." He smiled at Sara.

"It's been no trouble, no trouble at all." She paused then stood walking toward the stairs "I'll fetch miss Meg for you. Sit, have a cookie…I'll be back in a few minutes." Raoul sat, looking at the plate heaped with chocolate drop cookies. Smiling he reached out and selected one, taking a bite. The first taste melting into his tongue…they were wonderful. His kitchen staff never prepared cookies like this, simple hard biscuits suitable for teas yes, but nothing as sweet and sinful as these…it reminded him of something a mother would make for her children…something he'd been deprived of for a good many years.

Erik thanked Meg for her assistance. "Do come and tell me when they've gone. We must be on our way." Erik said now standing fully within the safety of his room. "But the hansom, he's not.." "Out in the back behind the inn." Erik interrupted. "We've to load our.." "Already done, everything is ready."

Meg looked down at her dress. She'd hoped to change before they left, but she'd have to travel in the dark grey wool she now donned. "Alright, I shall come back up for you when they've…." There was a gentle knock at the door.

"Meg?' Sara called out. "Yes?' she responded. "Meg, the Vicomte would like to speak with you before he leaves." There was silence. "I'll be there in just a moment, do tell him?" "Alright, you'll be right down then?" Sara inquired. "Yes, I'll be right there." Erik motioned with his hand for Meg to go. She realized this was the first time they'd been alone in a room together…and she hadn't been terrified…it was a start. Meg left the room and wandered down the stairs behind Sara.

Raoul rose from his chair, wiping the crumbs from his jacket. Sara smiled as she passed him and disappeared into the kitchen. Meg shyly walked toward Raoul, looking a bit embarrassed. This had been her friend's fiancé, and she felt ashamed that she blushed whenever he was in the room with her.

"Meg," Raoul said with a compassion in his voice that she'd not heard before. "Meg, I shall keep in contact with you and your mother. I know that you are concerned for Christine, and will want to know of our progress." Meg smiled at him, glancing up into his piercing blue eyes. She could see the deep pain that still lingered in them.

"We both miss her…I can tell you are hurting too…" Raoul continued. "I don't know what we shall do if we never find them…never know what happened….why…." Raoul could feel emotion welling in his chest, and he coughed trying to relieve it.

"It will be alright Raoul" his name seeming foreign on her tongue, to have spoken it so informally. "Tragedy has a way of healing in time, and perhaps we shall find some resolution" she smiled at him slightly.

Raoul looked far away now as he offered "I have a feeling he wouldn't harm her, physically anyway…but keeping her prisoner…not providing for her comforts….forcing her to be away from her fiancé, her family…we'll hope that it doesn't last forever for her…perhaps he will tire of her company and return her to us" Raoul said trying to look at Meg with optimism in his glance. Meg smiled "perhaps."

"In the meantime, please let me know if there is anything that I can do for your comfort….maybe you will come back to the city on occasion, when you've tired of the care for your aunt and uncle, when you are in need of conversation that does not contain talk of coughing or fainting spells! You are too young to be troubled with all of that now…indeed, you'll be in need of company more your age, if only for a brief reprieve."

Meg smiled, "I should like that very much." Raoul handed Meg a small envelope. "You may contact this hansom in Paris who will come to retrieve you should you need a brief escape from your work. He is an acquaintance of mine, who shall be alerted to your situation, and will pick you up whenever you wish to return to Paris." Meg smiled, "thank you Raoul." He reached down touching her hand, lowering his head he lightly kissed Meg's right cheek. "Do take care of yourself now….I'll let you know if we hear of anything…and you'll let me know if you need anything?" Meg nodded.

Raoul lifted his cloak to his shoulders, as Sara was walking back into the room. "Sara, again, my thanks" he said nodding his head towards her. "No trouble at all sir," she smiled moving toward him. "Here, I hope you don't mind taking a few of these with you…I'm afraid I made many more than I'd thought. I'd hped you might like them."

Raoul looked down at the neatly tied cloth, and could feel the weight of a dozen cookies in it. He smiled at Sara "thank you, they are a wonderful treat." Sara smiled as Raoul turned and walked toward the door, passing by Meg pausing slightly to look her in the eye once more and touch her hand. He passed through the door, shutting it tightly behind him.

Meg let out a gasp. Sara smiled at her "right handsome young man isn't he?" Meg blushed heavily as she realized she'd been staring at him the entire time. "Yes," she replied, pulling out of her stupor "I can see why Christine fancied him, he is most pleasant." Sara smiled as she went about clearing the cups and saucers from the table.

XXX

Behind the inn, Monsier De Chagny had just concluded his business with the hansom. He'd tucked a hundred francs into the man's pocket as he agreed to report anything suspicious on the road as they traveled. Joseph had heard of De Chagny's recent free-flowing good will, and didn't mind being privy to it. He smiled pulling the notes from his pocket as De Chagny disappeared around the side of the inn.

XXXXX

Upstairs, behind the heavy curtain in the the darkenened room, unbeknownst to either man, Erik had been watching the transaction. They would have to be extremely careful now, the very carriage they rode in was driven by a spy, one likely to be very loyal to his supporter. Erik was thankful that he had employed him for only part of the journey, it would make it more difficult for the group to be traced. Only to the Candlelight Inn, just past midnight they'd arrive. They would wait until the hansom departed before employing another. The rest could be decided later, for now, they simply needed to start out.

XXXXX

"Father?" Raoul sounded startled as he nearly collided with the senior De Chagny as he rounded the corner. "Son, good, you are finished. Let us be going to the police office, we shouldn't be late for the meeting we've called." Raoul's father lightly took hold of his son's arm, leading him down the street. "What were you doing in the alley?" Raoul said, now straightening his jacket, reclaiming his arm. "Just tending to a little business." His father replied, a small smirk on his face. "One can never have too many pairs of eyes open at times like these." Raoul glanced back toward the alley as they past, taking note of the horse and carriage that they'd passed. "I see" was all that Raoul said. "I guess it doesn't hurt." His father nodded at him, picking up his gate propelling them toward the offices some blocks down from the inn.


	48. Jealousy and the note

Chapter 48 Jealousy and the Note 

Meg had joined her mother in her room, passing Christine in the hallway as she did, neither woman uttering a word, or sharing a glance.

Madame Giry glanced up at her daughter as she came in. "Is Erik alright?" she whispered. "Yes mum, quite." Meg looked a bit flushed, coming to rest on the edge of the bed as her mother packed the last few toiletries into her small traveling case.

"Meg, is something wrong?" her mother came to rest beside her. Meg looked up at her, feeling a bit nauseated. "It's just that, well, I don't know, it's silly really…" Meg trailed off.

Her mother, noticing the small envelope in Meg's hand, asked "what's this?" Meg handed it to her without a word, nodding that it was o.k. to open it.

Madame Giry pulled out the single sheet of paper, it read "My dearest Meg, should you have need, you may summon Charles DeGaul, on Hawthorne Street. I've alerted him to pay high attention to any correspondence from you. Arrangements have been made for your safe passage as often as you like. Please let me know if you or your mother are in need of anything during your stay with your aunt and uncle. Raoul"

Madame Giry let her hands fall to her lap, note laid open. "Mother?" Meg said, "I'm feeling a bit ashamed now. Raoul believes Christine to be gone, perhaps out of his life…I know the truth, but could not tell him, and yet…somehow….I feel….I feel….Mother, is it wrong for me to find him handsome? Now that Christine is married…she'll not come back to him…is it wrong for me to think of him…."

Madame Giry put the note back into the envelope, tucking it inside her traveling case. She patted Meg's hand and stood looking about the room tracing everything with her eyes so as not to leave anything behind. "Come, we must go."

Madame Giry walked by a confused Meg. Her mother hadn't answered her question. She didn't know if she could face Christine after the conversation, after the glances, she knew Christine had watched between them. "I've done nothing wrong, nothing." Meg muttered under her breath. "She doesn't want him anymore, and I'll likely never see him again…" Meg blushed once more thinking of the kiss Raoul had placed on her cheek. It was all innocent enough, something the husband of her sister might have done….after all Christine was like a sister to her, and Raoul was like….. She stood, following her mother from the room.

Erik sat holding Christine in their room. It was quiet, dark. Thoughts running rampant in both their minds. Jealousy, rage, fear, questions. Erik heard the noise in the hall as Meg and her mother walked down the stairs.

"Come, we must go." He looked down at Christine. Her eyes were damp, wide, pleading… "Christine, soon this city will be a distant memory, we have a journey to our next night's rest, the longer we tarry, the later it will be."

Christine put her head to rest against Erik's chest, letting out a sob. Erik embraced her, running his hand up and down her back. "Shhhh…." Erik cooed in her ear. "It is hard…it has been so very hard….I know…time will heal this too my dear." He raised her chin so he could look into her eyes. He tenderly kissed her lips. She sunk into his embrace, returning his kiss, melting into his presence. His touch had the power to stop the present, to erase the past, to fill the future. "I love you Erik, I really, really, love you."

Erik pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her, nestling his face beneath her curls, against the warm flesh of her neck. Christine slid her hands around his neck embracing him. Pulling away long enough to kiss both of his cheeks, and once more kissing his lips. She looked down and put her hands into Erik's. He smiled at her, closing his hands around her small ones, warming them with his breath as he raised them to his mouth to kiss them. "I shall never leave you, remember that, shall never leave you." She smiled at him, eyes locked on his.

They rose, Erik giving her one last warm embrace, whispering something in French in her ear, giving it a quick warm kiss. She would learn to understand his phrases in time….she had the rest of their lives to do it. Holding hands now, they walked to the door, looking back at the room, smiling at each other, and departed.


	49. Come take a ride with me

Chapter 49 Come, take a ride with me 

Madame Giry and Meg were waiting at the bottom of the stairs, small travel bags in hand. Sara sat nervously at the table, patting the amply packed basket that was ready for them.

Christine and Erik moved slowly down the hallway, taking in each scent, each creak of the floorboards as they passed over them. This had been a safe haven, a honeymoon nest, and now it was time to leave it behind. Erik had one hand around Christine's shoulder, and she, her head in the crook of his arm. When they reached the top of the stairs, Erik leaned down and put his cloak around Christine, pulling her to him, he gave her one last passionate kiss. "My bride…bless you for loving me…for leading me from my solitude." Christine managed to smile before a single tear ran down her cheek. She looked into his eyes and whispered "it is you who saved me." Erik pulled her close, embracing her as though it was the last time he would ever lay eyes on her. Their last moment alone, as they turned, going down the stairs as Stephan and Elizabeth…the elderly Mr. & Mrs. Courtland.

"Uncle!" Meg rose, going to the stairs to meet Stephan as he came to the first landing. She gently took his arm, as he clung to the banister with his other. Elizabeth took hold of his cane, tucking it under her own. Step by step, they continued until they were at last in the room with Sara.

Sara rose, the first hint of tears showing on her face. She quickly brushed them away. They stood for a brief moment before Meg went to Sara and gave her a long hug. Sara let out a singular sob, patting Meg on the back. "Good travels to you Miss. You take good care of your aunt and uncle, and be a blessed helper to your mother." Meg said "I will Sara. I shall miss you…but perhaps I'll visit." Sara smiled, knowing Meg was making pleasantries.

Madame Giry next stepped in and embraced Sara. "Thank you for your generosity, your friendship. May your life be blessed because of the kindness you've shown." Madame Giry looked at Sara and then took her hand in hers and squeezed it reassuringly.

Stephan and Elizabeth did not move toward Sara, so she walked to them, gently hugging each one, so as not to harm their fragile state. "Mr. Courtland, it has been a pleasure having you and your family stay at my inn. When the Opera House is again ready for their arrival, I do hope you will come for a visit with your lovely wife." She smiled at Stephan who simply nodded to her. "Thank you Sara, it has been a most pleasant visit."

Elizabeth knew she needed to say something to this woman who had been their friend for so few days, yet had done so much for them. No words really could express her gratitude for her kindness. Sara turned, looking at Elizabeth, immediately going to embrace her. She whispered in her ear "do not worry my dear, everything will be alright once you're outside of the city." Sara pulled away smiling at her. Elizabeth was a bit confused ,but managed to say "thank you Sara, thank you so very much…for everything."

The group moved through the dining room to the back door in the kitchen where the hansom was waiting. Sara opening the door for them. Stephan went out first, taking each lady by the hand as she made her way down the two steps to the cobblestone alley.

Meg and Madame Giry helped Elizabeth into the carriage first, placing her in the seat facing forward. Stephan joined her next, struggling to climb in without falling. Meg helped her mother in, and then slipped in herself.

Sara leaned into the carriage tucking the basket in along the far wall between them. "God's speed to you, may your journey be safe, your travel swift, and all things work out as they should my friends." Sara wiped the tears from her face as she closed the door.

The carriage lurched forward and they were off. They rode in silence through the streets of Paris. The curtains partially open so that they could see out as they traveled. They noon-day sun streaming in as they went by the familiar markets, the seamstress shop that all, including Erik, had frequented. The bakeries, where wonderful scents of raising bread and cream filled pastries wafted into the carriage. The blacksmith shop, the leather shop, the library. All things familiar in the many years they'd spent in the city. Not one inside the carriage knew if they would ever see those things again.

The carriage jostled back and forth as the horse's hooves met the uneven ground moving out of the proper streets, and onto those that were a mix of both dirt and stone. Meg and Madame Giry had leaned back closing their eyes not wishing to look at this poorer part of the city. Had they not been blessed by living in the Opera House, they too might have found themselves in this section of housing, where cleanliness of the kind they were accustomed to did not exist.

Christine was still careful to hold her cloak over her head, but could not resist peeking out at the curious eyes that wandered back and forth to the carriage, some seething with jealousy, others now thoroughly annoyed with carriages rattling by their homes…there had been hundreds.

Erik sat unmoving, glancing out the window occasionally, and among the three women whose lives he was now responsible for. It was an odd sort of exhilaration really. He felt like a protective father, husband, brother, taking his brood to the country for the Spring. It felt, almost normal, something that would have been in the reality of a world he'd never known. "A gentleman, escorting his ladies" he half smiled to himself as his gaze wandered from Meg to Madame Giry, to his Christine.

They'd been traveling nearly half an hour when Erik shifted toward the window, the exposed flesh of his deformity, pressing against the glass. There was a great deal of commotion outside, as the carriage began to slow. He could hear horses, and men's voices were plentiful. "Good Sir, please allow us to inspect your carriage."

Erik sat straight up, tapping each lady with his finger, and raising it then to his lips as they stirred. Madame Giry looked wide-eyed at Erik not knowing what to expect. Christine had fallen asleep and was bleary eyed as she woke, her eyes too growing wide as she realized they were no longer moving, her eyes moving to Erik, searching him for direction.

Meg opened her eyes looking around to see Erik raising his finger to his lips once again, decided to slump back into the corner and feign sleep. The carriage tipped a bit back and forth as the hansom dismounted. Erik could hear muffled conversation not ten feet from them. Joseph's voice came through louder. "I tell you, this is a family traveling away from the Opera House, they've been at an Inn in the city."

There were footsteps toward the door, at least three pairs Erik decided. He heard the hand come up to the handle of the door, and then Joseph's voice again. "If you have questions regarding this family, you may talk to Monsieur De Chagny, he inspected them himself as the woman was his employee, the ballet mistress Madame Giry, her daughter and her aunt and uncle. If you'd like to dispatch a messenger to the Opera House, you may, I'm sure you'd find him their in one of his offices."

The hand pulled away from the door, Madame Giry breathing a sigh of relief, Christine relaxing back into Erik's shoulder. The man walked away with Joseph.

"We were instructed to inspect every carriage, every carriage no matter who it contained. These are unusual times good Sir, we cannot be too careful. We could wait for a messenger, or we could simply get this over with and inspect it now. If everything's in order as you say, you'll be on your way in a few moments time." There was a long pause. "Very well." Erik heard Joseph say.

Erik felt to make sure his bandages were still in order. Christine pulled the hood down even further. Madame Giry breathed deeply, trying to muster all of her stoic poise. The stones beneath the boots of a half-dozen men came to the side of the carriage. "On one condition sir," Joseph said "the older pair should not have to remove themselves, it is so difficult for them to get in and out."

The door flung open, the full light of day spilled in. Meg was still pretending to be asleep in the corner, when she felt a hand on her knee. "Miss, Miss…" Madame Giry nudged her daughter. "Meg dear, wake up." Meg opened her eyes slightly, yawning sleepily said "are we here already, my that was a fast…." She paused. "Mother, why are we stopped here?" Again she heard "Miss, please give me your hand." She looked down at the extended hand, realizing there was no other choice. Her mother nodded so she took the hand and allowed the young officer to help her out of the carriage.

She tried not to look startled as her first foot hit the ground. There were several dozen horses, carts and carriages that formed a barricade to the road out of the city. There were dozens more officers performing various duties in the distance, her focus now was on the dozen or so that were surrounding them now as she disembarked. "Thank you, she said, as the hand released hers.

Next came out Madame Giry, looking irritated, her eyes darting towards Joseph. "What is the meaning of this?" she said, looking at the officer who now held her hand to assist. "We're under orders to search all carriages coming and going from the City" he said coldly, trying to maintain the upper hand, sensing that her age and demeanor superceded his own. "Hmmp" she replied, coming to rest next to her daughter.

"And the others?" an older officer came walking forward talking to Joseph. He was about to speak when Madame Giry interrupted. "They are my aunt and uncle, Mr. & Mrs. Stephan Courtland. It is difficult for them, given their age to…." The older officer, Mr. Quinn, now moved forward, coming face to face with Madame Giry, stern look in his eye. "I don't care if they are the King and Queen of England, Madame, they'll acquiesce to this search, if I have to remove them from the carriage myself!"

Erik swallowed hard, glancing at Christine. He'd always been more comfortable in shadows, how he longed now for the dark recesses of the Opera House. The full noon-day sun was shining, every eye examining them for any trace of impropriety.

Christine had lowered her head, knowing that these moments could alter their life forever. She glanced over at Erik, hoping to see comfort, reassurance in his eyes, but there was none.

A pair of young officers entered the carriage, the first immediately averting his eyes when he saw Erik's exposed flesh. "Sir, we must inspect this carriage," he said, a more respectful tone than the man outside the carriage took. "Very well" Erik said, his voice hoarse and gravely. "Elizabeth, my dear, it is alright for you to go first" he said looking over at her.

The two young men carefully assisted Elizabeth down the steps of the carriage, being as respectful as they possibly could, feeling guilty for having to dislodge her after seeing she could not right herself fully, leaning heavily on her cane. General Quinn searching her with his eyes, looking at her clothing, her cane, her hood. He walked toward her, peering under it, Christine straining her eyes, pulling upon her most strained face to greet his. "Madame," he reached out his hand to hers and led her over to a small bench to one side. Christine followed, shuffling her feet a bit, until she was fully seated.

The other two had again disappeared inside the carriage. A large amount of shifting and rocking came from the inside, and hoarse coughing. First one young officer climbed out, hands extended, then Stephan's cane emerged, followed by a foot and arm. He groaned loudly as his torso and last leg came down to rest on the first step. For full affect Erik knew he had to distort his features, opening his marred eye as far as he could, he raised his head as his face lifted toward the onlookers.

A gasp rose from the group as they saw the flesh that looked as though it had been melted by the heat of a great explosion. Almost all averted their eyes, looking at one another, or at the ground. General Quinn did not, he walked forward and stood several feet away from the three until the coughing had stopped and Stephan was flat footed on the ground himself.

"And whom am I addressing?" Madame Giry stepped forward, attempting to answer, the General raising his hand indicating she should stop. "Whom am I addressing?" he said again, looking Erik right in the face. Oh how Erik wanted to lunge forward, to make the man pay for his indignity. He fought this urge, as his rage grew within him. "TO WHOM DO I SPEAK!" General Quinn shouted in his face, droplets of spit spraying Erik's face.

Joseph stepped forward, feeling a bit protective now, most assured that Monsieur De Chagny would not approve of this harassment. Erik started to cough, a deep throaty cough, phlegm rising to his lips, he spat it out, inches from General Quinn's boot. The General looking at him, now seething with anger that he had to push this old fool this far to elicit a reply.

Erik looked up, tilting his head slightly, exposing the most hideous part of his face to the General. He began, in slow, labored breaths "I am Stephan Courtland and that…." He paused, raising a shaky cane-filled hand towards Christine "is my wife Elizabeth" he lowered it, almost dropping the cane, one of the young officers reaching out to keep him from falling. This was almost torture for everyone watching, something akin to watching an old dog being beaten for involuntary disobedience. General Quinn never wavered.

Erik coughed several more times, a wheeze rising from his lungs. "That is my niece….Madame Giry……ballet mistress…." Erik slouched just a bit, struggling under the weight of his own frame, the second young officer coming to his aid.

"Take him over there" General Quinn said, pointing his arm sharply toward a bench on the other side of the barricade, "I should like to question him further." The first young officer put his hand under Erik's armpit, uttering a quiet "I'm sorry sir" under his breath. The second officer grabbing Erik's other elbow.

The people surrounding this torture began to rustle around and dissipate, the show hopefully now over, most shaking their heads as they hung toward the ground, some muttering things like "cruel", "unnecessary", "disrespectful." None liked or respected General Quinn, he was a henchman of sorts for De Chagny, but all feared him, and none questioned his methods…at least not to his face. An officer led Madame Giry and Meg each to a separate bench, yards away from one another. They would be interrogated, one-by-one.

General Quinn motioned with his arms for the officers to leave he and Stephan alone. The officers retreated ten yards or so. Quinn came down to rest next to Stephan, looking him in the eye, searching the skin that faced him, red and raised, pock marks dotting the surface. "Sir, I meant no harm in addressing you" he began. "Surely a man such as yourself, having obviously witnessed great horrors, should understand the need for compliance, to keep a proper tone with one's troops."

Stephan nodded, coughing just slightly. "Now, do tell me, what are your plans…where is it that you and your family are headed now, and where have you come from?" Stephan began, slowly, deliberately, explaining why they had come for a brief visit, how the tragedy in Paris had altered their plans, and how they were now returning to their spring home, Courtland Manor, with Meg and Madame Giry until the Opera House was rebuilt.

It took some time, as Erik paused, coughing, wheezing. The General had motioned for an officer to bring a cup of coffee to them, he then offering it to Stephan. "It is most difficult to care for one's family, traveling with three women should prove to be a bit of a chore, listening to their infernal chattering!" Quinn now trying to joke a bit with Stephan.

Erik was masterful, disguise had been his survival, and now it appeared he was passing the muster of the General's test. "Rest here, Mr. Courtland. I've a bit to discuss with my men, and then you'll be on your way." He stood, walking toward Madame Giry.

Erik breathing in and out rapidly, shallowly, hoping none would notice the relief in his posture. He was at once grateful that the four of them had discussed there plans in detail, each should have no trouble replicating the information that Erik had now provided. Erik's eyes wandered to Meg, who was chatting with one of the young officers, flirting even, Erik wanted to chuckle, but did no such thing.

He could only see the outline of Christine's huddled frame. She sat, her hood facing toward the ground, it appeared she was resting her head on her cane. How he wished to go to her, to comfort her….there would be time for that later in the carriage.

The questioning seemed to take forever. Several other officers had searched the contents of the basket in the carriage, had opened several of the trunks, and finding women's garments inside, along with personal items, had quickly closed them. They tarried a bit too long on the underside of the carriage, making Erik nervous. He had hid his sword and part of his funds under a flap beneath the carriage, and the officer's hands had run over it several times. When it seemed they were satisfied, they closed the carriage door, and walked back to the group of men who now assembled by the fence, awaiting further instructions from General Quinn.

At last he came to rest next to Christine. "Madame Courtland?" Christine nodded. "Do tell me of your plans. From where have you come, and to where are you traveling now?" Christine's mouth was dry, her throat was dry, it added a layer of pretense she was thankful for now. "My husband and I were paying a surprise visit to see Meg in the Spring production at the Opera House. We arrived to find the Opera House in ruins, and Meg and my niece Madame Giry, quite without a home." Christine paused, gasping for breath. "My dear Stephan is not well, and I tire in caring for him, as it is sometimes quite a chore, the bathing, the dressing….." Christine hung her head a bit more. "Madame Giry was willing to help us open up Courtland Manor for the Spring, and I'll appreciate the help." She stopped, not wanting to say any more.

General Quinn looked down, trying to get a better glimpse of this woman, who seemed did not want to come out from beneath that hood. He was reaching out toward it when he was distracted by a loud pounding of hooves in the distance. Christine coughed, trying to keep her mind from reeling…if he finds me, he will find Erik, and God knows what will happen….her mind raced to the hiding place, the rock, the tunnels…could she find her way there if she needed to?

General Quinn stood, abruptly walking away from her, moving instead toward the direction of the incoming horses. She glanced up to see what was happening. "Reinforcement?" she thought to herself. But as her eyes rose she was immediately aware of who was coming. The first in the group was a large white steed, a magnificent creature, that belonged to only one man….Raoul. She didn't know whether to be relieved or horrified….was he there because they suspected…or because of the messenger that departed as soon as they had been stopped to be searched.

Officer Quinn nodded to Raoul as he dismounted the horse, the two of them walking a short distance away from the others. She could see Raoul's stance and being quite familiar with his body language, sensed that he was angry. She could see General Quinn lowering his head nodding, as he turned and began walking back toward where Madame Giry, Erik, and she sat sitting on separate benches.

Raoul stood watching him and then turned and walked toward Meg. Meg had been watching Raoul, the other officers whom she had been chatting with, now forgotten. Christine saw as Meg smiled at him as Raoul joined her on the bench. She saw as Meg blushed, and as Raoul reached out and briefly touched Meg's hand. She wished she could hear what they were saying, but the distance was too great. It was probably best she decided, this jealousy made no sense at all….she was Erik's wife….and this sentiment served no purpose now. She looked away, glancing toward Erik, who had been staring at her, for how long she didn't know.

General Quinn had walked back to the group of men who stood by the fence, dispensing verbal orders, the men each retreating to their tents. Quinn walked back toward Stephan. He looked more contrite than he had been just an hour before as he had shouted questions in his face, no doubt his demeanor had changed because of the Vicomte's arrival.

Several officers now moved over to Madame Giry and Christine, helping them to stand and moving them over and into the carriage. Erik glanced once more at Christine, who was now chatting quietly with Madame Giry, as women in those circumstances would normally do.

General Quinn stopped now in front of Stephan, addressing him. "Sir, the Vicomte has confirmed your information, and has made arrangements for you to have an escort to your next stop, so that no further interruptions will be made to your journey." He looked down a bit, realizing he had overdone the search, much to the displeasure of the De Chagny family. "I'll have the officers assist you into the carriage." He turned and walked away. The two young officers were immediately at Stephan's side.

As he slowly walked, stumbled back to the carriage, he caught site of Meg and Raoul sitting on the bench together quietly talking, a brief smile crossing both of their faces. He knew that this site had to pain Christine, no doubt the explanation for the long glances and few words that moved between the pair of young friends this last day. It would be a decidedly long ride to the Inn he thought to himself, as he was hoisted into the carriage by the officers, coming to rest now next to Christine.

The three of them sat in silence, waiting for Meg to join them. Christine reached out her hand from beneath her skirt, and grasped Erik's, squeezing it. He looked over at her and nodded, glancing over to Madame Giry and did the same. He then leaned his back and head against the wall of the carriage and closed his eyes. He still was unaccustomed to having his face exposed. Today he felt as though he were on display just as he had been when he was held captive by those gypsies. Now his face had saved him….that hideous face had helped him live.

Several minutes passed before footsteps were heard outside of the carriage. Christine could make out Meg's voice, a little laugh confirming it was her. Then she heard Raoul's voice, and realized that he must have escorted her to the carriage. The door opened briefly, and a hand helped her in. She smiled saying "thank you."

Erik's eyes now open again, sitting somewhat erect. Raoul leaned into the carriage saying "you shan't have any more interruptions to your trip tonight. These men will provide an escort for you so you won't be bothered." With that Raoul smiled at them, giving Meg a touch on the knee, he shut the door. Erik could hear him saying something to the hansom, and then click his tongue. The carriage lurched forward, this time flanked in the front and rear by four officers on horseback.

Soon the gentle rocking of the carriage returned. Meg sat slumped in one corner, gazing out the window, face lacking expression. Madame Giry was on her other side doing the same. Erik was turned, back facing into the corner, staring at Christine. Christine was leaned back into the last corner, looking at the ceiling. No one knew quite what to say, and none wanted to be the first to break the silence.

After a long while, Erik noticed that Madame Giry and Meg had dozed off, their breathing becoming shallow and even, heads tilted toward their chests.

Christine was looking out the window now, thoughts racing through her head. It was the unhappiest he'd seen her look in days….it reminded him of those times when he would try to cheer her when she was in the dormitories feeling lonely.

He reached out with one hand, grasping her hand, and pulling it into his lap, palm lying face up. She looked at Erik inquisitively. He began lightly tracing hearts into her palm with his index finger. He did not look up, but focused solely on moving his finger back and forth in her hand, tracing and retracing.

Christine felt the iciness of minutes ago dissolve as the palm of her hand began to shudder, a tickle running up her arm. Erik could feel her tensing, and the feeble attempts to reclaim her hand. He glanced up, a small twinkle in his eye as he realized she was smiling at him, shaking her head back and forth trying to say no. He smiled in return and began tracing the hearts larger, working up her arm, onto her shoulder, her neck. Soon he could take it no longer, he slid next to her, pulling her chin up into his hand he tilted her head backwards, and gave her a tender, longing kiss.

Christine's breath left her. She felt drawn to him, knowing full well she could do little about it now. She glanced over to the other side of the carriage where Meg and Madame Giry sat sleeping. Smiling at Erik, she slid beneath his cloak, and nestled into his arms, resting her head on his chest. Erik smiled wrapping his arms around her, draping his cloak so that all that could be seen was a small opening for her to peek out. Underneath that cloak, Christine loosened Erik's cravat and pushed her cheek against the skin of his chest. Making Erik tingle all over, and Christine flushed. He could feel the warmth of her breath on his skin, her soft hand caressing his chest and mid section lightly. She slid her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly before bringing one to rest in his lap, the other draped behind his back. They sat that way until Erik could feel that Christine had drifted off to sleep.

He glanced around, all the women were sleeping, he was in a carriage, he did not need to tend the travel, he was actually being escorted by armed officers….everything was going to be status quo for at least several more hours. He was safe, they were safe…he could actually rest….an odd thought for him. This was the safest they would likely ever be. He sighed heavily before leaning back and closing his eyes. It took him no time at all before he relaxed and fell into a peaceful, deep sleep.

**Author's Notes:**

Ahhh….finally out of Paris, but not without event! Sadly Sara is left behind now. She was the glue, the home base that held the group together during those first days. I know some have felt that they stayed a bit too long there, but every author has a purpose for what they do, and I hope, in time, it will all be clear!

**Mrs. Butler**: Welcome to the family! Oh how I enjoyed the thought of your tag name! I wonder how many women out there wish that they could claim that as their last name? If you are a Gerard fan because of the Phantom, you are (no pun intended) not alone! I'm rather thinking about taking that phan trip that is being planned for Scotland next year…can you just imagine? Hundreds of tarts wandering the streets of his childhood home! Anyway, back to the story. Thank you for the compliment. I can assure you updates will continue. I hope you enjoy the coming chapters!

**Ethalas Tuath'an**: Yes, they are finally out of Paris. If Sara has some later significance, I'd be foolish to tell you now, wouldn't I? (smiles mischievously) I hope you won't be disappointed with the next chapters. And, you might smile again, they are rather "Sara free".

**Glitter Queen of the Ice Show**: Yes, they are a sweet couple. They possess all the things that they need to keep a romance going. Can you imagine being in her shoes? Ahhh….I've just lost myself in thought again. Hope you like what's coming!

**Waytoointoerik**: Sorry I made your heart pound, but I'm glad that I made your afternoon! Yes, foreshadowing is a good tool isn't it? It lends a bit of mystery to a story, and just because something is mentioned doesn't mean it has to be used, it just makes things…shall we say….more intriguing? I hope you enjoy the next chapters! It was because of you that I posted three chapters today…I couldn't leave you hanging two days in a row!


	50. The long road

Chapter 50 The long road 

They had been traveling for hours. The afternoon sun had faded, a gray overcast now hung in the sky, early twilight was setting in. Joseph slowed the carriage down as they entered the tiny city. In just a few more hours they would be near their destination, a warm bath and hot supper. For now he needed to water and rest his horses, and stretch a bit himself. He pulled the carriage in to the first part of the city, stopping to inquire where he might rest his horses. After receiving directions, he turned the carriage around, and headed a few blocks to the East, before coming to a stop in front of an Inn. The manager motioned him to the back toward the stables.

Erik woke, stretching slightly, sensing Christine was now lying down in his lap. Looking beneath his cloak she reminded him of a small child who would come to rest in their father's lap..he smiled. Reaching over to the window, he pushed the heavy velvet curtain aside to reveal the gray sky with hints of blood orange and deep blue on the horizon. He knew they had to be at least most of the way there as the trees were growing larger, the streets narrower, and the houses were farther apart.

Meg and Madame Giry were no doubt still very tired as they slept as did Christine. There was knock at the door of the carriage, then the handle turned, a cool breeze swirling, breaking in the warm recesses of the carriage. Madame Giry's eyes opened, she straightened herself immediately, sorting out the folds of her dress. She reached over and put a hand on Meg's shoulder, the same way she'd been waking her up for nearly all of her life.

Joseph peered inside "anyone in need of a stretch? My legs are aching so I thought maybe yours would too." Joseph chuckled, realizing that he had woken everyone up. "The horses will be resting for a wee bit, so if you'd like a cup of tea, it would be a good time to do it."

Erik nodded, and Joseph shut the door. He could hear the officers dismounting, and leading the horses into the stables for water and rest. Madame Giry was digging in her travel case, pulling up the bottom and retrieving several francs. Meg sat still half asleep, stretching briefly, rather informally until she realized that Erik was staring at her. "I'm so sorry, I.." Meg mumbled, looking rather embarrassed.

"You are with family my dear, no apology is needed." Erik smiled at her. "We will all grow to be more comfortable with one another…in time." Meg smiled and nodded politely. A concerned look on her face she said "is Christine alright?" Erik chuckled a bit, raising the edge of his cloak to peek in at Christine who was now starting to stir. "Yes, the little kitten seems to be just waking now, having slept in my lap for some time."

Christine pulled herself up on Erik's shoulder, peering out from under his thick cloak. "Are we there….but it's still light?" Erik kissed her softly on the forehead, the most affection he'd ever shown her in the company of others. Meg and Madame Giry averted their eyes feeling as though they'd intruded on a private moment.

"No, we've stopped so that the horses might rest." Erik replied. "We can go in for a pot of tea if you'd like?" Erik offered, looking among the three women for some indication as to their wishes.

Madame Giry said "I think it would be good to walk a bit. A hot cup of tea does sound wonderful." Meg nodded. Christine looked up at Erik, "is this alright with you?"

Erik realized that Christine was concerned for him. It hardly mattered now that he was in public with his face exposed. He needed to grow accustomed to this, if they were to blend in. He was not the only man to have been "injured" in the war, or the like. Some would consider him lucky, having both eyes and all his limbs would be a blessing considering what happened to some….no…it could be far worse.

Erik was lost in this thought when the carriage door opened again, this time it was Madame Giry who did so, as she and Meg made their way out of the carriage. One of the officers seeing them fumbling with the stairs, rushed over to offer their hand and guide them out. Madame Giry closed the door behind them and she and Meg walked carefully on the path to the front of the Inn.

Erik turned to Christine who was rubbing her eyes and raising her arms above her head, elbows bent for lack of room. Erik uttered a low guttural growl as he slid over embracing her. She let out a small yelp, something akin to a childish squeal when one is caught unaware. He kissed her neck, his lips tracing her jaw line until he reached her lips. She was so beautiful…so beautiful….he loved her more than life itself. Even the small things, like the sight of her stretching made his love for her swell within him. She was relaxed, at ease, and he sensed that she was exactly where her soul longed to be….with him.

They would have to snatch moments alone wherever they could find them. It wouldn't be easy, but they would relish them. Christine pulled away from Erik, wide smile across her cheeks, eyes beaming. "Stephan…my dear husband…do you not want some hot tea, perhaps a bit of supp.." Erik laughed in her ear. "Sweet nectar, my dear what I would want more now than anything is sweet nectar, but alas…it isn't the season for it…so I shall settle for a cup of tea." Christine knew what Erik was trying to say, but the situation did not permit his true words.

He whispered into her ear "my dear, when we again depart, I shall have to ask that you sit next to me, instead of lying on my lap….it is much too difficult for me to, to…."

Christine smiled, giving him a platonic peck on the cheek. "I understand my dear, it is uncomfortable for you to ride in such a manner….I shall attempt to be more thoughtful from now on." She flashed a sarcastic smile at him…darned flirting.

Erik was proud of her, she was learning the art of masterful language, perhaps by his example. This would serve her well these next days until they found themselves at home, and quite at leisure to speak their minds freely. "Come, let us join Madame Giry and Meg." Erik opened the door slightly, and at once was greeted by one of the officers who extended a hand to assist as Christine came first, followed by Erik. He noticed that neither one would look him in the face as he descended. Whether it was out of respect or fear he knew not, but it made things much easier for them. Christine had been quite clever in her suggestion to bandage his face as he did. One could only wonder then what hideousness must lie beneath those bandages if the exposed side was so frightful. Yes, it indeed helped them.

Stephan and Elizabeth moved ever so slowly up the walk that snaked around to the front of the Inn. They could see the light from the house casting colored shadows on the snow, shades of violet, crimson, gold, and a deep emerald, as the candlelight passed through the ornate stained glass panes in the formal sitting room. This was no doubt where Meg and Madame Giry were, and they would join them there.

The night air was crisp, yet not a penetrating cold that they had known for months now. One could easily tell that they were getting closer to the sea, the winters being much milder in those areas. Soon they would be where snow barely clung to the last branches, Spring nipping feverishly at its heels.

The beautiful large mahogany doors were inlaid with stained glass; Christine admired them as they climbed the wide stairs to the front door. There was something urethral about how the light shone through them. It was like walking on the warm light of a rainbow, each colored shadow making whatever it touched appear changed. She glanced over at Erik, as the splashes of color changed with their every movement. She saw the man that he was, and the handsome man he could have been if he had been born perfect.

His stature, his poise, his fluid motions now hidden because of their temporary need for disguise. She silently hoped to herself that wherever they went, one day they could have a beautiful stained glass window. She would love to bask in the glow of it with her sweet husband, dancing on moonbeams of color and light. She was a hopeless romantic…she would one day have to tell their children of that too…their mother and father….both hopeless romantics….a perfect match.

Just inside the door there was a large polished white marble fireplace, a profuse glow radiating in the large foyer. There were two large wooden staircases that spiraled on either side, leading to the sleeping suites up above. To the right there were pocket doors, inlaid with ornate beveled glass, brass rimming each pane. To the left was a large room, filled with dark oversized furniture, a silver tray of snifters on a large mahogany table, several large crystal decanters filled with amber colored liquids, and yet another fireplace with a dark hearth, heavy carved statues lay on both sides, heads of large mounted beasts filled the walls leading to an ample set of recessed shelving containing volumes of literature, great works of brilliant authors.

Eric glanced at the room to the left and then at Christine, and to the French doors leading into the room on the right, and then back to Christine. She smiled, his question obvious even to this young bride. "It is alright" she said to him, nodding toward the room on the left. "You shall have to endure many long hours in the company of woman…it would be good for you to have a few minutes of solitude."

Erik smiled at Christine, leaning down and kissing her cheek, whispering in her ear "thank you my love." They exchanged one last glance, he departing to the left and she to the right, just as the gentleman in a black suit, and pressed white shirt entered the foyer. "Madame, Monsieur" he nodded his head.

Christine opened the doors to the right, to view a beautiful room with shiny marble floors and walls, leading up to a painted ceiling filled with angels and faint clouds, flowers and blue sky. It was more beautiful than some churches she had been in, each detail carefully stroked by the artist. A long delicate table lay beneath a large gilded mirror, large vases of flowers graced either side. A silver tray of trifles, small scones, and short breads next to a small stack of floral china plates.

Christine's eyes quickly taking in all of the white lace, the fine tapestries, the dainty couches and settees. In the alcove were four small tables with chairs, suitable for teas…Meg and Madame Giry occupied the one directly in front of the stained glass window Christine had been admiring from the outside just moments before.

Madame Giry rose to greet Christine, "come Elizabeth, please join us" she motioned to the table where a teacup and saucer were set out for her and her husband. Madame Giry looked behind Christine, realizing she had closed the door behind her. "Is Stephan not joining us?" she said, looking back at Christine now. Christine smiled saying "he preferred the solitude of the gentleman's room across the way. He saw the library and decided he would allow us a few moments of privacy." They all smiled at one another, realizing in his chivalry, he was really sparing himself.

Christine chose the chair facing the windows, wanting to enjoy them as the failing light changed to a soft amber glow, the sun making a final feeble attempt to shine before it set. Madame Giry reached over and poured Christine a cup of tea. Christine smiled up at her "thank you." Meg managed to smile coyly at Christine, who returned the smile. She couldn't be mad at Meg, she never could stay mad at her for as long as they'd known each other. Madame Giry's words rung through her head… "never let the sun set upon your anger…forgive…and start again new the next day." Madame Giry broke into her thoughts "cream or lemon dear?" Christine smiled at her, "neither thank you."

The women sat enjoying a few cookies, and a second pot of tea as the first was fully drunk. The room seemed to surround them in a serene envelope, and they enjoyed one another's company like they did in the old days when Christine would join Meg and her mother for tea in her dressing room.

Erik selected a thick black leather chair in front of the fire, removing his cloak, he laid it on the back of it. He wished he could say for certain that he was entirely alone, how he longed to stretch to his full height, and reach the leather bound volumes on the top shelf. Alas he looked at them, and decided to select a book from the middle shelves, one that a man his "age" could remove himself readily. He sunk into the chair, opening the cover he flipped through a few pages. "Ahhh….something familiar" he nestled in and began to read.

_**Tennyson, Alfred Lord . Lancelot and Elaine**_

_1: ELAINE the fair, Elaine the loveable,  
2: Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat,  
3: High in her chamber up a tower to the east  
4: Guarded the sacred shield of Lancelot;  
5: Which first she placed where morning's earliest ray   
6: Might strike it, and awake her with the gleam;  
7: Then fearing rust or soilure fashion'd for it  
8: A case of silk, and braided thereupon  
9: All the devices blazon'd on the shield  
10: In their own tinct, and added, of her wit,  
11: A border fantasy of branch and flower,  
12: And yellow-throated nestling in the nest.  
13: Nor rested thus content, but day by day,  
14: Ieaving her household and good father, climb'd  
15: That eastern tower, and entering barr'd her door  
16: Stript off the case, and read the naked shield,  
17: Now guess'd a hidden meaning in his arms,  
18: Now made a pretty history to herself  
19: Of every dint a sword had beaten in it,_

Those words were so familiar. He'd stayed up one entire evening reading those pages from the book the Madame Giry had given him. He flipped a few more pages, selecting parts here and there….some eerily poignant. The forbidden love, the unknown love, how it grew. He read on.

_In battle with the love he bare his lord,  
Had marr'd his face, and mark'd it ere his time._

_Another sinning on such heights with one,  
The flower of all the west and all the world,  
Had been the sleeker for it: but in him  
His mood was often like a fiend, and rose  
And drove him into wastes and solitudes  
For agony, who was yet a living soul.  
Marr'd as he was, he seem'd the goodliest man  
That ever among ladies ate in hall,  
And noblest, when she lifted up her eyes.  
However marr'd, of more than twice her years,  
Seam'd with an ancient swordcut on the cheek,  
And bruised and bronzed, she lifted up her eyes  
And loved him, with that love which was her doom_.

How oddly he felt as he read those lines. Christine had loved him in spite of his marred face. He'd feared that love would be her doom. He couldn't tear his eyes from the prose, flipping a few more pages, he read on.

_Not far from Camelot, now for forty years  
A hermit, who had pray'd, labour'd and pray'd,  
And ever labouring had scoop'd himself  
In the white rock a chapel and a hall  
On massive columns, like a shorecliff cave,  
And cells and chambers: all were fair and dry;   
The green light from the meadows underneath  
Struck up and lived along the milky roofs;  
And in the meadows tremulous aspen-trees  
And poplars made a noise of falling showers.  
And thither wending there that night they bode._

A chill ran up Erik's spine. He stood, nearly forgetting his pretense, and walked over to the decanter and poured an inch of liquid into a glass. He stood looking into the fire before returning to the chair, the glass having never touched his lips. That burning liquid provided an induced cloud of denial, he knew it well….but he had no use for it now. He had a wife to love, a family to protect. The biting words of Tennyson ringing in his ears. How they had shaped him, how they had talked to him in the darkness. Yet he could not help but return to it, a temptation he could not resist. He lifted the book, and began again.

_But when the next day broke from underground,  
And shot red fire and shadows thro' the cave,  
They rose, heard mass, broke fast, and rode away:  
Then Lancelot saying, 'Hear, but hold my name  
Hidden, you ride with Lancelot of the Lake,'  
Abash'd Lavaine, whose instant reverence,  
Dearer to true young hearts than their own praise,  
But left him leave to stammer, 'Is it indeed?'  
And after muttering 'The great Lancelot,'  
At last he got his breath and answer'd, 'One,  
One have I seen that other, our liege lord,  
The dread Pendragon, Britain's King of kings,  
Of whom the people talk mysteriously,   
He will be there then were I stricken blind  
That minute, I might say that I had seen.'_

Erik closed the book. He'd had all he could take. How he shared in this struggle, this pain. He rose walking to the shelf, putting the book back in its place. "Lancelot…." He muttered under his breath. "He had the courage to turn away the young beauty that loved him, in hopes of saving her…"

Erik felt guilt, for the first time he felt guilty for taking Christine from the safety of the world she knew in order to satisfy the desires of his own heart. He could have pushed her away, nay, could have disappeared, and just watched as she grew and married another more suited for the world.

He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. Erik turned sharply as he realized he was no longer alone in the room. "Good evening sir" came a voice from the shadowy door leading to the servant's kitchen. "Might I bring you something to eat?"

Erik relaxed and raised his hand to cover his heart as an older gentleman would do. "Why yes thank you. A bit of bread and meat would suffice." The man bowed slightly and disappeared behind the swinging door.

Erik marveled at how the door blended into the wall. It could barely be seen, and then only if one was looking for it. He now strode over to the window that looked out at the stables behind the house. He'd wondered why he hadn't been joined by the officers, or the hansom, and quickly viewing the light in the loft above the stables realized they must have been enjoying dinner there.

Alone in this room he was reminded of another time and place, one where he had been during a brief few years when he'd ventured out of the Opera House, daring to dream of having another life.

Indeed his time in Persia had been interesting years. He'd had a study, not unlike the very one he was standing in now. A library filled with great literary works, servants at his beck and call. How quickly those years had vanished, and spare the few things he had brought back with him when he returned to the Opera House, he only had but one thing to show of his life there. A small fortune with which he purchased the home he was taking them to now. He had paid to have it managed while he was away, but it had been a long many years, five or more since he'd been there for more than a day's visit. He'd been so preoccupied with Christine that as she grew he visited it less and less.

Erik turned hearing the rattling behind the door in the wall, retiring to the chair. The butler appeared again with a small tray, putting it to rest next to Erik, he said "Sir, will you be requiring anything else?" Erik shook his head "no, this is fine thank you." With that the man departed through the door and Erik was alone once again.

He glanced over, the sweet smell of ham tempted his senses. There was several apples, sliced halfway through, some cheese, and a mound of thinly sliced ham, a small dish of nuts, and a hot pot of tea. "A gentleman's supper" Erik mused to himself. It was almost like being back in Persia. He lifted the green apple from the platter, slicing a piece and setting it off the edge of the knife in between his lips, the sweet sugars greeting his tongue. "Yes, most decidedly like Persia."

XXXXX

Joseph was in the stable with the four officers, now being amused by several of the boys who wrestled over the silver coin they'd have to split for assisting the men's horses. Yes, they could have split the coin for them, but this was much more entertaining. A maid had brought out soup and bread for the men, declining the ale, in favor of a hot pot of coffee with cream.

"So how long have you been in the service of De Chagny?" Joseph said, ripping off a hunk of bread, dipping it in his soup before consuming the soggy mess. The eldest of the officers, all of twenty-three, replied "good sir, we work for the King of France, it is only indirectly that we are involved with Monsieur De Chagny." Joseph laughed. "How true, you do work for the King, don't we all. But times being what they are, and De Chagny being of the influence that he is.." they all began to laugh, knowing how true the words of Joseph were.

"We've been asked to escort his friends to their first night's lodging, and then return, that has been our order," the second officer said. "And you Sir?" The third officer said looking at Joseph who was busy wiping his bearded chin. "I am not affiliated with De Chagny, not as of yet anyway. I've been employed by the family I'm carrying, not by the De Chagny family." Joseph felt a bit liberated in his speech, the francs in his breast pocket burning in his conscious.

"I've got it, I've got it…" the boy yelled from the barn below. "Give that back to me you little fool or I'll tell mother…." The voices trailed off as the one boy chased the other from the barn. Another round of laughter splitting the conversation of the men.

XXXXX

Raoul was back at home, a warm supper was on the table. He felt hungry tonight, the first time he'd felt that way in days. His servants had prepared roasted beef, winter squash, braised cabbage, and fig pudding for dessert. A dinner that would surely please his father, it had been one of his favorites when Raoul lived at home in his youth.

Raoul was finishing dressing for dinner when there was a knock at the door. "This arrived for you sir while you were out today." His maid laid a small envelope on the table in his room, quietly closing the door behind her.

Raoul furrowed his brow. "Whoever could this be from?" A small ivory envelope, lifting it he could smell the distinct scent of rose petals, he smiled briefly. Opening it he smiled again as he began to read, "Dear Raoul, Thank you for your many kindnesses. My mother and I are most grateful for having made your acquaintance. Sara was kind enough to deliver this message to you for me, our having to depart this afternoon, I was uncertain if I would see you again before we left. My thoughts are with you as you journey through your feelings for missing Christine. I miss her very much. I can only pray that she is well and safe, as I know you do. Perhaps I shall tire of the country, and as you suggested spend a bit of time in Paris. I shall contact the name of the man you mentioned in your note when the time is right. Meg"

Raoul felt a bittersweet taste in his mouth. The love of Christine still a very fresh wound, although he was certain she was still alive somewhere, there was little to do now but wait and pray. Meg had been a true friend to her, and a recent friend to him. He wasn't sure why he felt so protective of her now…perhaps it was because she was as close as he could get to Christine, and he shared so many memories of her with Meg. He wanted Christine to be proud of him when she returned, knowing she would be most appreciative that he had looked after Meg and Madame Giry as sure as if they were family already.

He laid the note down on his nightstand, lifting it once more to smell of its sweet fragrance. Putting it down, he finished tying his cravat, and went down to dinner. Hopefully his father would have returned, being after eight o'clock now.

XXX

Sara sat at the table of her empty Inn. It was fully rented until the day after next, so she had no hopes of company unless a weary traveler happened by. She longed for the conversations with Meg and Madame Giry, she had enjoyed them so. She reached for another cookie. The coffee and extra cookies had become supper this night, in lieu of cooking up something just for her.

Her cat sat by the warmth of the fireplace, licking its paws from the milk it had spilled from its saucer. "Kitty…" Sara called "come sit on my lap and keep me company." The cat looked at her briefly before turning its attention back to washing his paws.

"Just as well" Sara muttered standing now and tucking the chair beneath the table. "A good book and a bed will suit me just fine." She turned down the oil lamp until it flickered out. The steel grate in place in front of the fire, Sara wandered off to bed.


	51. Silence

Chapter 51 Silence, horseshoes, pots of tea 

Erik had finished nearly everything on the platter, being much hungrier than he first estimated. The cores of the apples lay neatly carved on the platter, the shells from the nuts tucked in the bowl. He had truly enjoyed sitting by the hearth, relishing the silence. Silence was his refuge. He enjoyed music much more because of silence, the two opposite ends of a delightful spectrum, each making way for appreciation of the other.

Even in the silence, music raged in his head, though not audible to anyone else, it was rich and splendid in his own mind. This was his peace. He sat gazing long into the fire, letting thoughts wash over him, recalling the past week, and how his life was changing so dramatically.

One by one, the cast-iron walls of his heart were coming down….he was beginning to feel…..human…..alive in the flesh……a man. His thoughts now wandering to Christine. In so many ways they were different, and yet something drew them to one another like an invisible magnetic force, one never seeming quite whole without the other.

She was tender, young, beautiful. He was none of those things, nearly the opposite. Then it occurred to him…like the silence and music he so loved, he and Christine were opposite ends of the spectrum…light and darkness….tender and hardened…they were meant to complete each other. In only two ways did they share the same freshness, in their love for music….and the new beginnings of their passions…in those ways, they shared everything intimately, jointly, freely. Erik closed his eyes, a smile washing over his face as he leaned back into the comfort of the chair.

XXXXXX

Joseph had gone to look after the horses, examining each one carefully. It had been a long hard ride from Paris, and each had given it their best. These were his family, his bread and butter, he looked after them much like children.

He patted the first beast, giving him an apple, and a long stroke along his mane. The second horse lay on his side, sound asleep. Joseph set about checking each hoof, only to find that one shoe was missing. He looked about the stable where the horse had been wandering. Using a pitch fork he dug about in the hay…nothing. He went to the carriage, unlatching his working kit, digging around in it feverishly…not one shoe…not ONE SHOE! He had been rushed that morning but was absolutely certain that he had packed extra shoes…how careless of him. The blacksmith's shop in town would most certainly be closed.

Joseph summoned one of the stable boys telling him to fetch the master of the house regarding a blacksmith. He disappeared into the darkness that now surrounded the Inn. Surely there was something to be done…if not, they'd overnight here and continue on in the morning.

XXXXX

Madame Giry poured the last of the pot of tea among the three cups. The women had just finished a long conversation about the first production that Meg and Christine had been in, so very long ago. Their parts had been small, and Christine was inexperienced, having been at the Opera House less than two months then. She had still been grieving her father, and the sad tones of the Opera made it all that much more difficult for her. They had laughed about how Christine had stumbled, knocking one of the prima ballerinas to the ground. Her temper had been much like Carlotta's was now, and she had scared Christine to death with her verbal lashings. Meg laughed, "now she's a mother of four, an old cow, one leg being larger than her whole body was then!" Madame Giry gave Meg a look, she did not approve of berating others. This was something Christine and Meg had indulged in when the two would sit up late at night. The ends of their beds touching they would push their pillows together and sit and talk late into the night sometimes, unless they were discovered.

Meg smiled at Christine, something was apologetic in her eyes, and Christine knew what she was trying to say, without ever having to say it in words. Madame Giry sensed the two needed to spend some time alone, it was a necessary step now…some things needed to be aired…things shared between sisters, a mother's presence only hindered their ability to speak freely.

Madame Giry rose, tea cup in hand. "I think I will wander over and find Stephan. We've tarried much longer than I'd expected, we should be getting on our way, we've still a distance to travel." She paused, looking down at the two girls who she'd raised. She loved them both dearly, and silently prayed that the recent developments would not drive a wedge between them. "You two stay and enjoy the rest of your tea." She turned and walked to the doors, sliding them open, disappearing on the other side.

The silence was at first awkward. The two sat sipping their tea, feebly fumbling with their silver spoons to stir the cooling brew. Christine stared at the ground, swallowing hard she began, "Meg, my dearest Meg, you and I have shared so much, been through so much together." She paused, looking Meg in the eye, and continued. "These last days have been extraordinary…so much has changed our circumstances." She drew in a deep breath and sighed.

"I've not known love as I do now Meg…." She lowered her voice to just barely above a whisper "Erik is wonderful…he is all that I dreamed of…all that I've dreamed of for many years." Christine's eyes began to glisten, a soft thoughtful smile crossing her face. "I'd loved him all these years…in different ways…first as a guardian…an angel…then as a tutor….a friend…"

Christine's tears spilled over onto her porcelain cheeks. She looked Meg deeply in the eye, "now…I love him as a husband…the man I dreamed of spending my life with….I know it is not logical…the choices I've made…but I must be true to my heart….to my soul….I've loved him all along…." She paused, drawing in a deep breath, glancing once again toward the ground. "Anything…anyone else along the way has been nothing more than a distraction from my true feelings for Erik."

She looked back up again at Meg who was staring at her looking so distraught Christine thought she would faint. "Meg, we are both still young, you and I, and as such we haven't matured in all ways….forgive me for my momentary jealousy…it is completely without foundation….I am now another man's wife…I have no hold on Raoul." Christine swallowed hard, she knew her own words were difficult…and would be true…in time.

Meg reached out and took Christine's hand in her own. "Christine, my sister, do forgive me…." She looked down at the ground. "I do not know what happened. It is difficult to say how really, I guess it might have been inadvertent on my part, what with trying to pretend to be sad for your loss, when I knew full well you were sitting up in your room safe in Erik's arms. I knew so much more than Raoul did, and it was almost my undoing. I had to pretend to be sad, yet I was happy for you…but the pain…the pain in Raoul's face was unbearable."

Christine looked away, the blush of shame rising in her cheeks. "He loved you Christine…he still loves you, and I know his heart is breaking for not knowing of your whereabouts."

Christine rose, walking toward the window, trying to peer out at the black night sky. "Don't think I've not grieved over this myself…he deserved so much more…" Christine's face was wet with tears that now flowed freely.

Meg went to her side. "Christine, I know that you followed your heart, you did what your heart bid you to do…you are happy…you are blessed." Christine smiled at Meg through her tears.

"Raoul will one day find happiness again…but it pains me to think he will never really know what became of you…his mind will always wonder." Christine nodded. "Perhaps one day….a very long time from now, he can know…long after he is married himself…and would no longer be concerned of such things" Christine said in a hushed breath.

Meg nodded, leading Christine back to the chairs at the table.

"Christine," Meg began, no longer wishing for there to be any secrets between them, "Raoul has offered to have me come to the city in a month or so, to stay with his sister, so I might rest in my labors of caring for my aunt and uncle." Christine's eyes flashed at Meg, a temporary rising but then calmed as quickly as they'd done so. "I see. And what have you decided to do…what did you tell him?"

Meg looked away. "I sent him a note while we were still at Sara's." Meg blushed a little. Christine's expression turned serious, that of an older sibling about to chastise a younger. "Meg, you know very well that this would be impossible. We will be far from here…we shan't want anyone to know where we are really going to be!" Christine's voice rising and lowering, it quivered.

Meg looked at Christine, mustering her courage she said "I know of the risks, and great pains would have to be taken to do such a thing, but I think it would actually provide us with more time, and more safety if I could return, perhaps several times over the next month or two, it would make the transition much easier…at some point we could say we've need to stay with our aunt and uncle for a season or two, as they were bedridden now and in need of constant care." Meg paused, waiting for Christine to reply.

Christine blinked several times. She must put her own ridiculous jealousy aside and think this through rationally. Meg's words were true. It would allow them to stay away longer without being suspected. After all the groundwork had already been laid, it was plausible that Madame Giry and Meg would have to stay to care for them. It could give them three or four months of unquestioned peace….it just might work.

"Meg, I'd fear for you while you were gone, it is much to keep to yourself, so much pretense you would have to provide. Let us speak to mother and to Erik before anything is decided." Meg smiled at Christine. The pair rose.

Christine took Meg's hand, "there is one thing I must ask you, and it shan't matter to me now, but I must know…" Meg swallowed, this was the question she'd hoped to avoid, but knew was coming.

"Do you fancy him Meg?" Meg looked down. "I would be dishonest if I said I did not find him pleasing." Meg blushed. "Do you fancy him as a suitor Meg?" Christine's question becoming rather pointed. Meg looked up at Christine "that is not my intention sister, as I know that would mean you and I would be parted forever." She reached out grabbing Christine, pulling her into an embrace. The two shed tears as they stood hugging one another in the silence of the room. Another bridge had been crossed, a new gate opened.

XXXX

Madame Giry crossed the hall, trying to make sound with her shoes, something she had always been conscious to avoid.

Erik turned, hearing her footsteps he rose to greet her, guiding her to the chair next to his. Madame Giry thought how very at home Erik seemed in those surroundings, a gentleman, in a gentleman's quarters.

"Do not tell me you tire of your tea and long for a whiskey." Erik said to her playfully. "No, no, I've come to check on things. Have you enjoyed your quiet?" "Yes, I dare say I was more in need of it than I had thought. It gave me time to do a bit of reading."

"Really, and what of this vast collection did you select?" said Madame Giry glancing over at the large volume filled shelves beyond Erik.

"Tennyson." Erik said, gazing again into the fire. Madame Giry looked concerned "pray do tell me it was not 'Elaine and Lancelot'" she asked, already knowing the answer by looking at Erik's face. She sighed, remembering how he had been silent for days after returning that volume to her many years ago. It hadn't been until she read it herself that she had understood why. Now Erik was punishing himself by reading it again.

"Why do you torture yourself so? That is all in the past now. She's your wife…" Madame Giry reached out covering Erik's hand. He drew it sharply away. "You know of my life, my age, my moods….does my desire to have her condemn her to live with such a beast? One so much older than she? Erik's eyes had fire in them as he looked at Madame Giry.

"Erik, a heart wants what it will, we have little power to stop it once it's fixed on something…..without denying ourselves, forever ignoring it's beating. It was meant to be…you were meant to be together." She looked down at the same flames that Erik now stared into. "It will not be easy. There will be quarrels, there will be moves to different homes, there will be family…."

Erik closed his eyes tightly, listening to her words. Madame Giry reached out and lifted his chin so he could not avoid her eyes. "These are things that all families do. Your love is a great love…so few find in this life….how can you deny yourself, deny Christine this chance to love as no others can love? Erik, let go….let go of that self loathing and let her LOVE you. I see it in her eyes at the very mention of your name."

A small smile crossed Erik's face. Madame Giry rested back in the chair. "Did you know she dreams of you? Dreams of your family, of watching you with your daughter on the beach?" Erik shook his head "yes, she's mentioned it."

"When a young wife begins to dream of a family, she is unconsciously relinquishing her future to her husband, to her children. Christine has no other desire but to be with you, to have a family with you."

Madame Giry took his face into her hands. "She dreams of you now even with her eyes open. She loves you. You've come this far, brought us all this far…there's no turning back now Erik, she is in your hands, love her…love her as you've dreamed of for years, for surely you know you are past the point of no return."

Erik looked up at Madame Giry, a vulnerability in his eyes she'd not seen in a good many years. His eyes were thanking her, saying he trusted her, asking will you help me.

Madame Giry reached out and touched his hand. "I shall be here to help you, do not worry. You've never abandoned me or Meg, my gratitude leaves me without words to express it. I shall help you however I can, for I love you both."

Erik smiled back at Madame Giry, his shoulders squaring. "Perhaps I should go to check with Joseph. It has been some time since we've stopped. Nadir will be looking for us at the Inn, no doubt worrying about our late arrival." Erik stood and went out the front door, leaving Madame Giry alone in the room.

She sat, head in hands silently praying. "Great Lord, in your infinite wisdom, give us the knowledge we require to do what is needed, and the courage to do it."

She lifted her head, curious look on her face, "Wait, Stephan?" She called after him, alas he was gone. "Who is Nadir?" Madame Giry said below her breath shrugging her shoulders. There was much she didn't know. She'd go to collect the girls…..she laughed at herself…they were hardly girls anymore.


	52. Horse shoes and claw foot tubs

**Chapter 52 Horse shoes, libraries, and claw foot tubs**

Erik longed to walk straight and tall, this slouching was beginning to wear on his frame. He shuffled down the long sidewalk winding its way back to the stables. On the lantern-lit path he could make out two figures in the courtyard. He could tell by the gruff demeanor and stout silhouette that one was Joseph, the other he did not recognize. He approached slowly, coughing into his cloak not wanting to appear as though he were sneaking up on their conversation. He was but ten yards from them when the other man in a hat said "I'll go inside and make the necessary arrangements." He turned and left down another path disappearing into the back of the house.

Joseph was turning to go back to the stable but seeing Mr. Courtland, approached, hand extended. "My good sir, I've been meaning to come in for a talk." He looked up at Stephan, who although hunched from age, was still six inches taller than he. "It seems as though there will be an unexpected delay."

Erik was annoyed; it was already late, Nadir would be worrying. "A delay of what sort?" Joseph cleared his throat, knowing full well by the tone of Stephan's voice, the news would not be well received. He shifted his weight, putting both hands in his jacket pockets before he began, "it seems that one of the horses has lost his shoe, and.." Erik interrupted curtly "then replace it, surely you have one in your kit…you do know how to refit a shoe do you not?" Joseph knew he was likely not going to be employed beyond the next stop, as Stephan's irritation was obvious, and now he would have to admit he was an incompetent hansom as well.

"Yes, Sir, I do indeed know how to…" "Then do it so we can be on our way, it is late and the innkeeper whose lodging I've already paid for will be expecting us before midnight." Erik was turning, fighting the urge to fling his cape in Joseph's face. "Good Sir," Joseph's contrite voice continued "I'm very sorry to inform you that I have no spare shoes, I must have left them in my haste this morning." Joseph looked down at the ground, awaiting the verbal lashing he was certain would be forthcoming.

Erik drew in a heavy breath, exhaling slowly, calming himself. Flying into a rage would not be wise, as at his age, this sort of temper could kill a man. "I see, then do send someone to fetch a blacksmith, surely even in this small town they have one." Joseph looked up and then back down again. "Yes, they do have one….however he is detained this evening and cannot come."

Erik smiled. He knew of a way to persuade even the most reticent person to comply. Reaching inside of his cloak, he retrieved a leather wallet, extracting several francs. "Here," he said, handing them to Joseph, "perhaps this will convince him to leave his warm bed and help us." Joseph shook his head, handing the money back to Stephan. "I'm quite certain that even this will not help…his wife is giving birth to their first child as we speak…he will not leave her side unless God himself uproots him….those were his words."

Erik could not help but smile. "I see," he said, knowing that he himself would not leave Christine's side when she was bringing their new life into the world…one day…he smiled again. "Very well, then we must…" Joseph interrupted him. "I've already taken care of the necessary arrangements. The innkeeper is preparing rooms for you and your wife, and for your nieces." "And you and the officers?" Erik feigned concern. "We shall stay in the upper room of the stable. There are beds enough there for eight hansoms."

Erik looked at Joseph, nodded and walked back towards the house. Joseph turned and walked back toward the stables. A maid was coming from the house with fresh linens for the beds. "Madame," he said politely "we will be having that ale now seeing as how we will be staying the night." "Yes sir" she replied. Joseph opened the door, seeing the men had already found some playing cards. "Deal me in sir…deal me in."

Erik wished they were closer so that he could take a horse after everyone retired and go to Nadir so he wouldn't worry. They were at least five hours or more away by carriage, so four by horse. There was no way to go and be back before dawn. He shook his head, this was out of his control. He climbed the stairs of the front porch, pushing open the heavy front door. They'd be staying there tonight, so he'd need to explore to make sure they would have proper exits should the need arise, one could never be too careful.

XXXXX

A maid came in through the servant's door into the room where Meg and Christine sat now with Madame Giry. They'd just finished the last of their tea and were preparing to depart.

"Madame, miss, I'll be showing you to your rooms now." "No, we aren't staying the night, there has been a mistake, we've only stopped to rest the…" Madame Giry stopped as she realized the maid was waiting for her to finish speaking.

"I'm terribly sorry, I'm to inform you that the horses won't be ready until morning, you'll be staying with us tonight." She turned now motioning for them to follow. "We've several nice rooms for you, and I can draw a hot bath if you'd like, we've no other guests tonight being the middle of the week and all.." she was climbing up the stairs to the right.

"You'll have full use of the inn. We have a wonderful library, and.." she stopped abruptly. "Here we are," she said opening a room that was awash in candlelight.

It had two beds, rose-colored wallpaper, lace curtains, a vanity, a large window with a window seat, a desk and two chairs. The two canopy beds looked positively plumped, with small wooden step stools to climb into them. Lace fabric draping down both sides. To the left, there was a door, a private water closet, and a large claw foot tub was tucked in the corner. Meg inhaled. She'd never seen a room so lovely.

"This will be for you Madame and your daughter. We'll be bringing in your traveling cases and anything else you require." Madame Giry looked back and forth between Meg and the maid. "Thank you" she replied.

The maid now turned her attentions to Elizabeth, taking her by the arm she said "come with me. I've put you and your husband down the other hall. It is a bit quieter there, further from the stables." Christine smiled over her shoulder as the woman extracted her from the room, pulling her along by the hand.

They walked down the hallway, back past the open formal staircases, and down a few doors to the right. She smiled before she opened the door. Christine looked at her curiously, and smiled back. She opened the door, and Christine could see why she was smiling before. The room was vast. A large four-poster bed sat in the middle, a large hearth lay in front of it, a fire crackling in it. There were several chaise lounges, a large dark table with several chairs, a long vanity with a beautifully gilded mirror, a soft lamp sitting on one side. There were French doors along one wall that led out onto a private veranda that overlooked a rose garden; that now lay sleeping beneath the snows.

Christine's breath caught as her eyes turned to the head of the bed. There above it was a glorious stained glass window. Violets and sapphires, shades of emerald and gold, all glimmering from the growing light of the full moon outside, casting colorful rays across the bed. To the left there was another small room, a water closet, and a very large claw foot tub. Christine smiled, looking back at the maid said, "it is so very lovely." Nearly forgetting herself she almost told the woman that she was on her honeymoon.

"Yes, it is lovely….it is our honeymoon suite….never too old to appreciate this sort of thing mam." Christine smiled, if the poor woman only knew…. "thank you." The woman smiled and turned to leave. "Oh, I almost forgot, a message for you….please tell your husband that I've sent a messenger on to the next inn where you'd be staying tonight if not for the misfortune of the horse. He was a young man who was headed past there on his travels out of France. He delivers packages and the like so he didn't mind carrying the message for you."

"Oh thank you, I'll be sure to tell…Er..my husband. Thank you for your thoughtfulness." "You're most welcome. I'll be back up in a few minutes with your bags mum, is there anything else you'd be needing?" She turned looking back at Christine. "Just my husband, thank you." She smiled. "I'm sure I can find him around here somewhere." She said closing the door behind her.

Christine wandered around the glowing room. There was a small candelabra in the corner, heavy pillar candles nestled in that gave the room a golden glow. The kerosene lamp on the vanity made the smooth white marble of it gleam, its light dancing across it in the mirror. The window seat was surrounded by three large windows stretching toward the ceiling.

She walked over to the large wooden table, running her fingers along the polished top, it reminded her of a table that she and her father had once had at the house by the sea. She smiled, making her way over to the water closet, looking inside to see that there were four large porcelain candlesticks at each corner of the bath, a large mirror hanging behind it, making the light twice as golden. It was like walking through a dream.

She walked back into the bedchamber, peering out the window noticing how the stained glass widow cast its brilliant colors on the undisturbed snow below. Several large pines, formed a sort of secret garden on that side of the Inn, making it feel as though they were in the deep woods, nothing to disturb them. She turned going to the bed, her hands running along the smooth satin covering. It was of the darkest jade, deep black embroidery, all of hearts and cherubs. She stood in the middle of the room, turning slowly, taking in all of the beauty, it was truly like being inside a fairytale….a splendid dream.

She was brought back to reality as the maid knocked and walked into the room. "Here are your traveling bags, is there…" she paused "Madame, are you alright?" Christine said "Hmmmm, why yes, yes of course. I am simply admiring the room, it is so elegantly appointed."

The maid smiled, carrying the bags over to the vanity, setting them off to the side. She stood saying "this home was once owned by a Baron. He had it built as a wedding present for his new wife. It's sad really, she never made it here….she died of scarlet fever on her way." She looked down at the ground. "This was to be their wedding suite….the Baron never even spent one night under this roof…he couldn't bear it." With that the maid sighed and disappeared with a final "good night mum."

Christine's eyes dropped. How very lucky she was to have been able to love her husband from the very first. The house had been built for a family that never had time to occupy it before death knocked at its door. How very sad. She lifted a silent prayer, "Dear Lord, if it be in your infinite plan to allow Erik and I to have a family, please do not wait long to answer this prayer, for one never knows how much time one has on this earth." She opened her eyes. She glanced over at the bags, smiling she moved toward them, she needed to get ready, prepare, for when poor old Stephan finally reached the room.

Christine carefully dug to the bottom of the bag, extracting the long white lace nightgown and robe, a fresh ivory satin ribbon. She walked with purpose to the water closet, opening the faucet on the tub, letting the water begin to spill in. The miracles of hot water coming from a spout in the wall still amazed her even now. She ran her fingers under the flowing water, delighting as it became warm to her touch. She drew a small bottle from her toiletries, pouring a small amount of the liquid into the tub, the aromatic fragrances blending as the steam began to rise from the water. It would take some time for the tub to fill, as it was so large, so wide and deep. She silently hoped that the boiler had enough warm water to fill it. This would be such a treat after such a long cramped carriage ride.

She strode back to the bedroom, slipping out of her garments, trying and failing and trying again until she was able to reach the top of her corset. She was able to twist it around enough so she could grasp the last strings, releasing them, and slipping it over her head. "Oh my" she said, quite out of breath. She slipped into her nightgown, pulling her hair up into it, sliding it to the back of her neck.

Walking over to the window seat, moving the lace curtains ever so slightly to lean for a better look. A dense forest lay just beyond the yard, the snow here too untouched, save the few bunny tracks that dotted the surface. It was beautiful, and glittered under the light of the moon. like a vast ocean of diamonds.

She smiled to herself, a warmth filled her as she turned to let her eyes roam about the room again. It was far more beautiful a setting than she had ever been in before, it had a special allure all its own. It was ironic, they were to have been somewhere else tonight, sharing a room with Meg and Madame Giry, but instead, the heavens saw fit to deposit them there, here in this room.

She closed her eyes dreaming again of the warm sea washing over her feet, her toes digging into the sand. She could hear the seagulls off in a distance, and the laughter of children, the voice of their father teasing them. She couldn't help herself. She was smiling inside and out watching Erik running in the sand, a daughter's hand in one hand, a small son in his arms, clinging to his shoulder as they ran through the splash of the incoming tide. He turned to smile at her, sunlight beaming from their faces.

Suddenly she could feel she was not alone. Her eyes flitted open, adjusting to the light she peered toward the door, a smile still gracing her face. Erik's breath caught in his chest, seeing her bathed in a blend of moonlight and candlelight, flowing lace running down the length of her legs, piled and frilly under the weight of her dark tendrils pushed over one shoulder. How could it be that she seemed to grow more beautiful every day?

He put both bags he'd been carrying down on the floor. "Elizabeth, I see you've made yourself comfortable." He said smiling at her, raising his finger to his lips and pointing toward the door. He wasn't certain how far away his escort now was, and wanted to be sure that his initial glee at seeing Christine in more feminine attire did not betray their identities.

"Yes, I'll have a bath to ease my achy bones before retiring." Christine said as she made her way over to him. Erik was busily removing his jacket, slipping his boots from his feet. Her walk seemed to mesmerize him, the swaying lace, the look in her eyes, the look she reserved only for him. She was there in front of him now, reaching out touching his cravat, sliding her fingers through it slipping it from his neck. She pecked him on the cheek playfully and took him by the hand. "Here, let me show you something." Erik would have followed her anywhere.

His eyes quickly taking in the grandeur of the room, the candles, the mirrors, the stained glass window…the bed. Christine led him over to the window seat, opening the curtains to reveal the glittering snow. "It reminds me of our wedding night….how the moon danced across the snow….how the…" Erik slipped both hands around her waist, drawing her to him, slowly, gently, tenderly.

"Christine…." he gasped, kissing her neck, and then her lips. She turned to gaze at him, his eyes fixed on her, wandering her face as his hands held her upper torso close. "This room is magnificent," she said, her eyes darting around. "It was built by a Baron for his new wife, but she never.." Erik leaned down kissing her passionately. His mind reeled as he felt Christine's arms snaking up under his, pulling his chest closer to her own. How he had longed to hold her, and yet had set his mind upon ignoring that urge during the next days as they traveled with Meg and Madame Giry. It was a mystery how things had happened. They were out of his control, but became something of a wonderful surprise…he would get used to that.

Christine suddenly pulled away "the bath!" scampering off to the water closet, lace bathrobe trailing behind her in a flourish. Erik stood admiring her as she disappeared into the other room. He went about removing his remaining garments, wrapping himself in the deep red satin robe from his traveling case.

Christine reemerged from the room, her face flushed from the heat of the rising steam. "It's ready" she said, glancing back to Erik and toward the bath. "What's ready?" Erik said with a smile, standing now, moving slowly, deliberately toward her, head tilted slightly down.

Christine felt a shiver run up her spine, her lip quivered. In that light she saw the same Erik she had seen during Don Juan: masculine, purposeful, entrancing. A small gasp escaped her as she took a few steps to meet him. He put his arms forcefully about her waist, lifting her from the ground up to where their eyes met evenly.

She put her arms around his neck leaning in she kissed him at first lightly. He raised her even higher, and began to swirl her about in the room, her nightgown fluttering. She laughed a little, looking down at him, an almost childish thrill filling her until she could contain herself no longer. She went limp causing Erik to lower her to him until her neck was level with his face, pulling her close kissing her neck as he let her down inch by inch until at last their lips met. She never closed her eyes, she didn't want to miss anything.

Deep warmth filled her, she felt flushed again as she began to respond to Erik's advances with abandon. He gently let her feet to the ground, their gazes never parting. Her hands came to rest on Erik's chest, slowly sliding them over his muscular torso, up to his shoulders and beneath his robe, gently pushing it away from his flesh, letting it drop to the floor.

Erik stood there before her, wanting to grab her to love her, but wanting more to relish each tender moment between them. He reached down kissing her tenderly, his hands around her neck, reaching inside of her robe, massaging her shoulders as his hands slipped beneath the lace. He felt Christine shudder, a small gasp rising to her lips. "Eric…" was all she could manage. He slid his arms under her shoulders, lifting away all that separated them, releasing it to the floor.

Eric scooped her into his arms carrying her to the soft satin that was but a few feet away. The trembling of previous encounters gone. He no longer feared hurting her, she no longer feared loving him. As the passions of the moment overtook them, they shared the pure pleasures meant only for a husband and wife. Pausing to focus on one another's eyes, searching, their souls talking, exchanging promises, lighting fires deep within, breathing life into the farthest recesses of their beings, staking claims to future love yet undiscovered. If words could describe the bond that was forged during precious moments such as these they would have to describe the very hands of God meshing two beings into one…let no man put asunder.

Christine felt a tear escape the corner of her eye as Erik came to rest above her. He was gentle and tender, all she could ever imagine she would need for a lifetime. Erik caught the tear with his lips, trailing the kisses down her cheek and to her neck. "I love you Christine…." He gazed into her eyes. "And I love you, my dear, precious husband, I love you so" her breath drifting in and out airily.

He kissed her tenderly before moving to one side, taking her into his protective embrace, her head sliding to its place on his strong chest. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her as close as skin would allow. They lay a long while just glancing around the room, their eyes meeting and parting, as they drank in the serenity of the moment. Drifting into a sleepy slumber, a half conscious euphoria settled around them. The room was glowing, shafts of amber, ocean blue, deep jade, fiery red dancing over the two resting bodies.

Christine lifted her head, looking up at Erik who was smiling at her. "Come," she rolled up, grasping Erik's hand. He tilted his head wondering what she would rather be doing than laying there basking in the after glow.

She led him to the water closet, dipping her fingers in the water, reaching out and smoothing her wet hand over his chest. "It's still hot!" She said with a smile. Never letting go of his hand, she stepped up on the stool and put in first one foot, wincing as the hot water registered on her skin. "Oooo" she said, putting the other foot in.

She smiled at Erik as he stood looking at her "come, come" she said tugging at his hand. He hesitated, he'd never shared a bath with anyone….this was indeed odd, but how could he refuse her? Not needing the stool he lifted first one foot into the steaming water, and then the other. His skin tingling all over as the steam rose, and his spirit soared.

He too had never seen so large a tub, but immediately was glad for the length of it, as he came to rest next to Christine, his legs being able to fully extend. He slid down, leaving only enough of his chest out of the water to cradle Christine in his arms. She gratefully put her head on his chest, reaching up to put a bubble of soap on his nose, turning to look up at him playfully. "Christine…" he half laughed "my sweet Christine" he said. She slipped both her arms around his waist nestling her head to his chest once again, letting both his love, the warmth of the water, and the candle light wash over them.

XXXX

Down the hall Meg and Madame Giry enjoyed their surroundings. Meg was perched on the chair at the vanity, her mother standing behind her, brushing her long blonde locks. "Mother, are you humming?" Meg asked turning her head slightly, a small grin on her face. Madame Giry stopped, pursed her lips and replied "why yes, I guess I am" taking her hand and guiding Meg's face forward again.

Meg laughed. "It is so good to see you relaxed. The Opera House required you to be serious so much of the time….it is good to see you like this again…it reminds me of the nights we spent at home when father was alive…" Meg's eyes trailed down from the mirror and she stared thoughtfully into the kerosene lamp on the table.

Madame Giry's eyes looked like she was a million miles away, traveling back in time to when she and her husband would sit in front of the fire at night, their little Meg playing on the floor. He with a good book in hand, she with her needlepoint…those were precious times. She shook her head, and busied herself with braiding Meg's hair. "They were indeed precious times Meg, I miss them as do you."

"Mother, do you think you would ever marry again?" The look on Madame Giry's face was something between surprise and horror as the question registered. "Meg, I've hardly thought of such things…your father was…he was the love of my life…"

Meg immediately felt guilty for asking the question, seeing the pained expression that now spread across her mother's face. Madame Giry finished the braid, securing the end with a satin ribbon. "Why do you ask Meg?" she said, turning her daughter around on the bench.

"I was thinking of Sara…how lonely she seemed….I don't ever want you to be that lonely mother." Madame Giry raised her hand to her daughter's chin, sliding it beneath her jaw. "Meg, I shall never be lonely, I will always have my family close to me, for wherever you, Christine, and Erik go, I will follow."

Meg smiled, rising to hug her mother. "Now, my dear, let us slip down to the library and pick a couple of books. There are volumes and volumes down there, and I do believe I saw some of the poetry you like." "Ohhhhh" Meg said, slipping on her robe. "Poetry, I cannot think of anything more wonderful to read in such a fine room. Mother this is a bit like a fairytale in itself, don't you think?" Madame Giry smiled down at her daughter "why yes it is." They walked hand-in-hand to the door, and disappeared down the dark hallway to the staircase and down to the library.

XXXXXX

Raoul and his father had just finished their supper. The maid brought their coffee into the library, sitting it down on the stout table between the two leather chairs situated in front of the fire. The senior De Chagny stretched and settled into the first chair as Raoul paced over to the window.

"I wonder where they are now father….if she is alright?" Raoul was gazing out at the full moon as it shone brightly against the star-filled ink-black sky. His father clearing his throat, could sense the deep pain in his son's heart. "Son, sometimes we cannot know all things…there are things that will forever remain a mystery…things like when my dear friend never returned from the war…his body never recovered…no word as to his demise….we could only assume he gave his life in the service of our country…some things are never known by any but God himself."

The words, however true, brought little comfort to Raoul. Christine was not a soldier, she was an innocent girl, trapped and dragged to the depths by a monster…surely this was far more tragic than a soldier having been in harms way. "I understand" Raoul said, knowing his father could never really know how he felt. His father cleared his throat again, a signal to Raoul that he was to sit, his father must have something to talk about.

He complied, sitting in the chair opposite his father.

"Son, we will continue to search, although perhaps not on the same scale, but we will search. I've twenty or more men in my employee for the next two weeks, whose sole purpose it is to ferret out any information in regard to this affair. I've talked to many hansoms, who would have likely been employed by anyone leaving the city, that had not brought a carriage in. We've woodmen looking about all of their land for anything out of the usual. We've properly motivated the police officers. There is little else we can do now but wait."

Raoul hung his head, looking only at the fire hoping for some sort of absolution. "Thank you father…it means a great deal to me that you've assisted in this quest….knowing how you felt about our union…" Raoul said, looking up at his father now. The senior De Chagny nodding only and looking into the flames himself to avoid the pained expressions on Raoul's face.

"It is best now for you and me to focus our attentions on something constructive. I think I shall be needing to set up residence with you for a fortnight so we can focus on the reconstruction of our Opera House. An Opera House without performances is nothing but a financial burden. If we are to have any hopes of avoiding the financial ruin of the place, we shall have to return it to working order quickly. I've sent for my architect, and several of my servants to be of assistance to yours during my stay, so as not to overburden your household. We shall work from here until a proper office can be arranged at the Opera House. We shall have to turn this room into a drawing room and a small place for the inner circle to gather as we plan."

His father stood now walking around taking a mental note of the things that would have to be changed in order to accommodate the needs. "It is my hope that this will not meet with your disapproval?" Raoul longed to be alone, to sulk in the darkness until his broken heart began beating again, to drowned his sorrows. He knew however, that it was of no use to argue with his father, as he was thinking with only his heart, and his father was thinking with his head.

"No, that shall be fine…the plans you've made are fine." "Very well then, I shall dispatch a courier in the morning to fetch what is necessary. In the meantime, we should try to rest. Tomorrow is another day, perhaps it will contain news." His father lifted his cup taking it with him as he departed to his bedchamber.

Raoul stood by the fire, warming his hands. He then sank into his chair, resting his head against the back of it. "My dear Christine….please forgive me for what I have done…what I have left undone….please know that I will always love you…no matter what….always love you…." He closed his eyes, fighting back tears. Tomorrow would be a new day, further mending of the gaping hole in his heart. For as each day passed, the searing pain turned slowly to a numbness that would one day vanish too.

XXXXX

Out in the deep snows beyond the trees that surrounded the Inn, a lone man lay with his horse on a pile of pine needles covered by a thick horse blanket. No fire to warm him as he could ill afford to draw such attention to his presence. The large branches of the pine tree he was nestled under provided much shelter from the winds, and the warmth of the horse kept him from freezing. He was thankful that the winds were warming now a bit, some dripping could be heard as he drifted off to sleep. A tinge of jealousy struck him as he thought about those in the Inn sleeping in comfort while he, hidden in shadow slept with a horse. Tomorrow would bring a warm bed, and a handsome reward. He smiled as he tugged the cover up under his chin. "Yes a reward indeed."

**Author's Notes:**

Thank you to all of the faithful readers! I have been enjoying reading your reviews, and I hope you've been enjoying the updates! There are a few I haven't heard from in a long while….I hope I've not bored anyone into abandonment! Please let me know if you are still out there: Captain Oblivious; Ethalas Tuath'an; Glitter Queen of the Ice Show; Christine de Nuit; phantomadark; diveprincess; cinafran; angelheart13; super-girlcom; AJNemo; Twinkle22; Saphhire Tearz; Ankh of Hearts; Bexy; Orli's babe; inuvashas lover; Midnight Tango; Vixen519; Moonjava; mendedways; pimpernelunderthecelticmoon. You've become like family, and it's time for a reunion!

**Waytoointoerik**: Yes, out of Paris indeed, but not out of danger….oh…what sweet tragedy….. The future is turning for them, but which way it will go…only the future knows! It's funny you should mention therapy…my friends tell me I need some because of the way I light up like fireworks whenever I talk about POTO! Writing this has been therapy for me…I'm such a romantic at heart…this is far more intense than what I might ever know myself, but somehow just basking it as the story develops makes my steps lighter every day! I will be away now until July 5th (sorry) so I've posted another three chapters for you. I hope you have a wonderful Fourth of July…that is…if you are in the Americas! This is the fun of cyberspace…we never really know where anyone is…although I have just revealed what continent I'm on now haven't I!

**Crayann**: Thank you for the compliment. I'm rather like that myself, when I find something I like, I cannot seem to get enough of it. I'm glad you're enjoying the journey!


	53. The Messenger

Chapter 53 The Messenger….The Guardian 

Nadir paced the floor. He'd received Erik's cryptic message several days ago. At least he'd known Erik was alive. The moon was high in the sky now, nearing midnight, they should have been there by now.

Nadir walked out on the porch. The snow was thawing on the overhang, dripping slowly down the icicles that hung there. It was a good night for traveling he thought. Nadir was eager to know more about the "other" guests that Erik referred to in his note. It was unlike, no more so never-like Erik to travel with anyone…he was a loner through and through. It had been a long while since Nadir had laid eyes on Erik, and he was anxious to catch up with him.

The moon illuminated the fields beyond the Inn with an eerie glow conjuring up stories of the headless horseman and the like. Nadir looked down the long road that led out and over the top of the hill like a snake. And then, something caught his eye. "Was that movement?" Nadir strained his eyes trying to focus on a small object off in the distance. He stood still, fixed on the object…yes…his eyes were not playing tricks on him…it was movement…but not a carriage….it was a lone horseman. Perhaps Erik had tired of his companions, or there were further complications, either way, Nadir was certain that it was Erik.

He went quickly over to the large lantern that lay off to the side on the porch. He placed it swaying on the brass hook above, reaching inside to light the wick. It burst to life, the kerosene making its way up to meet the flame. Erik would know that it was all clear, and that Nadir was waiting for him. Nadir went back into the inn, fetching a bottle and several crystal glasses. Surely Erik would need something to warm him up. As Nadir sat down casually on the chair he had brought from the house to the porch, he watched as the figure grew larger and larger against the glittering white snow.

"Rather small horse for Erik" Nadir thought as the horseman rounded the fence coming into the yard. Nadir rose walking down the stairs and toward the visitor. "My friend, my friend.." Nadir paused. This was not Erik, not Erik indeed, the man was inches shorter, his hair blonde.

"What can I do for you good sir? We've a full Inn tonight, but if you're in need of water for you horse you can…" The man interrupted Nadir, a sense of urgency in his voice. "I am but a messenger sir," he said handing Nadir an envelope. "It's from the Innkeeper at the Candlelight Inn. She said you'd be needing this tonight." Nadir nodded. "Thank you. Would you like some hot coffee, or some oats for your horse?" Nadir inquired. "Thank you kindly Sir, but I'm due five hours from here by sun-up. Good day to you sir." The messenger turned his horse abruptly, and with several quick jabs to the beast's sides, they were off.

"Why would she be sending me a note by midnight messenger? I wonder if something has happened…" Nadir opened the envelope, walking over to the illuminated lantern. He opened it and read, "My dear brother: I've visitors from Paris staying with me tonight. Poor horse lost one of his shoes. They will be on their way in the morning after breakfast. Nadir, do take caution, I dare say they've had some unexpected company at their heels. Extra preparations should be made in case things do not go as planned. Your loving sister, Claire"

Nadir stood expressionless. "Who would be following them now? Nadir paced back and forth. He was thankful that he had sent word to Claire a few days ago that there would be travelers from Paris passing through. The Candlelight Inn being a favorite stopping post for travelers on that road, as it was the only one that could accommodate most of their needs. Dozens of hansoms made their way in and out of those stables every day.

What Nadir had told her was sketchy at best, as he had little information himself. She had known it would be three women and one man, arriving by carriage from Paris, the couple would be on their honeymoon.

He walked inside, swiftly climbing the stairs to his room. He went to the dressers and began pulling out garments, laying them on the bed. He fetched his satchel and put in a change of clothes and extra boots. Nadir stopped in the kitchens long enough to pack several rations of food, and a large jug of water. In fifteen minutes time he was in the saddle of his horse, his sword gleaming at his side, his gun packed behind him. There was no one else to go, and no time to waste. Erik had saved his life many years ago, a favor Nadir hadn't forgotten, now it was Erik who was in need, and he wouldn't let him down.

Nadir was certain that Claire would have found some way to warn him, but wouldn't have known that Erik was like a caged animal when threatened. He would never sit back and be a victim, he would hunt the blood himself rather than be hunted. Erik needed no further blood on his hands, he needed to be free from that life, be free to live for the first time. Nadir lowered his head, wrapping his cape closely around him, he gave the horse a jab to the sides as it began to gallop down the road and up over the hill.

XXXX

Claire sat at the back window of her Inn, a gun in her lap, looking out toward the field where she had last caught site of the man and his horse going under the trees. It was pure happenstance really that she had noticed him at all. She'd taken out the dishwater when she first saw him. Had he kindled a small fire, or come up to the house to get food, she would have dismissed it as a hansom or messenger who could not afford comfortable lodging, for there were many of those on the road.

He lit no fire, and seemed to take particular interest in the carriage that carried her new visitors, straining to get a better look at those coming and going from the stable where it sat. He had eyed with particular interest the men in the carriage, looking back and forth from a piece of crumpled paper he held in his hand and the men standing there. It had all seemed quite peculiar to her.

Nadir had told her that the friend that was visiting him had many enemies. He was a wealthy man, and had made many shrewd business deals making enemies who would delight in his demise. She really didn't know Stephan, but if he meant that much to her brother, she felt obligated to protect him.

The house was quiet, it seemed that everyone was asleep now, all except for her. She took a sip from her strong coffee before walking to the counter retrieving a bushel of apples. If she was going to be up all night, she might as well be productive. Apple bread and pie would be on the menu the next day, and the apples weren't going to peel themselves. Sitting down she felt the rough bump in her apron. Standing she walked over to her cupboard retrieving the horseshoes from her pocket. She put them into the deep recesses of the pantry for safekeeping.


	54. Wolves of many coats

Chapter 54 Wolves of many coats 

Nadir's horse panted heavily as he pushed the animal for all it was worth. The road was even and the air though still cold, held no bitter chill. Nadir was focused on one thing and one thing alone…reaching the Inn before Erik made a preemptive strike, or the other man made a foolish attempt. Erik's was a force to be reckoned with. Now with someone to protect, he would likely be even more ferocious in his dealings. Erik had witnessed too much violence, been part of too much senseless harm…it was no way for a human being to be formed. His harshness could be attributed to his environment, for truly this was all that the world had ever shown him. It was a wonder to Nadir that he had grown into anything other than a brutal monster.

Nadir felt his horse slow beneath him. Despite Nadir's cajoling, the horse first slowed further, then took off with a bolt, nearly toppling Nadir from his seat in the saddle. Nadir pulled hard on the reins, the horse breathing heavily winced from the pain in the bit, but continued without regard. Nadir sensed that instinct had taken over and he was at the mercy of the animal beneath him. He lowered himself to the horse, looking off to each side as he did. At once Nadir understood the urgency, for on each side he could make out three, nay, four wolves. Travelers often heard of stories of lone horses being taken down by the wolves that lived in that broad area between cities. Such stories always ended with the mournful pronouncement "no one knows what became of the rider."

Nadir shuttered as he clung to the sides of the animal, praying that the adrenaline would last long enough for them to escape from this present danger. Nadir being grateful that he had selected his sturdiest steed for the journey, not knowing what lay ahead.

XXXXXX

Joseph had been triumphant. For though the officers had brought little funds with them, it had only taken him hours to make it his own. They were all tired, and a bit done in by the ale they'd consumed, all had gone to bed except him.

Making his way down to the stables below, he wanted only one thing more now, to see what sort of treasures his passengers carried with them. Joseph quite easily opened Madame Giry's trunk, lifting the garments one by one, seeing if any would fit the ladies that he had become acquainted with in his travels. Selecting the finest of the garments, a dress of chartreuse and lace, he put the other things back in, smoothing them down.

The second was that of Meg's. Joseph took particular interest in looking through this one, as it contained much daintier things, scented with lavender from the sachets that were in the bottom. He sighed, putting everything back in this one, as none of his lady friends were of a size small enough for these garments to be of any good use.

The third trunk was Elizabeth's. This one was much harder to open, as it was latched firmly with a strange sort of clasp, and it appeared to need a key to open. Joseph grumbled to himself, surely this one would contain something that he could use, and perhaps something of value. He looked around for something to pick the lock with. Finding nothing at his easy disposal, he went on to the last trunk.

It was larger than the others, and had a much heavier cover. There was no lock, and it seemed no way to open the trunk for it contained no latches, just ornate carvings on the top. Joseph studied it for a long while, scratching at his beard and head. He looked at the trunk and said to himself in a low voice "how on earth does he.." "Does he open this?" a voice said behind him.

Joseph gasped, jumping to his feet, he whirled around to see Stephan standing in the shadows behind him. "Good sir, I'm, it is…." he stammered, having no plausible response knowing he'd been overheard.

"It is not meant for any other than the owner to open." Erik said, although hunched over from his ruse, a fiery fury burned in his glance as he walked out of the shadow into full view of Joseph.

"Pray do tell me sir, what business you have rummaging through the personal effects of those who employ you, nay, trust you with their safe keeping?"

Joseph was on his feet now, backing away, glancing toward the door, knowing he'd never make it there without passing by Stephan. True, he was an older man, but he was also in his temporary employ, and he had not been fully paid. Thinking up a feeble excuse, he said "I thought I saw the stable boys playing with the trunks, as they were carelessly strewn about as you see them here." Joseph motioned with his arms. "I was going to see that the covers were secure before putting them back on the carriage sir."

Erik, having not observed the man for more than a minute, could not be certain if the fear in Joseph's face was because he startled him, or because he was guilty of some yet unknown crime. He studied his face looking for something to betray him, but he found nothing. "I see, then you should not be interested in knowing how to open the trunks, but rather fix your attention on making sure the covers are secure and returning the trunks to their rightful place on the rear of the carriage then." Erik turned, and walked out of the door of the carriage house, back toward the house.

Joseph breathed a sigh of relief, feeling he had certainly passed the test. Now wary that he might be observed, he put the trunks back. He pulled the dress he had taken out of Madame Giry's trunk out from under the hay he had stuffed over it. "At least I have this one," he smiled, pressing it into his satchel, before going off to bed.

Erik slowly walked back to the house, the night air warmer than he expected. His eyes had fully adjusted to the darkness of the night as he came to the path leading up to the Inn. Off to the right, in the distance, beyond the trees, he though he saw movement. Likely it was an animal on the hunt, but it drew his attention none-the-less. He had observed so many things being hunted. Although gruesome, it was interesting to him how each had their own method. He had learned much by watching the fox, the wolf, the bear, each employed their own skills to be victorious.

He watched as he walked, expecting to see a hare scamper out if its hiding place only to be prey to the predator. He saw movement again, but this time, his keen eyes saw that it was the frame of something much larger, surely that of a person, not a beast. Erik's pace quickened, his heart began to pound. He did not want to allow his movements to betray what he now knew. He was amazingly rational, knowing it was entirely possible that this was a mere robber, a lonely traveler just arriving, but whatever the case, he wanted to observe until he was certain that it posed no danger to him or his family.

Erik moved quietly inside, knowing the best view would be from the back of the house. He made his way through the dark halls until he came to a swinging door he assumed was the kitchen. Moving it carefully, he pushed it open slowly.

He heard a gasp and the cock of a gun he was certain was aimed directly at him. "Mr. Courtland!" Claire gaped. "What are you doing out of bed at this hour?" Claire said trying to regain the breath that had escaped her, for surely she nearly shot the very man she was trying to protect.

"Madame, I am sorry to have frightened you. I often cannot sleep, I was thinking of having a bit.." Erik saw movement beyond the trees, the figure was most definitely coming towards the house. Claire noticed his glance, looking down she knew she had to take him into her confidence, for surely they shared the same concern. "He's been out there since twilight, perhaps before, it is then that I first noticed him." Erik knew that she had been observing the same thing, which explained the gun that now lay in her lap.

"I don't know what he is doing here, or what his intentions are, but I've been keeping an eye on him most of the night." Claire said, looking up at Stephan who was watching the man intently.

"Allow me to introduce myself," she said, standing, wiping her hands on her apron and extending it toward him. "My name is Claire." Erik turned his attentions briefly to her, his brow furrowed, not sure what significance this introduction served. "How do you do" he said firmly, but with no real interest in his tone.

"My good sir, my brother is Nadir." Erik blinked several times, turning his full attention to her. "What did you say?" "My brother Nadir told me that you and your family would be passing through on the way to his Inn, just in case you stopped here, he wanted to see that I would attend to your needs especially." Erik was confused. He had no idea how much Nadir had entrusted her with, and not wanting to offer more than he ought, he remained silent.

"My brother said that you had a great many enemies who would delight in your demise, and I was to be observant in watching over you if you tarried here." Erik looked at her smiling, he could see a bit of Nadir in her, their eyes being somewhat similar, and now knowing of her relation, he could see the familiar look of concern that Nadir gave him on many occasions.

He glanced back out the window. Claire joined him, watching as the man moved slowly, step by step in the deep snow. "After I noticed him, I became concerned that he might follow you through the night as you traveled. If he were indeed an assassin, he would certainly have no trouble overcoming your hansom, and surely put an end to you and your keeps. It was then that I devised in my mind a plan to keep you here under my safekeeping. I must confess it was I that dislodged the shoe from the horse, taking all spares from the kit in the carriage." Erik smiled at her resourcefulness. Surely Nadir would be proud of her quick thinking.

"Stephan, I know not of your business dealings, or of what importance you are to my brother, but he has asked me to look after you, and I shall do my best until morning light." Claire said, reaching down, grabbing another apple to peel.

"It could be nothing," Erik said, coming to rest in a chair beside Claire, perched for full view of the window. "True" said Claire, putting her knife to the apple, slicing it through its core. "But one can never be too careful," she said looking up at Stephan.

"You must be tired" Erik said, looking at Claire whose hair was loosed and strayed into her face: the coffee in the cup next to her now cold. "You should get some rest, you have many things to attend to on the morrow, and I can rest in the carriage on the way to your brother's."

Claire looked at Stephan, and a bit hesitantly said "you'd like to stand watch for a man who might be looking to do you harm?"

"Surely chivalry is not completely dead dear Madame, I am not accustomed to having a woman look after my safety, for being proper, it ought to be the other way around!" Erik felt himself asserting his protestations beyond that of a man of his years might.

Claire looked at Stephan, giving him a knowing glance she said "alright then, if you insist." She poured cool water over the peeled apples, and put the rest in the bushel on the floor. "I should think you'd be needing this then," she handed him the gun. It felt familiar in his hands, looking at the shank, he saw it bore the same markings as the one he had admired of Nadir's.

"Yes, it is a lovely specimen" Claire said. "Hardly shows the treachery that it can wage if used improperly." Claire looked seriously at Stephan. "If that man moves close to the house, I want you to whistle. My room is not far down this corridor," she pointed down the dark hallway. "It will take me but a moment to find additional weapons to assist." Erik glanced at her and nodded as she disappeared into the dark.

He turned to watch as the man took careful steps closer and closer. It seemed his direction had turned not so much moving toward the Inn now as to the carriage house behind. Erik wasn't sure what to make of it, but he would be watching until first light.

Looking down at the unfinished bushel of apples, and over at the bowl of sliced ones on the counter, he picked up the knife, and slid the bowl back towards him. He was always more comfortable when his hands had something to do, after all, the apples weren't going to peel themselves.

XXXX

Christine had no idea how long she'd been sleeping. She blinked lightly, colored beams of light filling her vision as her eyes came to focus. She instinctively reached out her hand searching the bed next to her….Erik was not there. She grimaced…would he do this often? She liked waking with him at her side, she felt happier when she could gaze upon his sleeping form. Sitting up slightly, she pulled the covers around her. "Erik?" she called out, but there was no answer. He would return, and her eyelids were heavy. She lay back down, nestling beneath the covers, pushing her head into the soft pillows, the silk sheets tickling at her skin. As her lids grew heavy she gazed about the room, the flickering of the candles, the rays of deep blue and green dancing in her view as she drifted back to sleep.

**Author's Notes:**

**Waytoointoerik:** The deep end is a very fine place to be don't you think? Only crazy people can fully appreciate crazy people! Sorry about the cliffe….I seem to like those for some reason. I hope you had a great holiday. I did. I watched fireworks with my 13 year old nephew….he's one that thinks I'm crazy because I watch POTO every night! I guess I'm teaching him what obsession is like! I hope you like the next chapters. Erik and Christine have been having just a little too much relaxation…..

**GlitterQueen of the Ice Show:** Yes, many chapters. It was because of knowing I'd be gone for several days, and because I'd had several reviewers who wanted more. I'm glad you're liking the story. Yes, there are others in the story aside from Erik and Christine, but that is because they all started this journey together, and I cannot seem to leave anyone behind….they either live on through the story, or die at the hand of the author….alas, my murderous intent is fairly fleeting…for right now anyway. Although the more I delve into Erik's dark past….that might change!

**Captain Oblivious:** I'm glad to see that you'd not abandoned me! I was getting worried… Yes, a tortured pair they are. Like many of the "great loves" in literature, they are not destined to have a life of leisure. There is such a strange, fragile line between pain and passion. Without the struggle, the angst….the love would not be as sweet! I hope you enjoyed the literary reference of Lancelot by Tennyson…I tucked that one in for you. Literature lovers I find always like Tennyson. Did you see some similarities between the characters of Erik and Lancelot? If not well fooey….I've got mud on my face!

**Super-girlcom:** Checking for updates? Sounds like me! I have a few stories that I follow too, and my heart leaps in my chest when I find that they've been updated! I'm glad that you're still following the story…things are going to get pretty interesting now….

**Xojulexso: ** Welcome to the family. I'm glad you're enjoying the story. It is fairly unusual for me to be away for so many days in a row…normally I'll update it almost every day. I hope you enjoy the next chapters!

**Seablue4u**: You have several good questions…secret identities are a must for them right now, and Raoul…..well…..you'll just have to keep reading to find out! Hope you enjoy the next chapters!


	55. All things that stir at midnight

**Chapter 55 All Things That Stir On The Midnight Watch**

Nadir shuddered as the horse came to full gallop. He'd not pushed the horse that hard before, and had no idea how long he could maintain that speed. The road was straight, providing little diversion to out-maneuver the pack. He could not gather an accurate count, but feared there were as many as twenty in the lot. It was the first night of the full moon, prime hunting for the wolves. They howled, darting in and out nipping at the horse's legs, never quite getting a hold. Nadir felt like a dead man riding his last. Such a bitter demise was more horror than he could imagine.

His horse panted heavily, Nadir could feel the strain in the animal's shoulders, a last desperate surge in his gate. Ahead there was a hill, and just beyond it laid a river that would have to be crossed. There was a bridge, but Nadir wondered if forging the waters might be better. There was a distance, however slight now, between he and the wolves, and he hoped he could take advantage of it as they mounted and descended the peak. He leaned in closer, hugging his very form to the animal.

Having traveled this way many, many, times, the beast wanted to go to the right, to cross the bridge and continue on the road, but Nadir steered him hard to the left as they passed over the hill into the dark cover of the overgrowth. Splashing into the water, both Nadir and the horse submersed briefly, then the horse found its footing and quickly scrambled up the other bank. Once on firm ground again, Nadir maneuvered him through a thicket just as the pack reached the crest. Looking over his shoulder in a flash he saw that they indeed were pursuing him into the water, rather than taking the much easier route of the bridge. Some entered the frigid currents only to turn back again. The pack circled and howled on the shore as they raised their heads toward the full moon.

Nadir turned about, hunching once again against the horse, moving through the trees until he came to a clearing. In a short time he could rejoin the road, but for now, he would continue on the meadow. It was flat and firm under hoof, a scant snow cover still remaining over the frozen ground. He'd have just over two hours left to his journey, and would never be so glad to see the lights on the carriage house of his sister's inn.

XXXXX

Joseph slept heavily under the weight of the ale that overtook him. The four officers already asleep for hours snored loudly. The single kerosene lantern flickered in the upper loft of the carriage house. Sunrise was several hours off, but soon the light of the morning would infiltrate the walls, waking all who slumbered there.

Joseph's dreams flowed through his subconscious mind, weaving in and out tormenting him. Although his eyes were heavy in slumber, his body was fitful, far from the resting that his aging bones needed. Bright flashes of light, screams in the distance, gunfire, rearing horses. He jerked to an upright state, a thick sweat covered his entire body. This would be the last one he thought to himself, breathing deeply. The last one for sure.

XXXXX

Erik had long since finished peeling the apples, the remnants discarded in a pail by the door. He'd moved on to slicing them thinly as for pie. Having finished that he sat sipping from a cup of coffee he'd just brewed. He thought Claire would mind very little that he'd made himself at home in her kitchen. He'd watched for hours as the man of mystery had plodded, quietly, methodically, to the carriage house, peering in the windows on all sides, and then trudged back through the snow to his hiding place beneath the tree. He had been clever really, no doubt a professional hunter, having carefully taken a branch to mask his prints in the snow. Erik wondered what had been of such fascination in the carriage house.

He was now not at all sure that the man had been looking for him, but doubted little that the officers or the hansom had any reason to be followed. Perhaps he was indeed an assassin sent by De Chagny, thus being expeditious, avoiding a public trial and the like. Yes, if De Chagny was as ruthless a man as his reputation, it would seem to be the swiftest way to resolve the matter for him. Kill the beast, display the body for all of France to see, and put everything else in order. Perhaps he had not fooled the officer at all in his previous interview. Perhaps the officers were not guides, perhaps they were guards keeping a watchful eye on him until such time they were far enough away to allow his plan to take place beyond the scrutiny of the public eye. For what would anyone think of a man shot and killed on such a road? They'd merely pass by assuming the worst, and continue on their own journey.

Yes, perhaps De Chagny deserved his reputation as a cunning adversary.

The question now lingered in Erik's mind, what to do about the coming light. He could leave by lone horse before everyone rose, distracting the pursuer, luring him into the deep woods where Erik could no doubt put a decisive end to him, then return before anyone awoke. That would leave blood on Erik's hands, and no doubt cause him to be pursued ever more fervently. What if it was not Erik that was pursued at all? Perhaps he was looking for someone else? But if he had been, and had not found him, why did he tarry? The right decision eluded him. He wanted nothing more than to be left alone now. To for once in his lifetime have a life that was worth living.

His thoughts traveled back up the winding staircase to the delicate creature that lay in his bed. She was the vision he'd had nearly all his life. Someone to love him, to speak to his soul. She completed him in ways that he hadn't known he was incomplete. His spirit soared when he thought back over the last days he'd spent with her. Although they were dotted with deception, hiding, running, they were overwhelmed with passion, acceptance, and love of the very deepest kind. He never wanted to be apart from her as long as he had breath in his lungs.

He sighed deeply, the lack of rest now registering in his body. He stood, stretching, but quickly retracted as he heard footsteps coming down the still dark hallway.

"Good morning to you Mr. Courtland," Claire greeted him quietly. She came to stand next to where he sat on the stool. "Has he moved much?' Claire asked nodding toward the window. Erik didn't even glance up, but stared out the window. "He went to the windows of the carriage house, peering in each one before retreating to the cover of the pines" he said, a yawn now slipping through his words.

"You must be tired, having sat propped up in that chair all night. I'd offer to make you some coffee, but I see you've found some." Claire glanced around, and then down at the empty bushel on the floor, and back up at Stephan.

"What on earth…" she walked over to the bowl, lifting the cover and found all the perfectly sliced apples submerged in a new cool water bath. "I am not one to sit idle, I hope you do not mind," Stephan said, nodding toward the bowl.

"Not even slightly, it makes my work much lighter this morning." She reached in selecting several slices fingering them. "They're perfect slices, same thickness, the best kind for pie," she paused looking at him "you are quite skilled sir, if I had to say I would guess you are a student of the culinary arts!" She smiled, tossing the slices back into the bowl, taking it to the sink to be drained.

Erik smiled, "not at all, I fancy carving wood, I guess there are some similarities, the use of the knife and the like."

"Indeed. You shall have the first slice of this pie when it is finished good sir, a reward for your assistance." Claire smiled at him briefly.

Stephan smiled back at her before replying "if you feel secure, I think I should like to retire for a few moments before breakfast, perhaps freshen up a bit before." Claire nodded, taking the gun that Stephan extended to her. "I'm glad this wasn't needed last night," she said, looking down at it. "As am I" Stephan replied, and then departed.


	56. Nightmares define the past

Chapter 56 Nightmares define the past 

Sara was deep in her dreams. Most had been pleasant since she'd had such friendly company in the house in recent days. The one that haunted her sleep tonight was dark however, something from her childhood, something she'd tried hard to forget.

Sara moaned, it was starting again. It was their third night traveling with the band of gypsies. Her father had secured her family with a bribe to Gondavia, the ring leader of this traveling swarm. That did not however, prevent them from witnessing the atrocities this sort of life swam in. Sara and her sister never strayed far from their father's side. Although all that were associated with this group knew that they were "off limits" it did not stop the leering looks, or comments under breath.

On the rare occasion that they did travel outside of their father's protective watch it was usually when the group had stopped in a town to perform. One night in particular kept playing over and over in this dream, tormenting Sara to the point of exhaustion. She'd woken several times trying to shake it from her mind, but each time she returned to her bed, it came back like a rushing wind you couldn't hide from.

Sara and her sister were hand in hand, mingling with the throngs of other children who moved in and out of all the freakish sights. The bearded lady, the flame eater, the contortionist, the snake with two heads. The dream would take on a fuzzy tone each time it came to the next part, it was as though her mind was fighting bringing this memory to the surface. Sara tossed and turned, thrashing about in her bed as she hadn't done in many years.

In her dream she began to move past all other things, now behind a large dark curtain, where a ghoulish man beckoned them with a long, filthy finger. There was much activity around a cage in the center of the tent, spitting and poking with sticks, blaspheming and verbal lashings. Sara and her sister were pushed through the adults by the crowd of children rushing in to get a better look.

There in the bottom of the cage, in a mound of muddied hay was a young boy, a burlap sack covering his head. His legs were caked with dried blood, dirt, and every vile thing one could imagine. He wore no shirt to protect him from the elements, and his shivering could have been from the temperature, although it seemed it may have come from the reactions of the throngs that circled his prison.

Sara and her sister stood in horror as she watched the man striking the boy with a whip before pulling the sack from his head to reveal a wretchedly deformed face. Sara saw the terror in the child's eyes, and a deep pang of guilt welled in her for even looking at him filling her with immediate shame. She grabbed her sister's hand pushing her way back through the crowds and out from the tent. They stood holding one another, tears filling their eyes. "How could they do such a cruel thing to such a boy? Surely a mother would never allow for it…maybe she died…maybe…" Sara took her sister into her arms, holding her close trying to hush her.

The other gypsies just looked on with vacant eyes…they'd long since lost sensitivity to such things…it was their way of life…shock and spectacle. Soon Sara could hear the coins dropping, and the mass of shameless on-lookers piled out of the tent. Sara and her sister made their way back to their wagon, climbing in and pulling the drape closed behind them.

"Sister, we must do something for him…I'm not sure what we can do, but something…." The two sat thinking. Surely anything that they did would have to be done in the silence of the night, when all were asleep. They talked of many things. Clothes…no, he would be found with them and just as quickly deprived, perhaps beaten for it. A bath? No…that too would betray him. The pair thought long and hard before coming up with an idea. They would give him a trinket, something he could hide beneath the hay, something that could bring him brief relief when no one was looking.

They dug through their trunks, considering each thing before deciding on a small monkey that had a pair of symbols in his hands. Putting it in a small burlap sack, they tucked in wrapped hard candies, a small crucifix, a washcloth, a tube of salve, a toothbrush. They wanted to put in so much more, but knew the larger the bag, the more easily it would be discovered.

They obeyed their father when he returned, retiring to bed in the back of the wagon. When the moon was high in the sky, and the last of the sounds from the drunkards had ceased, Sara and her sister crept, ever-so-quietly, from the wagon. Dark cloaks around them, they snuck back into the tent.

Inside they were relieved to find that it was empty, save the lonely form lying in the bottom of the cage. They approached slowly, and noticed the boy started to tremble. Surely they could only imagine what he had been witness to. He turned ever so slightly to face what horror awaited him. He scuffled back to the corner of the cage, cowering and pulling the bag even further down to his shoulders. Sara waited until she and her sister were right next to him before she began to whisper, "we mean you no harm."

The boy looked up through the cut-outs in the bag. Sara could see his pleading eyes. He could be no more than four or five, terrified beyond what she had ever known. "My sister and I have brought you a few things. We knew you couldn't have much or it would be discovered." She paused looking around the tent before she continued. "Are we alone now? Is it safe for us to stay awhile?" The boy nodded, but never spoke.

Sara and her sister sat down next to the cage, Sara lifting the corner of her dress she produced a bag of food and a jug of milk. The boy neither grabbed or behaved wildly, waiting as Sara handed it to him, uttering a small "thank you."

He pulled the salted meat first, carefully pulling off a piece, pushing it up under the bag that covered his face. He lifted the milk to his mouth, pushing up the bag just enough to drink from it. They sat in silence as he finished everything that Sara and her sister had brought for him, except the apple, that he tucked in a small bag beneath the hay.

Sara then reached beneath her cloak again, producing a second small bag, this one containing the items she and her sister had selected. "This is not much, but we pray that it will bring you some comfort." Sara handed it to him through the bars of the cage, his dirt covered hand touching hers. He tucked it under the hay, and scurried back to the corner of the cage. Sara winced, she wished she could hug the poor little boy.

"We can sit with you for awhile…talk if you'd like." The small boy moved slowly back to the side of the cage. "My name is Sara, and this is my sister Ruth. My family is traveling with your caravan until we find a suitable place to make our home." She waited for him to respond, but he did not. "What is your name?" Ruth asked quietly. A single strained word came from beneath the burlap "Erik." Sara smiled, "well then Erik, would you like me to tell you a story?" The small boy nodded.

Sara began to weave a tale about a princess in a castle, fairies and toads. They'd been sitting a long while, just listening to the story as Sara crafted it. "And then, the toad jumped into a deep puddle splashing the mud all over the wicked sister." The boy began to laugh…it was an odd laugh really… Sara sat straight up in her bed. The room was dark now, the cool of the night had settled in, but she felt like she was on fire… "ERIK?" That laugh had been familiar…but could it possibly be? She flopped back down against her pillow. In the morning she'd go to the Opera House to talk to the managers to find out where they had traveled to….she had to find out….


	57. Fragments

Chapter 57 Fragments 

Raoul sat staring out the window of his room as the first hints of sunrise were appearing on the horizon. Strewn about him on the floor were the many letters that he and Christine had exchanged during their brief engagement. Several older ones he had on his lap. They were among his prized possessions, from when they were children, and had first realized they had a childish attraction to one another. The words were simple and sweet, Christine being so young had only been writing for several years, and her vocabulary was limited to single syllables. Those were the letters he cherished most. He'd saved them in an old wooden trunk, reading them occasionally when he was feeling blue.

He'd loved her for so many years, part consciously, part less so. He had small envelopes of pressed flowers, now mostly fragments. She had loved to pick wild flowers for him, and they'd spent hours looking in books trying to discover the genes. A few seashells were in the box, some new, mingling with those from days long past.

The box brought him an odd comfort; it was all he had left of her now. He vacillated between smiles and tears of sorrow so quickly that it scared him. He felt angry, abandoned, lonely. It was hard to describe the ebb and flow of his emotions, it reminded him slightly of when his mother died, but this was far more raw now.

A knock at the door startled him back to reality, "enter" he called out. His father walked into the room. "Good, you are awake, although I dare say not ready for the day." Raoul had not even tried to hide the letters, it mattered little to him what his father thought of them.

"Here, this might help a bit," his father handed him a dark cup of coffee so strong that Raoul could almost taste it before it touched his lips. It was much to his annoyance that his father liked thick coffee and was an earlier riser than anyone else he'd ever known. He'd often chided his father when he was still at home that "the bats should be in bed before the early bird rises." In his youth his father had laughed at that comment, he doubted that it would elicit the same response from him now.

The elder De Chagny glanced down at the parchments scattered about and decided to act as though he'd not noticed them. "Son, we've a meeting at the Opera House after breakfast. Some of the principals shall be there, we need to be in good form to greet them." He patted his son firmly on the shoulder and left the room. Raoul was used to this formal treatment from his father, and as time passed it would no doubt become more callous, the pity for his son's grieving would only last so long.

Raoul gathered all the letters, re-bundling them with the twine and putting them back in his trunk. He had no doubt he'd visit them again and again until the pain of his loss subsided.

He mechanically put on his clothing, finishing with a brown topcoat. He looked himself over in the mirror. A gentleman indeed, a hollow dead look in his eyes. Yes, he felt like the walking dead….how many times he'd seen that in the eyes of others who'd lost their loved ones…now he understood.

He walked out of his room and down the stairs to the dining room as the first rays of morning light began to spill into the eastern half of the house. His father had already begun breakfast but stood briefly acknowledging his joining. "It will be a good day…yes…I can feel it will." His father said smiling at Raoul, sipping from his dark cup.

XXXXX

Madame Giry was awake now, stretching she stared up at the lace canopy that covered the bed. It reminded her of her room when she was but a little girl. Her family had been of modest means, but her mother had insisted that every little girl must feel like a princess. She had painted the ceiling above her bed with cherubs and doves, a silk canopy had covered her bed, thin enough to see the figures on the ceiling. Madame Giry smiled.

Meg was still sound asleep in the next bed. The sun was barely peeking into the window of the bedroom, time to rise. "Meg, my dear, it is time to wake," Madame Giry said. A garbled hmmmp could be heard coming from Meg's face which was buried into her pillow. She was comfortable, and had no intentions of moving any sooner than absolutely necessary.

Madame Giry sat up stretching her arms high above her, rising from the bed she walked to the window seat and perched. She would take in the treat of the rising sun, a luxury she seldom had time for. There was a knock at the door. She rose, opening it found a tiny pot of coffee and a fresh scone with clotted cream. She looked down the hall but the maid had already gone. Such a treat indeed. She brought it into the room, resting the platter on the table. She took the cup, saucer, and scone in hand, returning to the window to enjoy the sunrise.

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Christine was still sleeping when Erik snuck back into the room. He'd taken off his coat and deposited it on the back of the chair. It took minutes only to be back in his robe, nestling ever so gently at Christine's side. He lifted her arm, draping it across his chest. Christine inhaled deeply, snuggling in, she put her head on his chest, kissing it tenderly before resting her cheek. "It is so nice of you to join me…" her voice faded into a tired sigh.

Erik winced, knowing he could not pretend that he had been there all night as he had hoped. He rolled over onto his side, putting Christine's head on his arm, he came to rest, one arm under her, the other caressing her neck, pulling the dark tendrils away from her face, placing them behind her, exposing the tender flesh of her neck. She smiled, opening her eyes sleepily, batting them wistfully at Erik as she did. The room was barely lit now, the candles having gone out, and only slivers of light crossed over into the room through the high stained glass window above the bed, giving it a kaleidoscopic glow.

Christine was a happy tired. Erik lay staring at her for a few minutes before reaching out to place a light kiss on her neck. Christine shuddered, the touch of his lips sent a tickle down to her core. Erik laughed a little, nestling his face in her neck, pulling her close to him. She wiggled until every inch of her skin touched some part of him. He was much taller than she, her extended toes barely touching his ankles. She could never feel close enough too him, wishing she could somehow climb inside his very being, taking shelter there in the warmth of his heart.

Her arms were wrapped tightly around his chest, as she squeezed him with all her might. He let out another little laugh, her attempts to tease him were undoubtedly meager at best. He pushed her to her back, holding her down with his hands he began to kiss her forehead, then each temple, each cheek, both sides of her neck, her collarbone, each shoulder. His face coming to rest under her chin, he laid down as she pulled her arms behind his shoulders, gracefully running her hands over his back. They both sighed in unison, a comfortable, relaxed sigh. There was such a contentment in the air, it was almost palpable.

Erik closed his eyes as Christine's hand wandered up to his head, her fingers running aimlessly through his hair. She was a siren, his siren, and he'd love her forever. He drifted off into a blissful sleep. Christine smiled as she felt Erik's exhaling and inhaling falling into a rhythmic pattern aligned with her own. The sensation of his warm breath on her chest was enflaming, but he needed rest. She knew the only way he would have been away from her last night is if he'd been up keeping watch, over what she knew not. Breakfast could wait, his rest was more important, and she needed to be there holding him through it.

**Author's Notes:**

**Captain Oblivious:** Yes, Tennyson is one of my favorites. I'd love to read Kay's book as well, but it is so difficult to find. I've but fragments of the story really, mostly as retold by others. The stranger in the woods….perhaps he serves a purpose…perhaps not…he may be an anomaly, or he may hold the key to a future event…hmmmmm. I have one clue for you…..REVENGE! I think you might be on to something. So, have you decided to be a gardener for Erik? Or is the grass not still growing where you are? Hope you enjoy the next chapters!

**Waytoointoerik:** Pounding hearts are my passion…for without them what do we have? We all LIVE for those few brief moments in our life that make our hearts pound! If your friends think you mad, just remind them that some of the most brilliant minds in history were thought to be mad…Einstein…Emerson….Walden….Tennyson….Tolstoy, the list is endless. If you are crazy…you are in seriously great company! Speaking of reading too much, did you ever get the POTO Companion? If not, it is a great book, one that you can get on It is what limped me through until the movie came out on DVD. It has the entire history of the story as it traveled from page, to stage, to film. Just a suggestion if you don't already have it. My copy sits on my night table along with several other favorites. Hope you enjoy the next chapters….more heart pounding I fear….is on the way!

**Pertie**: Welcome to the family! Yes, I have spent many, many, hours writing the story, but alas it is a labor of love. The characters feel like family to me now! I am a hopeless romantic, and this is such a gothic romance that it calls to me, nay, commands me to serve it! I hope you enjoy the next chapters!


	58. The World Wake

**Chapter 58 The World Wakes**

The ground was hard, giving little to the sloshing of the large layers of snow that were quite literally falling from the branches of the large pine in the woods. The man woke, his head laying on the thick, coarse, blanket that was on the nettled pines beneath the tree. The horse was up munching on the scant sprigs of greens that had managed to poke through the snows.

He rubbed his chin, clawing at his cap bringing it over his exposed ears. It was warmer than the previous night already, but still not to his liking. The sun would be fully up soon, and the guests would surely be bustling about. His best chance for success would come just as they'd prepare to leave the inn, witnesses of the law being present. The bounty was good. After tonight he'd be in a fine bed, a hot bath, and the pleasure of much fonder company than that of the horse. A fine bottle of brandy would be his first reward, he'd see to that. He rose, straightening his coat. There would be no coffee this morning, nor hot breakfast. He reached inside his coat pulling out a large hunk of dried meat and began picking at it. It was hardly suitable, but would have to do until later. The carriage house was dark, and there was nothing to be done but wait.

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Nadir could feel an overwhelming sense of tired trying to claim him. How he wished that the night had been different, for this morning he'd be enjoying a hot cup of café' ole with Erik, in the comfort of his home. His mind wandered to what he might find when he arrived. He knew his sister's property well, having helped her fence in the majority of it when she first decided to have stables. The woods were full of wolves, and they did not fit well with trying to maintain a hospitable environment.

Rounding the last turn past the large grove of trees, he could see the Candlelight Inn in the distance. He'd have to leave the main road, traveling around back so as to go undetected until he could fully put the situation into perspective. He needed to talk to Claire, but now with sun rising it would be impossible to avoid the guests and stable hands. He would figure something out, and he had better do it quickly.

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The loud clank of the heavy coffee pot rang in Joseph's head. The maid had brought in the breakfast for the stable hands, as well as coffee and scones for him and the officers. "Breakfast will be served at 7:30 sharp, in the dining room." With that she abruptly turned and walked back to the house muttering under her breath, "drunkards."

The first officer rose, the aroma from the cranberry and orange scones greeting his nostrils. He kicked at the bed of the second and the third officers as he made his way to the table to pour a cup of coffee. "Fair nights sleep considering we're penniless now" the last waking officer said as he too made his way to the table where the others were busily devouring the morning breads. "When will you be heading to the blacksmith's shop?" he said looking over at Joseph who was still reclining.

"Best be getting to that I guess, if we've any hope to leave before lunch." Joseph attempted to pull himself upright, but had to roll to the side to make his way around his own expanding middle. He splashed a bit of water on his face, rubbing it around. He took a cup of coffee, and spying the last scone on the plate with four other pairs of hungry eyes on it, he reached in quickly snatching. "There will be plenty more at breakfast my good sirs, and I'll be with the blacksmith while you're enjoying it." He pushed in the last of it, gulping down the coffee as he walked to the door. He fetched his horse and went to knock on the door of the house.

"Will you be needing a guide sir?" the young man asked who answered the door. "I don't believe I could find it myself,….if its not too much trouble." The young man stepped back inside and gathered his cloak. "It's a short walk, but take the horse if you prefer." Joseph mounted his horse, feeling rather like a pony being led in a circus, he watched as the younger man took the reins leading him down the path out onto the road.

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Claire was in the kitchen and noticed the sudden activity under the tree. The man stood, staring curiously at the hansom as he was being led down the road by the young master. Claire reached over for the gun that was discreetly placed under a dishcloth on the counter. She wasn't sure what he was up to, and he'd have little chance to explain if he made one wrong move she thought to herself. She watched a long while before the man went back to the base of the tree and sat down beneath it.

Soon the dining room was filling up, the officers being the first to arrive, followed by Madame Giry and Meg. Coffee and other sweet breads were on the table, awaiting the last two morning guests before bringing out the proper breakfast.

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Christine had slipped from underneath Erik, allowing him to rest and stretch on the comfortable feather tick. She'd already ignored the much earlier knock on the door, and a second that was most certainly Meg. She slipped into the gray wool dress she'd donned the day before, her dowdy wardrobe being rather limited. She quickly powdered her hair, streaking her face, pulling an odd sort of old bonnet over he head. It looked positively ridiculous, but something an older woman might do.

She took one last look at Erik as he lay peacefully sleeping. He'd understand if he woke up…after all…it was her turn to play the disappearing act! She smiled as she closed the door, making her way down the stairs to the dining room. She nearly tripped on the tray that was outside her door, feeling half guilty that she'd let the hot coffee go to waste. The two hours spent holding Erik had been worth it though, she thought as she lifted the tray taking it with her downstairs.

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Breakfast was full of the usual pleasantries. The officers spent much of their time trying to entertain Meg, much to Christine's chagrin. She and Madame Giry made polite conversation as older women might, trying feebly to ignore the chattering of the "youngsters."

"Did Stephan sleep well?" Christine could feel herself blushing, the events of the previous night flashing through her mind. "Yes, it was a peaceful night, the accommodations are quite luxurious."

Madame Giry nodded as she took a bite of her fruit. "He did stir once last night, to what cause I am uncertain," Christine whispered as Claire was reaching over her shoulder to replenish her coffee.

"Perhaps you could join me in the kitchen for a moment when you are finished, I've a question about the lunch I'm packing for you" she said looking Christine in the eye. Christine nodded, a bit worried now that there was something she did not know, but ought to. Her appetite suddenly gone, she sat for a few proper moments before excusing herself from the table.

"Elizabeth, close the door behind you dear." Claire motioned to her as she came into the kitchen. "We haven't much time. I've spoken to Stephan. From your comments I gather you noticed his absence from your bed last night." Claire looked Christine in the eye for confirmation. Christine somewhat bewildered by what this woman knew.

"I am Nadir's sister Claire." Christine still looked on in puzzlement. She started, "I'm quite sorry, I don't know…" Claire interrupted. "It seems that your new husband has much yet to tell you." She stood, peering over her shoulder out the window, and then back at Christine.

"Last night Stephan sat watch over the man that is out under the shelter of that large tree." Claire pointed to the pine. Christine could barely make out an image of a man huddled beneath it. "I first noticed him last night, and remembering what my brother had told me about your husband having many enemies, I was naturally concerned for your safety."

Christine looked at Claire in horror, not really knowing what to say to her…how much did she know? Claire continued "Stephan sat watch all night" she laughed, lifting the cover to the bowl containing the apple slices "he even busied himself peeling and slicing!" Christine smiled at her politely, thinking perhaps she was a bit mad, or had taken leave of her senses.

Claire continued, "I've not much time to explain the details but, you and your husband will be leaving soon with your nieces, and I fear for your safety. I can only hope that the midnight messenger I dispatched to my brother delivered my urgent message. All should be in suitable order when you arrive there." Claire glanced once more at the yard, and then focused seriously on Elizabeth.

"My dear, I don't know how long you've been married, but my brother said you were on your honeymoon. It has always been my belief a wife should be prepared to care for herself in the event her husband is unable to." Claire walked over to the cloth on the counter, lifting it, pulling out the pistol that was beneath it. Walking back to Christine, she handed it to her forcing her hand under the folds of her skirt. "Take this with you my dear. If you should find that you need to use it, do not hesitate to defend yourself."

Christine looked at her, now clammy and pale. She'd never fired a gun, much less ever held one, and now one was pressed into her side. "When you arrive at my brother's house, you may return it to him, and he will see that it is returned to me." Claire looked insistently at Elizabeth. "Now, go rejoin your family, pretending we talked of bread and the like."

Claire shooed Elizabeth toward the door. Claire said as Christine's hand was on the door. "I dare say it is wonderful that a man and woman of your years are able to find happiness." Christine smiled back at her. She was confused, she was flustered, she was so many things too difficult to describe. She felt exposed as Claire pushed her back through the door. She looked flushed, immediately going to Madame Giry's side.

"I think I should like to retire for a brief rest while the carriage is put in order for our departure." Christine's eyes were wide as she looked at Madame Giry, her back facing the rest. "Oh, why, certainly dear aunt. Here let me help you." Madame Giry rose, putting her hand under Christine's elbow, leading her over to the stairs. Meg looked on, a bit concerned, but deciding it best she stay so as not to attract undue attention. Besides, she was rather enjoying the company.


	59. Protector

Chapter 59 Protector 

Christine didn't have to act like she was out of breath, she was certain that at any moment she would lose consciousness, her face pale, her lips taut. Her breathing shallow and forced, straining to inhale. She nearly collapsed as Madame Giry led her inside her room. Christine dropped to the side of Madame Giry's bed, putting her head in her hands she began to sob. Madame Giry was at her side, her hand on Christine's back trying to soothe her.

"Whatever did that woman say to you that frightened you so?" Madame Giry asked, running her hands over Christine's dark locks. Christine tried to speak, but her words were indistinguishable. "My dear, you must calm yourself, you'll hyperventilate!" Madame Giry said to her, acting out a slow breathing pattern, motioning to Christine to follow suit. Christine tried, although difficult, she managed to stifle her hysterics briefly.

"She…she…gave me this!" Christine pulled the gun from beneath her dress, thrusting it into Madame Giry's hand.

Madame Giry stood, placing one hand over her mouth, gasping. "Whatever for? Why did she think you'd have need for such a thing?" Madame Giry's eyes began to dart back and forth in the room as though she was expecting someone to jump out from behind a dresser or divan.

Christine pulled in a labored breath, wheezing she whispered "we've been followed…there is a man…there is a man…" Madame Giry was once again at her side. "What is this you speak of, what man? Where is he? Does Erik know?" Christine shook her head. "Yes….he knows…he was up last night watching him…that is why he didn't come to breakfast. He never spoke of it."

Madame Giry, in a very unladylike fashion dropped to the ground, back against the bed, feet splayed out in front of her. "What on earth could he want? Has he presented himself to the innkeeper? Perhaps he is a sentry to guide or guard…." Madame Giry offered, not believing a word of the shallow comfort herself.

"Who is Nadir?" Christine asked, wiping her face, the powder dissolving into a paste on her skin.

Madame Giry sighed and began, "that was a very long time ago….why do you ask of such things?"

Christine looked back at her "Claire, the innkeeper, is Nadir's sister. She said that her brother had warned her that we might come, and that Erik had many enemies. She believes that the man might be one of them!" Christine's lips began to quiver, her face contorted in a pain far beyond her years. "There is so much I don't know about Erik…isn't there?" Her glassy eyes looking pitifully at Madame Giry.

Madame Giry slipped her arm around Christine's shoulder. "My dear….we all have things we've not shared with another living soul….Erik has never had anyone care enough for him to wonder about his past or care about his future….some things he will share with you in time…others…." she paused and swallowed hard… "let us just pray that he can forget them, and learn to be loved."

Christine lifted her head, wiping her eyes. "I must go to him, tell him what she's given me, ask him what to do." Madame Giry patted Christine on the shoulder, and stood over her, straightening her petticoats.

"Christine, I have been your ballet mistress for many years, and given you much advice about movement, poise, and the like. Not wanting to trample on your mother's memory, personal matters were not talked about, but now I must offer you some unsolicited advice. Do watch for Erik's temper. He has known few he could trust. He is fiercely protective with what he loves…and my dear…he has loved you since first he laid eyes on you. Do not expect that he will well receive your information, it may make him, well, let us just say that he will not take kindly to your thinking about having to defend yourself. It was quite bold of Claire to give this to you without talking to him first." Christine nodded.

She would have to learn how to deal with Erik's in all matters…this was just the beginning. She opened the door to the hallway, looking back at Madame Giry who was still resting on the floor by the bed, "I shall do my best…pray for us both."

Christine walked quickly to her room, the ballet training having perfected her light steps, agile and light as a gazelle she barely creaked a board underfoot. Opening the door to her room, seeing the bed empty, her eyes quickly turned to the window. There Erik stood, black waist pants on, feet and chest still bare. She closed the door, and moved toward him. He turned embracing her warmly, but then leaned back, tensing at the sight of her face puffy now from the tears she had been shedding.

"Christine, my dear, what causes you to weep so?" He kissed each of her cheeks, reaching down to take her hands into his, but Christine backed away. Erick flinched, this had been the first time he'd felt any response remotely cold from Christine since their wedding night, and somewhere deep inside it frightened him. "Christine?"

She didn't know how to broach the subject so she merely reached beneath her dress and produced the gun. Erick's eyes turned wide, a frightening rage flashed in them. "Where did you get this?" he sneered coming forward, snatching it from her hand. His eyes searching her face with a curious hunger. "Claire…for our safety…." Erik spun on his heels, walking back toward the window. Christine, fearfully uttered, "he's still out there…we saw him from the kitchen."

Erik pressed his eyes closed. "What else has that woman told you?" he snapped at her coldly. "Just that you have many enemies…and that she is Nadir's sister…." Erik swallowed, staring blankly out the window. He'd hoped to keep this part of his past away from Christine's delicate heart, so that she could love the Erik that she knew…not the Erik that he had been. Now the two worlds were colliding and it frightened him.

"Who is Nadir Erik? What enemies does she speak of? Are there others that hunt you now?" Erik could hear loud noises in his head, lights flashing before him, people mocking and poking at him, nooses, gunfire, splattering blood, chanting. "Erik?" Christine could see him trembling.

He flew around the room, waiving the gun above his head, too and fro. "It was another time…another life…Nadir is an old friend…I've just made his sister's acquaintance yesterday….there is nothing more to say about that now." He huffed as his hand caressed the gun in his palm. "You shan't be needing this, I am here to protect you…no harm can come to you…to any of you…as long as I am here!" Erik tried hard to stifle the seething rage that was growing inside of him. HE WAS A MAN! He was more than a man, he was a legend! HE COULD PROTECT THEM! His chest heaved as he tried to calm himself…for Christine had never seen this side of him, and it was sure to terrify her.

Christine took off her bonnet, and walked to the water closet shutting the door. Once inside she fell to her knees raising a fervent prayer. "Please let this be over soon…please protect us…"

There were several long moments of penetrating silence. The door behind her flew open, Erik rushed in and swept her up into his arms, holding her face close to his neck. "I shall be here to protect you….." his voice muffled by the mounds of dark curls. "You shall come to no harm…I'll see to it. I do not yet know what it is this man wants, but he will be dealt with at the appropriate time, do not worry, all will be well with us."

Christine grabbed him about the neck, holding on as tightly as she could as he sheltered her with his strong arms. She felt safe, but part of her couldn't help but wonder where the gun had gone. Claire had entrusted her with that, and she had decided to keep her word.

As he stood holding his most precious possession in his arms, Erik struggled with a fraught inner turmoil. He'd not wanted her to know of his past with Nadir. He wanted him to be a simple acquaintance, a new friend, in Christine's eyes. He'd sheltered her from the nefarious secrets of his previous existence. She'd come to love the changed Erik, the one who loved and served music, who shaped her voice, who loved her. He was no longer that wicked spirit. She'd changed him….improved him….healed him….saved him.


	60. Of Breath and Blood

Chapter 60 Of Breath and Blood 

Sara was at the door of the Opera Populaire just after the morning papers had been delivered. They'd been collected from the stoop, so surely someone was already inside.

Trying the latch, finding it open she wandered inside. She'd been in the foyer years ago when her husband was still alive. Even in its' present state, it was still astoundingly grand and beautiful. Sara wasn't quite sure where the office of administration would be, but guessed it was behind the stairs, so she proceeded there, calling out a faint inquiry. "Hello…is there anyone here? Hello….." She wandered through several charred dressing rooms, a room that was likely for props. The further she moved the more intense the damage became so she retreated to the foyer again, scratching at her head beneath her cap.

"May I help you?" A short man with a full head of curly gray hair said approaching her. "We are closed now, and are not looking to hire…" Sara interrupted. "No, I am not looking for employment, I'm an innkeeper, I'd had Madame Giry and her daughter staying with me since the, since the…." She stopped.

"Yes, yes, what is it that you want?" he said a bit agitatedly. "Well, I've come to see about their present address, as I know Madame Giry left the information with her employers, and I.." the man interrupted her "yes, we have the address but it is of little business for an innkeeper as she will be gone for several months" he turned walking back up the stairs.

"No, I'm quite afraid that she's forgotten some of her things at my inn, some delicate items I'm sure she'll miss very soon." The man sighed disgustedly as his ire grew. "Very well then. I'll have a messenger bring the information to you after I've discussed it with the Patron." He turned on his heels marching back up the stairs and disappearing down the hall.

Sara stood in the foyer alone again. "So this is what all the fuss is about?" she thought to herself, shaking her head. She walked back across the street to her inn. She hoped the messenger wouldn't be too long, she'd want to employ a hansom before noon if she'd have any hope in catching them.

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Nadir slowly approached from the rear of the inn, keeping a safe distance as he searched the perimeter with his eyes. Surely the horse would give away the man's position as it would be out of place in a thicket or wood so close to someone's property.

Nadir decided to rest his beast and continue on foot. Knowing the woods would be full of wolves and the like, he walked his horse to the fence, throwing a heavy blanket over the barbs on the wire, he pushed it down with his foot, guiding his somewhat hesitant horse over it, lashing him lightly to the nearest tree. A good pat on his side, Nadir retrieved a jug of water and a bag of oats before moving into the dense trees behind his sister's inn.

He'd not traveled far before he could hear faint rustling of the fallen autumn leaves that hadn't been touched by the winter snows. The canopy of trees here were so thick it almost made this part impervious; seemingly escaping even mother-nature's hand. Nadir drew the gun from his belt as he moved stealthily toward where he had heard the sound. He was quite adept at traveling quietly, having been a military man himself. Having fought side-by-side with Erik countless times, he knew of many tactics to stalk one's prey, catching them unaware.

In ten minutes time he was beside the man's horse beneath the pine. Equestrian training had prepared Nadir well to subdue the horse before it's neighing could betray his presence. Nadir quietly approached the large blanket that lay beneath the tree. Alas the bed was empty.

The morning light grew brighter in the distance beyond the trees, drawing Nadir's attention to the movement that lay a hundred yards ahead of him. Straining to see what it might be, he could barely perceive the outline of a man in a cloak. Nadir lowered his head, pulling in his own tightly about him, so it might not snag or disturb anything as he began. The hunt was on, and he'd not stop until his appetite was satisfied.

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Joseph had returned with the horseshoe, the horse now shod, a pair of extra shoes in his kit, and the happy news that the blacksmith's wife had delivered not one but a pair of healthy boys. He busied himself readying the carriage, reaffixing the harnesses and the like. The officers were dressed and watching on as the stable boys finished a light grooming of their horses.

Joseph's mind wandered to the day ahead. He wondered if the officers were now heading back to Paris, or if they intended to follow them on to the next inn. His thoughts were interrupted by the first officer who approached from behind, he jumped a foot.

"Good man, I'd dare say you're a bit jumpy this morning!" Joseph smiled back at him, "just anticipating the ride sir…so….what are your intentions…are you heading back to Paris this morning?" "We've just been discussing that very issue. We were instructed to accompany this family to their original destination and then return by mid-day today. If we are to now continue on, we will be out of our usual duty, and not having opportunity to arrange a messenger to inquire with Monsieur DeChagny, we feel we must return to Paris….that is if you feel sufficiently secure that you shan't be needing our protection."

Joseph smiled wickedly to himself, blanking his face before turning to address the officer. "I do say that it has been a fairly uneventful trip thus far, I cannot imagine there would be anything unusual from this point forward…the most excitement will likely rise from the landscape, as I fear this road is fairly mundane."

The officer smiled, having elicited the response he hoped for. His men being anxious to return to retrieve their reward, and to dine with Monsieur DeChagny at the Starboard as planned this evening.

"Then it is all agreed. We shall see you off, and then head back to Paris." Joseph nodded. "I must say I'll miss the good competition at cards this evening though!" The officer laughed as he walked back to his men, nodding at them.

Joseph was relieved. By mid-day he'd be off on his way, a bit lighter load than that he'd been carrying before. Yes, this was the last one, he'd promised himself before retiring last night.

XXX

Erik calmed himself enough to finish repacking the few things he'd taken out. He and Christine passed each other in silence in the very same room that beheld their fiery passions not twelve hours before. Christine wanting to allow Erik time to collect his thoughts, Erik wanting to give Christine time to accept his apology. The hansom was ready and waiting downstairs.

XXXX

Meg and Madame Giry were packed, their luggage at the door, and were cheerfully conversing with Claire in the foyer. "Thank you for your hospitality last evening. It was most pleasant and considerate of you as we certainly were unexpected guests." Madame Giry said to Claire as she sipped on a cup of hot tea. Claire smiled at her, no realization that Madame Giry knew of the events of the previous evening, or the gun she'd entrusted to Christine. "It was my pleasure" Claire said.

They turned as they heard a shuffle on the stairs. Stephan and Elizabeth stood at the top, looking like they might topple down the flight with their canes. Meg scampered up the stairs, taking the traveling bags in her hands and bringing them to the bottom before returning to offer her assistance to them one by one.

Soon the group gathered at the back door of the Inn, exchanging formal words of thanks as they made their way to the side of the carriage. The officers were all mounted on their horses, looking rather regal and dignified, two on either side of the carriage. The site of the officers comforted the foursome as they walked toward the carriage. It would be difficult for anyone to breech such security, Erick let out a small relieved breath.

Joseph helped first Meg, then Madame Giry, and next Elizabeth into the carriage. Erik stood outside the carriage, rearranging his coat, and extending his cane toward the door.

A sudden scream came from behind them, making both he and Joseph whirl around. A man came rushing out from the side of the house, a gun in one hand, and a large piece of crumpled paper in the other. "I am here to take this beast back to Paris where he is wanted on charges of murder!"

Erik's heart leapt in his chest as the officers on horses began to move around frantically, each having drawn their weapon. Both Erik and Joseph began to back up moving closer and closer to the side of the carriage. The man shouted out again "he's a murderer, he must be brought to justice, blood of many are on his head!" The first officer approached the man, weapon drawn as he retrieved the crumpled paper from the his hand, returning to the others that had now gathered in a small group in front of the horses attached to the carriage.

Neither Joseph nor Erik moved. Erik's mind reeled as he thought of the promise he had made to Christine just moments ago. He'd promised to protect her, to keep her from harm, now she would surely watch as his life was taken from him, something no wife should have to endure, but he could not save her from even this fate.

He worked himself slowly, but ever closer to the side of the carriage. His sword was in its' belly, but he didn't know if he could retrieve it before he'd be shot dead…or even if it made sense to do it now, for what good would it do? Joseph moved ever closer to Erik, the purpose was not evident to Erik, perhaps it was the man's fear, or instinct?

The triangle stood in a stale mate as the officers studied the paper, looking back at the men standing next to the carriage. "Is it true?" one officer yelled out. Erik stood motionless, he'd admit to nothing, he'd give them no satisfaction.

In the distance could be heard stamping boots, everyone turned toward where they could hear the noise. "Stop that man, he's…." just as Nadir appeared from the side of the house, Joseph grabbed Erik about the neck, sticking a sharp object into his side. Erik could tell the man's skill as the knife was positioned just over his liver, and a blow there would surely kill him. Erik was confused, thinking that even now his hansom had been part of the plan. Erik struggled slightly as the knife pierced the first layers of his clothes and now rested on his skin.

Erick caught site of Nadir just as he drew his weapon aiming it at Joseph, pulling the trigger. At that precise moment Joseph pushed Erik in front of him, three shots rang out. Erik flinched as blood began to spurt from his side, he felt himself going cold. Christine was the last thing that flashed through his mind as he hit the ground, his face now turned as he fell, he could see her leaning out of the carriage, mouth gaping.

He had felt the arms of the man release him as he fell. Now next to him on the ground was Joseph, blood trickling from his mouth, his expression blank, a gaping wound that bled profusely on his back. Erik turned his head back to look at Christine as he lost consciousness, his eyes traveling from her face down to her hand, there in it was what Claire had given to her….he winced as the white light flooded over him, loud ringing filled his mind and everything went black.

Nadir fell to his knees, dropping his pistol to the ground, Claire coming out of the house rushed to his side. "Nadir…what has happened?" A terrified shriek came out of Nadir's throat. "They never even gave…" The first officer had dismounted and was now standing over Nadir. Using his foot, he pushed the pistol just beyond Nadir's grasp.

"Thank you for your assistance, your quick thinking may have spared that poor man's life," he said looking down. "What?" Nadir turned his head up and through bleary eyes tried to make out the officer's face. "But he is on the ground, bleeding…saved his life…" "He's a letch really, saved the crown a bit of sterling you did by putting a swift end to him." The officer smiled and looked at the paper in his hand.

Nadir felt rage growing in him. "That man was.." Nadir's face fell to the piece of crumpled paper that the officer dropped to the ground in front of him. There on the ink stained parchment was a picture. Scrawling below it smudged now, barely legible. "Wanted: Joseph Crawling Alleged crime: Murder and robbery of Francis DePlout and his wife and two daughters. Murder and robbery Frederick Rions, his mother, sister, and nephew. Murder and robbery of Claire Aubury and her maid. Murder mademoiselle Sara DuPrie and her sister Catherine DeMiex. Highest reward for the return of said person, dead or alive." A picture of the man now lying next to Erik was etched above the inscription. Nadir gasped…he hadn't been after Erik after all. He lowered his head to the ground and began to weep bitterly.

There on the ground lay three men. One dead, one bleeding, one with a leg broken clean through from the bullet that had come from the house. One would be buried that day, the other mended, the last…his life held in a precarious balance, the pull of this world and the shadow of the next both staking claim to his soul.

**Author's Notes:**

Yikes, I know a couple of you would like to strangle me right now…but please understand….

**Captain Oblivious:** Yes it is amazing sometimes how small the world actually is! We are all spinning around on this singular sphere together, some lives intertwined, some not, but we are all in this together! Nobody gets out alive…not even people that live only in our minds….. Now I've gone and gotten all nostalgic….another bad habit of mine I'm afraid. Please forgive my recent dive into the world of blood…it was as inevitable as death itself!

**CrayAnn:** Right now I'm sure you're pounding the top of your computer, wishing you knew where I lived! I promise you, do not give up hope…I am not a fatalist…. Perhaps all will be forgiven in the morning…..

Squishmich: Welcome to the family! I have no idea how long it will be before you happen upon this reply, so I'll date it for you 7-7-5. I hope you've enjoyed the story so far, and follow along with us as we ride this sometimes bumpy roller-coaster!


	61. Mending Angel

Chapter 61 Mending Angel 

He opened his eyes groggily. The room was hazy, his eyes heavy as he attempted to lift his head but could not. The ceiling above him deep mahogany, beveled edge wood, crown molding, carved cornices. He blinked several times trying to estimate his present surroundings. The curtains to his right fluttered slightly, the sheer white gauze dancing as the warm breeze entered and left the room.

He breathed in just slightly stopping as the pain in his left side grabbed him sharply. He moved his hand to the source, feeling a large white bandage wrapped tightly about his middle. He ran his hand up his chest, to his neck and finally his face. His mask was not there, and although he could feel no other garments on his body, save the bare essentials. It was in the end, the absence of his mask that made him feel naked.

Erik tried in vain to draw his right arm up off the bed but felt so weak that he soon abandoned the venture. The warm breeze wafted in again, raising the curtains halfway up into the air before they fluttered back down to be drawn up firmly to the window. The sensation of the traveling breeze was a treat to his skin. He sensed it was a warm day outside, turning his head he could see the bright sun shining beyond the overhang of the roof. He could hear the slap of water meeting the shore, and he knew in an instant where he was….he was home. It was not a dream, he was not…. dead.

His heart leapt, he needed to know, so much information escaped him. He needed desperately to know what happened, where was Christine, Nadir, Madame Giry, Meg? He tried to call out but his throat was parched, his voice so faint from lack of use that it squeaked like a newborn's faint cry. He lay back down, resigning himself to the fact that his stirring would have to be discovered, not announced.

He laid a good length of time, taking in his first conscious thoughts, being keenly aware that he had no idea even what month it was. He marveled at the fluttering of the curtains, the sounds of the sea. The world was very much alive, and he was still in it.

His head turned sharply when he heard the chatter of women in the hall outside. "I'll stop to swab his mouth, and then I'll join you in the garden for lemonade." The voice was distinct, he knew it well, he smiled to himself. Surely she would not be there unless the others were with her.

Madame Giry made her way into the room, a small bowl of cold water in her hand. She was humming to herself. Erik blinked as he realized she was in a summer dress, short sleeves, a springy pale yellow. She moved to the table next to his bed, wringing the towel over the bowl she dipped one end into the water and turned to Erik. His wide eyes greeted her, a faint smile on his face. She lurched backward bumping the table knocking its contents to the floor. She gasped, putting one hand over her mouth.

Erik heard a shuffle in the hall. "Are you alright?" A faint voice called pushing open the door. There she was. His Christine, dressed in a pale peach dress he'd not seen before. She looked down at the broken bowl on the floor, water splattered around soaking the hem of Madame Giry's dress.

"What happened? Did it slip out of your…" Christine's eyes traveled quickly from Madame Giry to Erik, her breath catching as she let her eyes travel from his mid section, terrified to look, fearing what she might see. He'd hung so close to death, for so long, she shuddered as she looked up at his face.

Her eyes met his, wide blue-green pools drawing her to him. She rushed to his side, weeping before she ever reached it. She wanted to throw herself into his arms but could not for fear of harming him, so she laid her head gently on his chest stroking his face. "Erik….my dear sweet Erik…you've come back to us…."

Erik could feel the tears welling in his eyes as they brimmed and spilled over running down his cheeks. He slowly brought his hand up to rest it on Christine's head as she lay sobbing on his chest. Madame Giry stood to one side, crying discretely as she watched her friend and her "daughter" rejoice in their reunion. She came along side, kissing Christine on the cheek, and Erik on the forehead. "I'll fetch the doctor now that he's awake….you two have much to catch up on." She smiled at Christine nodding as if to encourage her, and then left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Christine lifted her head, raising her hands to Erik's face, pushing his hair back from his forehead. "My dear sweet husband….we thought we'd lost you forever….." Erik tried to speak but his mouth was so dry that nothing came out though he went through the motions. Christine smiled at him. "Now that you are awake, we can let you drink something instead of dipping this rag for you."

She put her hand behind his head lifting it slightly, putting her glass of lemonade to his lips. The stinging tartness made his saliva glands ache as they came to life, he winced. Christine smiled saying "perhaps this is too strong to start out with, let me fetch you a glass of…" Christine rose to leave the room, but Erik reached out and grabbed her hand. She turned around, the pleasure of his touch had not been forgotten. It had been a bittersweet memory until now. She returned to his side, pressing a gentle kiss on his lips.

"Chri..st..ine…" the low guttural tone of Erik's voice startled even him. She smiled, kissing both cheeks, resting her hand on his forehead. "You feel so cool now, I am glad….you were so sick Erik…so very sick." Her voice filled with concern, and yet relief. "Chri…stine, what happened….are you alright…Meg…Nadir..where is…" Christine raised her fingers to Erik's lips to hush him.

"All in good time my sweet Erik….all in good time. I will tell you briefly what happened, but more detail will be talked about when you are feeling better. Nadir is safe. He has struggled to forgive himself for firing his gun without proper position. Joseph is dead. He was a lecherous thief –in fact it was he that the man in the woods had been following The man you watched will walk again, although with a hobble as Claire shot his leg clean through and it is now a fare inch shorter than his other."

Erik's head was throbbing already…some of the memories of that morning starting to flood back in, broken bits of events tying up loose ends. "Meg, Madame Giry, and I have stayed with you as we had planned. Meg is now in Paris visiting friends…in part to help delay their return." Erik looked up at Christine, and then at the fluttering curtains, "it is warmer outside….what month is…how long have I…." Christine smoothed her hand on his cheek, pulling the white sheet up just under his chest before answering.

"It is the latter part of April." Erik flinched as the information registered. "I've been sleeping for two months!" Erik took in a heavy breath, a feeling of weakness, incompetence, vulnerability, seizing him. He attempted to raise himself from the bed, but Christine quickly, gently, pressed him back down. "You have been healing well, probably much better because you were not awake trying to overexert yourself as you do now!" she said half chastising him as he lay back down. "You need to rest, to regain your strength….there will be much time to get things in order. For now you need to concentrate on getting better yourself before…" Christine stopped abruptly, a wide smile crossing her face.

Erik looked up at her curiously "before what?" Christine took his hand in hers, lovingly coming up to kiss him tenderly on the lips. She guided his other hand down her chest to her abdomen, pressing his palm against it. Erik blinked rapidly, looking up at Christine, whose tear filled eyes and wide smile confirmed what his mind raced to take in. Erik looked pleading into her eyes as she nodded her head up and down, tears running down her cheeks and dropping to his chest. Next to the moment that Christine had become his in marriage, his heart had never swelled as much as it did now…it was overflowing with enough love and joy for a hundred men.

He grasped Christine's hand, ignoring the pain that jabbed sharply in his shoulder and pulled her down into an embrace. He kissed her forehead, each cheek, her lips, her chin, any skin that got within an inch of him was caressed by his lips. She sat down next to him, holding both of his hands.

"Erik, I am so excited, I know that it is early on now, but thankfully the nausea and fainting spells have passed. I am feeling quite well…even more so now that you are awake to share this with me. Other than Madame Giry and the doctor who has been treating you, no others know….I wanted you to know first!" She smiled and continued. "The morning the physician confirmed it, I came in and whispered in your ear, not knowing if you heard me." Erik smiled back at her, some of his hazy dreams starting to make sense now. He'd had so many, they all seemed to blend together, smearing themselves into one large surreal blur. He'd heard Christine's voice, images of playing with children on the beach…..

"Christine, my dear Christine….." he raised her hand to his lips kissing it tenderly. "Oh how I long to hold you in my arms!" Christine smiled at him "all in good time….we have to get you on your feet first my dear…Nadir has an excellent physician who has been looking after you. He'd stayed with us the first three weeks until he felt you were out of the woods. Now he visits twice a week, in fact he is due this very afternoon. He's been quite busy here now with two patients!"

Christine smiled at Erik. "Hmmmm, let me see….." she looked down at the bed, and then walked around to the other side. "I'm not sure but let me see…" she carefully tugged off the white sheet that was covering Erick. She pushed down on the bed next to where Erik lay and seeing no pain in his face, she gently turned him over to his back, using his shoulders to guide him. She climbed on the bed slowly coming to rest next to him. Slipping her head under his arm, laying it on her shoulder, she gently put her head on the far right hand side of his chest, being careful to put as little pressure on him as possible.

Erik's eyes welled, tears spilling over as he tightened his arm around Christine's shoulder. He could feel Christine's wet tears on his chest as he pulled her close to him, turning his head to press a kiss on her forehead. His left side hurt, and he could tell his muscles had lost some of their tone from lack of use, but he didn't care…SHE was in his arms.

Christine rose up slightly kissing him on the lips before she slipped out from beneath his arm, and came to rest next to him so their eyes could meet. She lay on her side winding her arms around his right arm, turning his palm just slightly so he could rest his hand on her stomach. He smiled at her as she propped herself up slightly so that he didn't have to strain to look at her. He moved his hand around gently on her stomach, sending a shudder up her back…even now…after all of this….his touch still moved her.

"Erik….I love you….this blessing that I now carry will bring us much joy…it is the hope for our future….the blending of our pasts….the melding of our souls…." Erik smiled at her, a curious smile. "Does this sound familiar to you?" Christine said playfully. Erik smiled again "yes, I am wondering…" Christine smiled at him, reaching over pushing his dark locks away from his forehead, "I had little else to do while I sat next to your side so many nights. I'd found this large stack of bundled music in your trunk as I searched for things for you. I've read them all, some many times over…they are so beautiful Erik…so very beautiful….Nadir has a lovely piano that he had brought here to your…our home and he's teaching me how to play!"

Erik could hardly believe what he was hearing. All without his supervision this group of people had blended, and from the sounds of things, bonded. Yes, things weren't always in his control…. "I read to you every night. Sometimes you'd struggle, depending on what I read, sometimes you'd lay silently still. When I'd play music for you on the violin, it seemed to calm you the most, and I dare say it did the same for me."

Christine smiled at Erik, moving her fingers over his hair, caressing his brow, tracing the length of his jaw. The fluid motion of her hand was like liquid honey to him, sweet and intoxicating. In those moments as she lay next to him talking about his music, he running his hand gently over her stomach, the husband and wife were reunited, a family was forged anew.

There was a light rap at the door before Madame Giry opened it. She came in closing it behind her, smiling at the both of them. "I had figured I would find you there!" she said to Christine.

"And just how are we feeling now Erik?" she said focusing on him. Erik turned his head slightly to look at his friend "I feel like I am on a cloud, sweet dew nourishing my inner most being." Madame Giry smiled at Erik and glanced to Christine who nodded at her. "I see that you've received the news of your great blessing!" Erik smiled at her, gently smoothing his hand on Christine's stomach again. "If this is a dream, I shan't wish to wake from it!" Erik said, making the others who'd watched over him day and night laugh with delight.

The voices filling that room were so different from those that had over the past two months. Days filled with bathing, battling, encouraging. Nights filled with prayers, singing, reading. Yet all of those combined, while done in love, stood lacking the joy that this special time now owned.


	62. Hands of unrevealed healing

Chapter 62 Hands of unrevealed healing 

The doctor left the room, closing the door behind him. Christine and Madame Giry had waited, rather impatiently in the corridor outside, at Erik's request. As he walked toward them, the physician put his finger up to his lips and then pointed out into the sitting room. "I'll be needing to take a look at you Christine, just a few moments really and then I'll be on my way." Madame Giry and Christine followed him out into the sitting room, and down the stairs to the main floor. Hearing the doctor's words to Christine, Erik rested his eyes. The doctor had not had loose lips as Erik expected he might.

Erick felt a bit restless. He breathed a bit easier now from the mist that the doctor had insisted he inhale. It had given him a brief fit of coughing, though painful, had been good to open up his lungs. His recovery would be excruciatingly slower than Erik wanted, but he knew it was more important now that he heal well, than fast, for he wanted to be nothing less than perfect when his new child was brought into this world. The mere thought of it made him smile with such immensity that he felt as though his cheeks were going to buckle. He ran his hand across the fresh white bandage that the doctor had put around his mid-section. He'd forgotten to ask the doctor about his mask, and the texture of his skin felt somehow different, no doubt from the constant exposure to the air. Either way, the doctor never paid any more attention to his face than he did any other part of his body.

Erik wondered at the exercises that the doctor recommended to rebuild his strength. He felt it a burden that Christine would have to help him with some until he was strong enough to do those on his own. He felt reassured, and smiled again, as the doctor told him that Christine was progressing as planned, having been a good little patient, resting and eating as he had instructed her to. The room was quiet again, Erik's eyes grew heavy. His body longing sorely to sleep, his mind fighting it…afraid that he wouldn't wake…the turmoil was too much for him. He simply closed his eyes and let nature take its course.

XXXXX

The doctor, Christine, and Madame Giry sat down on the chairs on the porch at the front of the house. The maid dutifully brought out a fresh tray of lemonade and shortbreads, putting it on the small table before departing.

The doctor began "Nadir is correct in saying that he is a stubborn man," he smiled taking a sip from his glass. "He demanded to know everything all at once. The entry wound, the exit wound, what organs had been affected, if there was to be permanent damage, if any use of limbs would be limited…." He chuckled a bit, turning to smile at Christine. "He wanted to make sure that he would be able to carry you in his arms again, and give piggy-back rides to his children!"

Christine smiled "dear sweet Erik." Madame Giry reached out and patted her hand. "I told him what I knew, that his recovery should be full, but that he would have to slowly work up his strength, letting his muscles work back into things, that he shouldn't force them. His diet will remain bland until I'm certain that his intestines have healed completely. He agreed to the exercises, although I think you'll have to remind him that you are to help him with those at first."

He took another sip of his lemonade, resting back in his chair, looking down at his bag. "He never asked about the mask Christine. I'm surprised he hasn't noticed anything, but being immobile he hasn't glanced into a mirror, so it will likely only be if he runs his hand over it that he may begin to wonder. These things are difficult for the mind, and I don't know quite how he will handle this, as we never had a chance to discuss it with him first."

Christine's lip quivered slightly as she thought about the decision that they had made those two months ago. "I'll try to keep it from him as long as I can, but I won't lie to him if he should ask." Christine shook her head in agreement.

Christine bit her lip, worriedly she asked, "Now that he's awake…..how do we….can we still…." Christine stopped. "That will be up to Erik now….it his life that we alter, and he should be part of that decision now that he can be." The doctor stood, tipping the last of his glass, resting it back on the silver platter.

"And you young Madame, how are you feeling?" he smiled at Christine. "Quite well…exceptionally well today as a matter of fact!" she smiled back at him. "Now do be careful to see that you do not overdo yourself. You are healthy, everything looks to be proceeding wonderfully….let us keep it that way." Christine smiled nodding her head in agreement.

The doctor put on his hat and retrieved his bag. "I shall be back to see the two of you on Saturday, until then, keep in good care." The doctor walked down the porch to the waiting carriage, turning to tip his hat as he climbed into it and departed.

Christine and Madame Giry sat a minute before speaking. "Do you think he will be upset with us?" Christine said staring out into the barely blooming meadow.

"Erik is a strong man, a man of pride. It is difficult to know what he may think of this," she said looking over at Christine. She replied, "but it was in part necessary, and in part an act of kindness. Only a very skilled physician would have been able to lend such aid. Without it, it is hard to know how or if Erik would have healed." Christine said trying to comfort both herself and Madame Giry. She replied, "until he asks about it, we won't speak of it. We shall continue to help him convalesce before we even think about it. At some point he will be able to dress himself and get around on his own. Whatever we do, we must not let it be a surprise, that, I'm afraid would do the most harm." Madame Giry reached out and took Christine by the hand. "Come, we should go back in lest he becomes suspicious about our absence."


	63. Faces

Chapter 63 Faces 

Erik stirred, the amber and orange hues of the setting sun spilled into the room, painting the walls with glinting gold as the rays danced on the finely polished wooden walls surrounding his bed. The curtains still fluttering lightly as the warm breezes pushed them about at will. In the glow of the failing light, they looked strangely like golden tipped wings of angels swishing to and fro as they floated over him.

He inhaled and exhaled, much more freely than he had that morning, the medicine of the physician had begun to heal his lungs. Moving his arms out to his sides attempting to stretch, his left hand brushed against a soft mass. He quickly withdrew it as he turned his head to his side, making him slightly dizzy at first. Focusing his eyes he saw what he had touched. There at his side, sleeping peacefully was Christine. A stack of parchment lay in her lap, several sheets on the floor. She looked so relaxed, one hand resting on the bed next to him, the other covering her abdomen protectively.

Erik mused as he thought of what a fine mother she would no doubt be to their child. Her youth would make chasing a child about much less a chore…his maturity offering much in the way of strength and ability to educate. He'd fashioned Christine in a small way, but she was still very much her own person, having years of exposure to many other things. But this…this new life that was growing inside of her….he would have the potential to shape it from its very beginning…to nourish it…to love it…to watch it thrive and grow…. Erik's heart began to swell again. This was a new love…a different love than what he felt for Christine…it was one that he could share in with her…although she would not be the object of it…they would share it just as they now shared each breath.

It was strangely pleasing to him, the knowledge that Christine held within her being the evidence, the product of their love. She carried it with her wherever she went….he smiled, reaching out placing his hand over hers, as he gazed on her resting form. Her cheeks were rosy and ever-so-slightly fuller than they had been. Her lips seemed to be smiling though she slept. She'd not lost any of her gracefulness in the relaxed comfort of her new surroundings, for she appeared as sumptuous as he remembered from the last time they embraced as husband and wife.

He'd have so many more questions to ask the physician. While he'd read many books on medical studies, he'd not read much on the time when a woman is "with child". For he would surely want to relish this marvel of life, and be as dutifully doting as a loving husband could be.

Christine drew in a sharp breath, mumbling something, and her eyes opened widely. She turned to look at Erik, a relieved expression overtaking her face as his eyes met hers. She yawned, briefly withdrawing her hand from her stomach to cover her mouth. Subconsciously, her hand had stayed at Erik's side…he would always come first…always. "You are awake!" she said, straightening herself in the chair, squeezing his hand in hers. "And so are you!" he said smiling back at her.

She looked down at the papers that had fallen to the floor, and quickly back up at Erik, thinking he would be displeased to see his work so careless strewn about, but his eyes never left her face. He stared at her with such depth, it was as though he was bypassing her mind, conversing directly with her soul. "I've missed you…" he said, smiling at her.

Christine felt a tear escape her lower lid, running down the side of her cheek. "I never left your side." She smiled turning to face him, the last pages of parchment slipping down her dress and onto the floor to join the others.

"I've missed your touch, your voice…my husband…" Christine rose above Erik, pressing her lips tenderly against his. "Christine, I've so much to learn, so much to ask…our roles will be reversed for a brief time…" Christine sat next to him on the edge of his bed, stroking his forehead.

"We have as much time as you need Erik," she said sighing peacefully as she began wringing out a cool cloth in the basin on the table. She didn't care how long it took, for now he was awake, conversing, responding. She lifted the cloth to his face, smoothing it over his jaw, his left cheek, and then down over his right, on down his neck and chest.

The sensation made Erik shiver. Christine smiled at him "does that feel good?" she asked. She'd done it hundreds of times over the last two months, in part to comfort him, and in part to break the terrible fever that raged threatening to do him in. But he had been asleep during those times, and now he was very much aware of her touch.

Erik was unaccustomed to this kindness, but savored it none-the-less. She turned and dipped the cloth in the water again, wringing it, taking hold of Erik's left arm, slowly running it down the length of it from shoulder to fingertip. The cool tingle intensified by the warm breeze that wafted from beneath the flowing curtains. This was a rare sensory treat indeed, something he'd not experienced in his lifetime. They sat in silence, as Christine continued giving him his bath, covering ever inch of him. Exchanging glances a smattering of love, embarrassment, acceptance, resignation, and thankfulness.

Christine had been humming one of the songs that Erik had written so many years ago while he was still beneath the Opera House. It was of particular tenderness for him as it had been the one he had composed the very night he realized that his love for Christine was no longer platonic…it was a romantic awakening for him, and it both confused and terrified him then. Christine finished his bath, pulling a clean white sheet from the stack on the dresser, she gently laid it over Erik.

He could not bear to thank her, humility was a new beast to him, he'd have to wrestle with it before he could make such a forthcoming acknowledgement of his vulnerability. "Christine…that song…." She turned to look at him as she wrapped the discarded sheet and towel into a bundle for the maid. "Yes, this one is my favorite…it has such innocent passion…such blooming love…it kept me company the many days, and nights that I longed for your gaze."

He glanced away. They had been his most intimate thoughts. And though they were inspired by Christine, it was unsettling to him that she had discovered them…embraced them. "And have you learned to sing it my dear?" Christine turned back, sitting down on the bed again. "I've read the words silently in my mind…hummed the music….but could not bear to sing it out loud without the instruction of my angel!" Christine smiled at him. "I intruded on your most private thoughts, your music…without your knowledge…I could not take that liberty without your permission."

Erik squeezed her hand. She was his wife, but still respected his position as her teacher. That both comforted and saddened him, and he was not at all certain why. "We will have to see to that, perhaps tomorrow we could…." Christine interrupted him. "My dear, dear, Erik. We must take this slowly. I fear that your mind has recovered more rapidly than your body." She patted his chest carefully. "Tomorrow we will begin with letting you sit up for awhile. I'm sure you'd like to get a good look at the sea you can no doubt hear."

Erik scowled, this would indeed be difficult. Sit up and look? He wanted to feel the sand in his toes, the surf on his feet, Christine's hand in his as he walked with her, explaining why he had selected this place, showing her the deciduous trees, the natural flora, the delicate balance of the eco-system. His eyes darted back as he watched Christine standing, gathering up the bowl and walking toward the door. "Where are you going?

Christine turned back to look at him. She smiled "I won't be gone long my dear. I'm going to see about having a cot brought in for me so we can talk until we fall off to sleep." "But my dear, there is plenty of room for you here" Erik said patting the right side of the bed that was quite barren. Christine lowered her head laughing "I'd like nothing better my sweet, but I'm quite afraid I thrash about in my sleep now…I get quite warm, and it would do little good for either of us if I kept you up all night!"

Erik exhaled, expressing his disappointment "very well, but do not be long, I've much to ask you." Christine left the room, closing the door behind her. The light was now disappearing to barely a deep silvery-violet sliver. An eerie cast of shadows from the curtains now dancing on the wall.

Erik's hand traveled up to his face again. He'd have to ask her about his mask. His skin felt so strange to him. Surely air would not change the texture that much. He smoothed his hand, tracing the hairline, the lump that lay just above his ear was nearly undetectable. The rough pull under his eye felt different, just how he couldn't explain. He ran his hand over to his left eye, perceiving the similarities that the lower lids now shared. He shuddered. No doubt his mind was playing tricks on him.

He startled as the door pushed open, a bed protruded from the opening, Erik strained to see who was pushing it, ready to scold Christine if it was she. A frightened shriek rose from Erik's lips as the form came into view. "Good evening to you Erik! Hope you've slept well. Won't be too much longer and I can bake those cookies you like." The woman smiled as she pushed the bed beneath the window next to Erik's. She left the room to retrieve linens, smiling at him, closing the door behind her.

"Sara?" his mind was reeling. She'd said his name, he was sure of it…yes…he had much to ask Christine when she returned.


	64. Irritations

Chapter 64 Irritations 

Erik waited impatiently for Christine to return. To pass the time he began testing each limb. He lowered and raised each leg, the left not as high as his right, and with considerable discomfort to his mid-section. That was to be expected he rationalized. His arms looked a bit smaller than what he remembered, but would quickly regain their shape when he could chop wood. His mid-section was bundled tightly so it was difficult to assess, but he could only assume the muscles would be flaccid, and in need of much work. He pumped his hands, tightening and releasing his fists. His wrists seemed as strong as ever. At least something seemed no worse for lack of use.

He tried to turn himself over on his side, but the pain in his abdomen made him immediately think better of it. He sighed, Christine's return was taking much longer than he preferred, and he felt himself becoming annoyed. Then he laughed at his own folly. Her absence of a few minutes frustrated him, when she herself had waited patiently, lovingly for two months for him to wake! He sighed again. Patience was an acquired grace, and he would learn the lesson well.

Erik's hand wandered back to his face. In a few hours time it had become a fascination for him, much like a bug-bite, or some other annoyance that drew one's attention. The lower lid seemed so strange to him. Normally it gaped, but tonight it felt smooth and flush with his eye. His hand wandered over to his ear. His finger traced from the lobe up to the rounded curve of the top. He began to tense, his respiration increasing as he realized he could make out the form of an entire ear…one not fused in its entirety to his head! Erik pulled his hand away.

He'd broken out into a cold sweat. His mind had been fevered, perhaps he was imagining things that were not so. He never really felt about his face before, he had looked upon it with such revulsion that even he recoiled at the thought of touching it. Perhaps it only felt different than it truly appeared. He shook his head, calming himself by breathing slowly in and out, until his heart rate began to drop. "She must have gone to Persia itself!" he said out loud, half shouting, relieved that his tone and volume were returning to him.

The door opened "who has gone to Persia?" the woman said carrying in the fresh linens. Erik snapped his mouth shut, studying the face of the woman as she moved to the small bed next to his, busying herself making it up. She glanced over at him. "Is this too much air?" she asked, nodding toward the windows. "I can close them if you like, you look sort of clammy." She finished tucking in the last of the sheets, giving the pillows a good fluff before placing them on top of the bed.

"No, they are fine, thank you." Erik said, still studying her face. She grunted slightly, bringing herself to an erect position. "Don't remember me do you?" She said with a little laugh in her voice. Erik, embarrassed that she had caught him studying her retorted, "why of course I do, you are the innkeeper that took such care of my nieces and my…." She interrupted him. "No need to call them your nieces sir, I know of their relation to you. And, that's not what I meant by remembering me."

Erik's face twisted now in puzzlement. "Here, I'll come closer, perhaps time has been cruel to my face, or perhaps you can't recall anymore." Sara moved over to the side of his bed, leaning over into the full light of the candles she'd lit for him. Erik studied her face. He couldn't place it, but perhaps it was more the issue of her knowing his identity that clouded his ability to think clearly. She smiled at him. "That seems like a lifetime ago now." Erik's face went blank, for he was at a loss. He couldn't remember her, yet something in her demeanor felt familiar.

She started to laugh. "Ah, I've got something that might assist your memory!" she turned and departed. Erik put up a hand as if to indicate it was unnecessary, but she was gone.

"Damnation….why doesn't she just tell me!" "Why doesn't who just tell you?" A voice said coming down the hall. He could feel his irritation rising. Had his room been nothing but a favorite retreat for everyone in the household while he'd been unconscious? Madame Giry appeared, carrying in a tub of salve and a few small instruments.

"I demand to know what is going on…this infernal mystery is driving me quite mad!" Erik snorted at her. "I can see we are recovering quite nicely!" she smiled at him, moving over to the side of the bed. "I'd not want you to regress Erik, but I rather preferred the docile man that we tended to last evening!"

Erik huffed lowering his shoulders to the pillow. "I am quite awake now, and quite aware that I've missed altogether too much in my own house!" Madame Giry laughed. Erik closed his mouth looking at her quizzically. He didn't recall ever really hearing her laugh…a polite laugh when he attempted to be humorous yes, but this was a genuine laugh. He could feel the corners of his mouth flicker just a bit. "What amuses you so woman?" She covered her mouth, attempting to stifle the laughter, but it was of no use.

She said in between each broken breath "it took you only a day to regain your gentile demeanor…..I think the doctor….I think he will be quite amazed at your progress now…." She broke off.

"What in earth is all this cackling about?" In strode Nadir. "Erik is just expressing his appreciation for our all having made ourselves quite at home here." Nadir smirked and started to chuckle himself. "I see, and you do not enjoy all this company my dear Erik?" Erik felt his head swimming. He'd been conscious not twelve hours and he was already longing for the solitude of his coma. "Nadir…where did you…what has….how do you know.." Erik gave up.

The pair had started to laugh hysterically. Nadir pulling Madame Giry into a friendly hug, she patted him on his back as he did. "It is so good to see you again," she said closing her eyes. Erik blinked several times. He felt very much lost in the moment as though he was a mouse who'd happened into someone else's house like uninvited company. He sighed heavily exhaling, a suitably disgusted look on his face.

"He's been a bit temperamental I understand. I spoke with the physician this evening before coming." Nadir was talking to Madame Giry as though Erik weren't even in the room. Erik raised his hand from the bed, slamming it back against the covers, turning his head indicating his disapproval. That seemed to make Madame Giry and Nadir laugh all the more.

"What is going on in here?" Christine reappeared around the corner. She was dressed in her bedclothes, a silken robe wrapped loosely over them. Erik's eyes lit up as she came in, hoping at last to have an ally. Much to his chagrin she went to Nadir, embracing him warmly as one would an old friend, then turned to touch Madame Giry's hand before coming to his side. She looked down at him, reaching out and grabbing his hand.

"He is quite alert now, and you can tell he is ready to be rid of this bed and move on to other more industrious pursuits." Christine said in a mocking manner. They all began to laugh. Erik was finding no humor in any of their words, and was just ready to tell them of it when Sara came back in.

"Here, this ought to help you." From inside the silk bag she produced a paper Mache music box. Fixed atop was a monkey with symbols in his hands. The group went silent as she cranked at the bottom, winding the key. She released it, and it began to play. The room that had been filled with laughter was now deathly quiet, the music reverberating in the silence.

Erik felt his emotions rising in his throat, constricting it so that even air refused to move through it. In one swift motion with his hand he bellowed "OUT, OUT, leave me alone…I wish to be alone!" He huffed as if he'd moved a large boulder, or ran a great distance. The veins in his neck were bulging, his eyes filled with a fiery countenance. Sara reached out to retrieve the music box but Erik would not release it.

The cluster looked at one another, a bit of fear that they'd pushed the reunion too far, as they quietly collected their things to leave. Sara was first, followed by Madame Giry. Nadir tarried a moment, glancing over at Erik who was still puffing, looking up at the ceiling. "Do not worry my friend…all is well," he said turning to follow the others.

Christine let go of Erik's hand, turning to leave, but he reached out and grabbed it. "Not you! You must stay!" Erik stared at her as she fearfully turned to look at him. His temper had boiled over, overwhelmed by the vast gorge he felt as though he was perched upon. They all knew so much…so much more than he did, and he was not letting her out of his sight until she had informed him of every detail. He huffed heavily a few more times, swallowing, as he began to relax. "Please stay," he said to Christine.

The worry in her brow dissolving as she gazed on his face once more. His eyes pleading with her to help him. Let him understand what had happened, bring him up to the present so that he did not feel the void. He needed to recover those two months, desperately needed to recover them if he was to ever feel in control of his life again.

She sat down on the bed, running her hand over his forehead, and along his right cheek. He reached up, firmly holding her hand in place over it. She hesitated, looking nervously at him. "We need to talk about this…and so many other things." He looked up at her, glancing back towards the door. She settled herself in on the side of his bed, taking his hands into hers, placing one on her stomach, for that seemed to calm him. The other she held in her hands, caressing it softly.

"My dear husband, I shall try to answer all of your questions. Let us proceed slowly. Stop me if you have need to, but try to understand that this will be long and perhaps difficult, as there is much to tell. We may not finish in one night."

Erick's breathing had slowed now, and he reluctantly nodded. "Let me see, where to begin…." Erik interrupted her "let us start with the smoking gun I saw in your hands…that would be a good place to start." Christine looked at him in horror, her first realization of what he'd seen last rising in her mind.

Erik sensed her tension, and began to rub his hand lightly on her stomach. His touch reminded her that he loved her, that he cared for her, that he needed her. She put one hand over his, and took in a deep breath. "Very well." She leaned down to kiss him, a brief flicker of passion lingered between them as their lips joined, tarried, and at last parted. "I'll start from the beginning."

Author's notes:

**Captain Oblivious**: No shaking wooden spoons please…it sounded like you were going to put a hex on me! O.k. sorry, I saw Bewitched this last weekend, I know, I know, a rather shallow movie for someone who loves "true" literature, but I had to take a break into something a bit more lighthearted…Anyway back to the story…I did not hurt Erik, it was Joseph, and no, he wasn't a Bouquet, but that would have been a good link though! He, unfortunately, has a much more nefarious purpose….yikes…almost gave a spoiler!

Well, if you hate gardening, we will just have to find something else for you to do…perhaps physical therapy for Erik…oh wait…they didn't have that then…and I'm quite afraid Christine would chase you out of the house with a broom….there I go again… Hope you enjoy this four-chapter installment. I hate doing so many chapters at one time, but I just couldn't feel good about leaving the story hanging…too much…

**CrayAnn**: Should I call 911….find a defibrillator? I've a knack for knocking off story characters, but I'd just as soon preserve the life of my readers! Sorry about the cliffee, it was necessary though. I've included four chapters today so that you can have an easier weekend…I'd not want to be responsible for any implosions!


	65. Visions

Chapter 65 Visions 

Christine was nervous. Erik was both expectedly eager, and firmly demanding, nothing would outmaneuver his inquiring mind, she would try to select her words carefully.

She steadied herself, breathing in she began "that morning, when you were standing outside of the carriage, we watched as the man approached you from around the side of the house. We were scared, but thinking that the officers would protect you should he draw a weapon. When he started screaming his accusations, we became terrified that we'd been found…that it was over." Christine paused "it was then that I retrieved the gun from under my skirt."

Erik looked at Christine "where did you, no, how did you get it? I had it stowed safely inside my jacket?" Christine smiled, rubbing his hand "do you remember my giving you one last embrace, running my arms about your waist before we left our room?" Erik smiled back at her "ahh, I see…go on."

Christine continued, "I drew the weapon to the window, believing I'd at least have one clear shot at the man if he moved toward you. It was then that I noticed Joseph pulling a knife from his belt, pressing it into your side. I decided then and there, that he was the present danger, and without much training I'd have a better chance of marking him, than the other man."

Erik smiled at her "without training, as you say so carefully explained, how could you be sure it was not me that you would shoot?" Christine gave Erik an annoyed look, obviously he had calmed himself enough now to toy with her.

"When I realized that Joseph had intended to use you as a shield…I….it just happened. The noise inside the carriage made our ears ring. I watched as the bullet shattered his clothing, his blood splattered everywhere." Christine looked down, feeling as though she would vomit. She had never taken the life of another breathing creature, and the very retelling of it sickened her.

"It was instinct…to protect what I loved." A single tear now running down her cheek. "It wasn't until I peered out the window that I realized you had fallen also." Christine fought back her urge to break down and sob. "It wouldn't be until much later, as the doctor was tending to your injuries, that the entire story unfolded. I had shot Joseph, Claire had shot the man from the woods, and…." Christine paused looking deep into Erik's eyes, "Nadir shot you." Erik's hand went limp. He was quiet for a moment. Erik sighed, responding reflectively, "that is why you said he had to forgive himself."

Christine was relieved that there was no trace of hostility in his voice. "He had meant to shoot Joseph, but he had pulled you in front of him in the last seconds. Your left side took the brunt of the bullet. It pierced your intestines, your…well, the doctor no doubt gave you those details." Erik was still rubbing her stomach, his brow was not furrowed, she would go on.

"Three of you hit the ground at nearly the same moment. Joseph, did not suffer, he was dead as he hit the ground. I take some comfort in that." Christine's lip quivered…she'd have to live with the blood of that man on her hands forever.

"The man, I believe they called him Simon, lost a great deal of blood, and nearly lost his foot in the process. I dare say he suffered the most at first as he never lost consciousness, until the doctor administered some ether. He is recovering, but the shoemaker now is a regular stop of his as his legs are no longer even." Christine paused, "Claire never flinched, she did what she thought was right in her eyes, and would do it again tomorrow."

Erik laughed, in the few hours he'd known Claire, that sounded just as he would think she would say, especially being Nadir's sister. "When the physician examined you…" Christine let go of Erik's hand, standing up to turn her back to him, both hands drawn to her face. Erik heard a loud sob as Christine's shoulders began to shake. He was silent. He would be patient with her.

"He came out of the room, shirt bloodied, sweat running down his neck. He told me that he'd done all he could, but doubted that you would make it to sunrise the next day." Christine wiped her eyes, turning around to face Erik. "Nadir was inconsolable, nearly suicidal at one point. He knew it was an accident, but blamed himself anyway." Christine came to rest next to Erik on the bed.

"The next eight hours are a blur. I remember all of us standing around you, holding hands, praying…the doctor joined us…and he was a man of little faith!" Christine looked at Erik, the intensity of those memories burning in her eyes, "during those hours you were in the company of angels, teetering between this world and theirs."

Christine paused, breathing in slowly. "All we could do was pray that infection did not set in. Your innards had been splayed, so many things could have happened. After the eighth hour, you became restless. I sat by your side. It was I that first noticed the large stain of blood pushing its way through the bandages about your middle. The physician ordered me out of the room, a rush of helpers as he called them were brought in, and the door was barred so no others could enter. We sat waiting outside…." Christine grew pale, her gaze grew distant. She'd fought this memory every day he'd been sleeping.

"We heard screaming…hideous screaming…and then paralyzing silence. After another half-hour, the doors moved, the physician reappeared, this time taking me to one side." Christine looked down at Erik, a wave of fear washing over her. There was no way around this, she had to tell him. He'd already made it clear he wanted to talk about it.

"Erik, we had to make some decisions. I being your wife, they were left to me to make." Christine felt her lips quivering again, betraying her nervousness.

"What sort of decisions do you speak of?" Erik looked at her, swallowing, having the distinct feeling he did not really want to know the answer.

Christine said, "I am tired Erik…so terribly we continue this…"

"NO" came his abrupt answer. "This will not be any easier for me later, in fact it will only prolong my misery, as you obviously have something you fear to tell me. Do you not think that I would drive myself quite mad wondering?" Erik looked both terrified and angry, his heaving chest pulsing unevenly under his staggered breathing.

Christine closed her eyes, praying that he would forgive her, praying that he would understand why she had done it. "Go on, do tell me now," Erik encouraged her. She swallowed hard, rising to get a sip of water, wringing her hands, wiping them on her dress before returning to his side.

"Erik, there was a broken vessel, now I am no physician, but I understood the basic principals of what he explained. There was too much missing, you'd lost too much blood. If it were not repaired, you would have bled to death." She paused, looking away, and then back at him. "He'd….the physician…read of new techniques that were being employed in the Americas, experimental of course, but they had been showing much promise."

"Yes, yes, do go on, to what point does this lead?" Erik's annoyance obvious in his tone.

"Your mask had been discarded…" Christine began slowly. Erik's eyes growing wider with each sentence. "The physician noticed a large bulge just above your right ear. He'd seen this condition before in medical books." She couldn't look at him, how could he bare hearing her call his disfigurement a condition? "The condition results in extra growths of skin and vessels, so much so, that they often overtake the normal skin, covering it with a leathery, uneven surface." Christine paused again, still not being able to look at him.

Erik's mind working ahead of her words, his hand instinctively rising up to cover his right cheek. Christine closed her eyes. "He asked me if I wished to see my husband live to the next day…" she sobbed, "and I said yes, yes of course." What came next she could barely bring herself to say. Erik saw the distress in Christine's face, her body contorting as she wrestled with herself to find the words to tell him what they had done. "Erik, it was the only way to save your life." She was wiping the tears from her face, looking down at him.

His hand moving over the surface…it had not been his imagination. "What did he do Christine?"

She held his hand, reaching up she put her other hand over the one covering his face. "He removed a large portion of the growth, harvesting the vessels and some of the flesh to repair your wounds. He said he would know within hours if it had worked, if the bleeding stopped." Christine steeled herself for the question that she knew was coming next.

Erik sighed, feeling his side. "I assume that it was a success, and the doctor should be congratulated then." He glanced up at her, and she down at him. There was a brief moment of silence, and then it came. "May I see it?" Christine pressed her eyes shut, she had to tell him the rest. How could she tell him that he'd become an experiment for this surgeon? "Erik, it would be better if we waited until you were…" His responding stare gave her his answer, he was not going to wait if he had to rise and find the looking glass himself.

"Erik….you need to know more…." "What more Christine? The surgery saved my life. The surgery changed my appearance and I should like to know the results…what more is there to know?" She shuddered, this would not be easy. "The first surgery took hours, and yes, as you so cleverly pointed out, it did save your life. After several days, when you did not wake, we began to worry that you might not at all. With your treated wound healing well, the doctor turned his attention to the one he had created on your cheek."

Erik scowled, "what do you mean he turned his attention to it?" Christine hesitantly replied "it had started to grow a bit of infection, and the skin was very irritated for having been disturbed. He explained that this condition would only progress, covering even more of your flesh unless it was treated." She stopped, hoping he did not want to continue, but again she was wrong.

"Treated how so?" Christine sighed, there was no way out…she had to explain. "He began removing the tissue as it grew. Each day, he would remove any new growth, suturing up openings, trimming and the like." Erik scowled again, but did not interrupt her. "One day in particular, he had to remove much more than he wanted to, the part attached to your ear." She said motioning toward it. Erik's hand running along the newly sculpted curve. "In order to correct this, he had to continue to remove the flesh that followed down the length of your ear, behind it, and to the side."

It was starting to make sense to Erik. She took a deep breath and continued. "Over the course of the next five weeks, he tried to correct it, to keep the advancing skin from taking over, at one point sending off to Germany for special ointments and creams to help the new skin that was growing beneath the flesh that had been freed from the growth." Erik's hand ran over the parts that he thought he had felt were now smooth.

"And what of this, my eye, how is it that it no longer tugs?" Christine looked down to his stomach. "One part of your body helped another, and in the end it returned the favor." "Whatever do you mean?" Erik looked puzzled. "The doctor removed a part of skin from your abdomen, attaching it to the raw flesh of your cheek."

Erik blinked. He was curious. Yes, part of him was furious, while he had slept, they'd cut him up as a fowl on a serving platter, but at this moment he was mostly curious. He looked wide-eyed at Christine, expression blank. "It was a week or more before the skin seemed to attach, later parts absorbed into the flesh of your face, others had to be trimmed away." She exhaled, she told him the worst of it, the only thing left was to show him. She'd hoped they were weeks away from ever having to do this, but she was certain he would not rest until he could observe it himself. Erik was never one to move slowly once he had set his mind to something.

"Bring me a mirror Christine, I must have a look at this new sculpture." She winced. It was not completely healed. Marks from the stitches were still deep red, new hair was just beginning to grow in the scalp that had been released from the grips of the spreading flesh. He looked somewhat like an unfinished portrait, and she feared it would frighten him. "Christine, please…if you are able to tolerate looking upon me, I am certain that I shall be able to do the same." His voice was calm, his words steady but firm. If she did not do this for him, he would find a way when she slept, she was certain of that.

Christine stood, walked to the door and left the room. Erik could only hope that she would return with what he requested.

She was down the hall not half-way when she passed Madame Giry's room, the door slightly ajar. "Christine?" she heard her call as she came to the door. Madame Giry opened it, the question she wanted to ask was answered by the look on Christine's face. "He wants to see it doesn't he?" Christine nodded. Madame Giry moved to her vanity, retrieving her mirror, handing it to Christine. "It will be alright my dear, he is a strong man. As long as he knows you still love him, he will learn to accept it." Christine glanced back at her, smiling slightly and departed into the dark of the hall once more.

Erik waited patiently, his curious hand now running over ever detail of his face, comparing the dips, ridges, curves of each cheek. His head turned as Christine came back into the room, baring a large filigreed handle, attached to an oval mirror. She walked over to him, putting it on the side table. Before she would let him see it, she wanted him to know she loved him, just as much now, as she had before, the change in his face did not change her feelings for him, nothing would.

She reached out kissing his forehead, his chin, lips, neck, ear, and finally his right cheek. "Erik I love you. Not your flesh, but you my husband, the you that I see when I close my eyes. No physical change will alter that. You are my husband, father to the child that grows within me, and I shall always love you….do you understand?" Erik reached out and grasped her hand. "And I love you my sweet Christine. Do not delay, please let us put an end to this mystery."

Christine was still hesitant, but could delay no longer. She kissed his cheek one last time, and handed him the mirror. She did not want to watch, but could not pull herself away. She would face this with him.

Erik swallowed hard, holding the mirror on his chest, closing his eyes. He mustered his courage, slowing raising the mirror bit by bit. He saw first his chin. That looked the same. His lips, they were still his. Every bit he raised it he saw more normal looking flesh, dotted here and there with red dots from stitches. He kept raising it until it was at the height of his ear. He sighed. He had to know, and patience was for the weak. He flipped the mirror up the rest of the way and gazed upon the reflection. He reeled back, pushing his head further into his pillow, for there staring back at him….was a…..man. A 


	66. Oh how I Love Thee

Chapter 66 Oh how I love thee 

Erik jerked awake. He wasn't quite sure what time it was. The house was silent. He could hear the chirping of the crickets outside in the tall grasses, the lapping of the evening tide that was no doubt at its full height. The curtains were still gently swaying in the warm night breeze. All save one candle had gone out.

He felt tired, so very tired, but he relished this new process. He'd woken up…in a warm bed…comfortable breezes flowing over his body…a safe place….his wife at his side having abandoned the idea of sleeping in the cot that Sara had brought in for her. Her tender curls were strewn across his chest and on the pillow beside his head. He turned, breathing in the very essence of his Christine.

The last hours had been painful for them both. He didn't know what to make of this new knowledge…it made his head hurt to think of it. It frightened him, but not because it was hideous….but because it looked too…too… Erik shook his head, sighing. It would take time, and there were so many other questions that they'd not talked about before giving in to their exhaustion.

Erik raised his head just slightly to look down on Christine. She had her head carefully laid on his chest, one leg draped over his, on her left side she was nestled in next to him. Their intertwined hands covering her abdomen protectively. A smile easily causing the corners of his lips to rise as he appreciated this simple pleasure.

Surely every man rejoiced in the creation of life. To observe the love of a woman who is willing to bear your children, nurture you, to love you enough to give you this very special gift. But for him, it was much more than that. To feel this kind of love was nothing if not entirely overwhelming. To know that the woman in his arms gave herself willingly to him, to be loved by him and to love him, to carry their child, in spite of all of his flaws, was a miracle. She had reached into the very depths of hell itself and pulled him from the darkness that he thought would be his forever punishment for daring to be born. He did not deserve her…..

Erik began to gently rub his hand on her stomach…how he longed to embrace her…not out of lust, but out of the purest love for this creature…pure admiration….thankfulness. He put his head back on the pillow. He lay for a long while just listening to her breathing. He stared at her, the corners of her mouth turned up slightly as she, in her sleepy rambling, uttered a singular, heart-stirring word… "Erik…." He could handle it no longer…he had to try…if but to hold her for a brief moment.

He tested his left arm. He could move it in a full circle without much discomfort. He tugged gently at his right arm. Christine barely rested her head on it, and it moved easily. Now, the trick would be shifting his torso. He looked down, the bandage was tightly wrapped. The doctor had assured him that the stitches were healing well. Inch by inch he pulled at his muscles. Having to stop and start again a half-dozen times before he finally propped himself up on his right side. He'd broken a sweat, and felt a bit dizzy, but it was worth it.

He wrapped both of his arms around Christine, pulling her as close to his body as he could, tucking his hands in behind her waist, pulling her stomach against his. His breathing was labored. He could easily tell that his muscles had suffered much from lack of use. He stared at her; she was beautiful. How he wished he could pull her inside of him, envelope her with his very being. He lay a long time just searching each inch of her face, needing to know her more. He closed his eyes, his lips resting on her forehead.

It was then that he felt her stir. A small stretch, a tiny warm breath on his neck as she exhaled from her yawn. Then he felt what he longed for most…her arms wrapping around him, her lips on his chest, her cheek in the crook of his shoulder, and her warm breath on his flesh as she said his name…. "Erik, I love you…I really, really, love you…"

His hand traveled up her back, into her hair as she pulled her face away just enough to look up at him. "Erik..." He looked down putting his lips against hers. They both shuddered in unison as the kiss grew more passionate with each passing second. The longings of their need to be reunited as one growing until they parted their lips to gasp for breath. "Erik….I am sorry…it is not fair to torment you so…." Erik pulled her back into an embrace, running his hand around her shoulder, behind her neck, half cradling her in his arms. There was so little they could do to stifle the intensity of nature, the basic need of man and woman to be reconciled after separation.

Erik's body coursed with pain; he ignored it. Christine looked pleading at Erik, but he refused to open his eyes for fear she would try to talk him out of what their bodies were demanding. Erik was weak, his temples were now starting to throb as his body cried out under the strain he was putting on it. He had broken out into a cold sweat, it beaded and ran down every inch of him. Christine could feel his tension, his struggle. She managed to pull herself away from his kiss, just long enough to gasp "Erik …"

He did not want to give up, though his body was screaming…he was nearly spent. He felt defeated as he rolled onto to his back, breathing heavily. He would not release Christine….he wanted her to know she was wanted…that in time he could be her husband again…. Erik flinched. Christine did not try to pull away, but rather was inching herself onto his chest.

She smiled, looking deeply into his eyes as she came to rest next to him. "Christine I am sorry, I shouldn't have…" She put her fingers up to his lips to hush him. "Erik…I love you….you should not tire yourself so…you'd do well to rest…we have time my dear…plenty of time." She put her head on his chest. Erik reached up his weary arms, placing them around the small of Christine's back.

"Am I hurting you?" Christine asked, her voice muffled as she spoke into his chest. Erik took in a deep breath…feeling no discomfort, save the self-induced muscle fatigue from his exertions, responded "no." Christine lifted her head and smiled at Erik, "That is good…that is very good," she said smiling at him as she put her lips tenderly on his. "Christine, I am sorry…" "Shhh" came her response as her lips left his, carefully, softly, dotting kisses on his jaw and down his neck.

"Christine, I…." She pressed her lips lightly against his, breathing into the kiss "I love you too." A tear escaped the corner of his right eye, Christine reaching up to catch it with her lips. The fluttering of the curtains, the gentle sound of the waves outside, rushing to and fro on the shore…a beautiful night, their first together in each other's arms in months.

They laid a long while, talking about the child that grew within the nurturing depths of Christine's womb. Imagining what he or she would be like; if she would have Erik's temper, if he would have Christine's pout. They felt still very much like newlyweds, but yet had grown beyond that title in so many ways. A child now would change that, make things more complicated, but would add a joy that neither of them could ever have imagined…for it already was. They gazed into each other's eyes as they drifted off to sleep. One of Erik's arms around Christine, the other guarding her abdomen. In the last twelve hours, since he'd known of this blessing, Erik had already become the protective father that Christine knew that he would be.

**Author's Notes:**

**Crayann**: Thank you for your sincere compliment. I have wanted to write all of my life, but was never certain if I was quite good enough to do it. Yes, this is my first work that I've released to anyone. I do have three books that I am writing currently, one that I hope to have published next summer. Completely different type of fiction, but I am rather looking forward to it!

Now back to the story…yes, I must admit I laughed after I wrote it. It was supposed to be emotionally super-charged, but came out amusing instead. When I closed my eyes I could actually see those people darting in and out of the room, and Erik's irritation growing…. I hope you like the next chapters….some strange things are happening…..

**Waytoointoerik**: Sorry about contributing to your delinquency at work! I just wanted to get the chapters posted for the weekend. Saturday and Sundays are crazy for me, so I never get to post anything then. I was mentioning to Crayann that I intended for this scene to be super-serious, but it ended up being amusing. I was going to re-write it, but decided a little humor was about due for this family! Thanks for staying with the story!


	67. Paying Homage

Chapter 67 Paying Homage 

The city was bustling on this very busy mid-week morning. Paris was abuzz about the Opera House reopening by summer. Soon the refurbished dormitories would be brimming with ballerina's, the stables filled with horses and sheep, the marble halls finely polished, fresh paint, and glittering new chandeliers giving the Opera House even more opulence than it possessed in its former life. The auditorium now boasted nearly a hundred more seats, and several more boxes for the aristocrats. The still-wet coat of lacquer on the just-hewn oak floor of the stage gleamed as the morning sun danced across it from the new stained glassed windows high above.

The architectural integrity of the building had been preserved, and several finer embellishments had been added to further the grandeur of this principal pride of Paris. Mr. Andre, Mr. Firmin, Monsieur De Chagny, and the Vicomte had been busy, yes very busy indeed.

The rebuilding process had been aided greatly in many ways by raising of funds in social circles, and the unexpected find of the "original" blue prints for the Opera House itself which included the new refinements that they included in their plan. Had they known the true authenticity of the plans that they found, they would have snarled in disgust at the indignation of them. For they were not the originals of the first architects as they presumed, but rather Erik's incarnation of what HE believed to be the perfect acoustical and structural design of a building that would provide shelter to the greatest Operas the world would ever know. Both the drafter of the plans and those that fulfilled them would be surprised if they knew….both would be in awe and in anger…but the Opera House had a life of its own, and opulence and mystery were its calling cards…lest any man should boast.

Meg was dressed and ready for the day. It was both with happiness for the glorious morning, and melancholy of the task at hand that she greeted it. She had promised Christine that she would visit that place…after all it was the anniversary, and Christine had never missed one since she'd come to live in Paris.

She was sipping her morning tea in the parlor when she heard a knock at the door. The butler opened the door and greeted the person who Meg had been expecting. She rose, straightening her dress, placing the cup back in its saucer.

"Good morning Meg!" came the familiar voice. Meg smiled, reaching out her hand for the customary greeting. "Are you prepared for our visit this morning?" Meg nodded her head, "let me fetch my cloak" she replied. The maid appeared from behind the French doors, cloak in hand assisting Meg in securing it about her neck. "Shall we?" an extended arm, escorting her out of the parlor and to the carriage waiting outside. The morning breezes were particularly pleasant this fine spring morning, and Meg couldn't help but smile, even knowing what lay ahead of them. The footman closed the door to the carriage, it baring the crest of the family who owned it, the De Chagny family.

The carriage rattled through the streets of Paris, past all of the construction that was going on about the Opera House, the last parts of the outside being finished. The markets were open, and the busy innkeepers were seeing their guests off with warm cups of coffee, the merchants putting out their placards. Soon the cobblestone streets gave way to the compacted gravely roads of the countryside. The meadows were still low; new grass and flowers just beginning to fill in the vast fields; their fragrances filling the air with a sweet heady scent.

Meg glanced away from the window saying "thank you for bringing me Raoul, I know this must be difficult for you." Raoul replied "it is my pleasure to accompany you Meg" he paused looking out the window himself "he would have been my father-in-law had things turned out differently, it seems only respectful that I should be there too."

Meg looked down and over to Raoul, but he did not return her glance, he was staring out at the vast countryside. Meg had grown quite fond of Raoul during her numerous visits, and felt as though he was feeling the same. Comments such as this one left little doubt in her mind that he still pined for a woman he believed to be lost or dead. The real truth and her deception she feared, would be her undoing if he should ever find out. The agony of it was nearly unbearable for her. If he knew what she knew, he would never forgive her…never accept the truth…the reality of the truth….

Raoul pulled his eyes away from the countryside to look at Meg, reaching out to touch her hand comfortingly. He glanced down at the flowers that were in a small bucket on the floor of the carriage. "They were Christine's favorite" he said. "She talked about how her father used to pick them for her at the house by the sea…when we were children….he would fill the house with flowers for her to brighten her spirit. I, being the impish boy that I was then, thought it odd that a father would go to such trouble for his daughter….I simply did not understand the love…."

Raoul's stopped…he'd been down this torturous path too many times in his mind…it had to stop! It was a poisonous fester that taunted him daily…if he'd let it. He turned to Meg, clearing his throat, his gaze revealing the emotional shift his mind had just made. "After paying our respects Meg, would you be kind enough to accompany me for lunch at the Starboard?"

Meg smiled, sensing the change in his demeanor moving from the past to the present. "I would be most delighted to. Will your father and sister be there?" Meg inquired. "Why yes, I believe they will be. My sister has become quite obsessed with trying to find the perfect dress to wear to the gala. She's been shopping for over a month now, and has yet to find it! Perhaps after lunch you could go with her Meg, she would no doubt love the company. Her maids are rather tiring of it, I heard them say as much when I paid a visit yesterday."

Meg smiled. Raoul's sister was a pleasant woman, about six years older than Meg, but friendly and warm, rather unlike her father. It amazed Meg how she had such a gentle demeanor having grown up in a household with the two men. "I'd like that very much" Meg said.

The pair fell silent as the carriage turned onto the long road that led up to the cemetery. Meg had only been to the perimeter, never having followed Christine to her father's grave. She silently hoped that she would be able to find it without appearing too foolish. She knew it was a grand mausoleum, surrounded by large arc-angel sculptures, somewhere towards the back, but that was only from Christine's sketchy descriptions of it.

As the carriage began to wind through the narrow paths, Meg found herself wondering how the driver knew where to go without instruction. Raoul's eyes had grown somewhat glassy, an odd silence had overtaken them. Meg turned sharply when Raoul wrapped on the roof of the carriage, "stop here" he said in a loud firm voice. Meg cocked her head, and inquisitive look now on her face. Raoul looked over at her, then turned his face toward the floor of the carriage, he said "I suppose she never told you…she probably never told anyone." Meg was more confused than ever as the carriage door opened, the footman reaching in to assist her exit.

Meg stood looking up at the large marble structure, moss growing up its northern side, DAAE inscribed on its crown. The carriage pulled away a respectful distance. Raoul had retrieved the flowers from the bucket, the water from the stems now pattering softly on the ground, some on the surface of his boots as he joined Meg at the steps in front of the grave. Meg turned to look at Raoul. "It is a true friend who would do this for her" he said looking at her.

"How did you know.." Meg began, but Raoul replied knowing full well the question. "The last time Christine came to visit her father," Raoul paused, flashing back to that day, "she came for his guidance." Meg was looking at Raoul, no idea how he knew this. "Christine had woken in the dormitories in the middle of the night, having decided she needed her father's help to say good-bye to that monster."

Raoul looked at Meg, reaching out he touched her shoulder, and continued "she truly believed that he was an angel that her father sent to her…she couldn't bare to think of letting him go, but knowing full well she had to before we could marry." Raoul turned his head looking over to the stone where his blood had been spilled. He walked several steps away, looking up into the spring sky. "I followed her, the hansom told me where they had gone…Christine didn't even know who had driven the carriage, for if she had, she might have thought better of it."

Raoul looked back down again "by the time I reached her, he had already set his trap and was luring her into it." Anger now flashed in Raoul's eyes. "If only she'd let me finish him then…." His voice trailed off. Meg asked "finish him?" Raoul spun around, "yes, I had him on the ground, though I must say he put up a good struggle, his sword was on the ground and I nearly had him, but Christine begged me not to….." Raoul looked up at Meg, fully aware that this was the first she'd heard of it. "If I'd finished him that day, we wouldn't be standing here right now."

Meg looked down, she didn't know quite what to say…perhaps there was nothing to say. Meg walked over to him, reaching down and took the flowers from his hand. She walked over to the steps, glancing up she noticed a small urn near the entrance, the remains of wilted and decaying flowers brimming over the top. She walked up the steps and slowly removed the old, replacing it with the new bouquet. Lowering her head silently saying "please forgive me for this, please forgive me for all of this. I am sparing one, while deeply injuring another. Please forgive me."

She turned to go down the stairs, finding Raoul at her side. He reached out and put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her to him in a warm embrace. He began to cry. Meg put her head on his shoulder, rubbing her hand along his back. She at once felt guilty, he was her friend, had been Christine's fiancé, but now she was married, a swirl of emotions raced through her mind, she couldn't think of him that way, she couldn't…"

Raoul pulled away from Meg, "forgive me," he said, turning from her, a sudden blush rising from his neck. "I've not been quite myself…not for a long while Meg. Christine was like your sister…I'd not want to disrespect her memory." Meg looked down, no doubt Raoul shared her shame…if only he knew…

Meg walked over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, she tried to comfort him "we both struggle with this Raoul, do not worry that you are alone…it is difficult for us all." At last feeling relief that she was not lying, for it was difficult, very difficult…for them both.

Raoul turned, offering his arm once again to Meg. The two were arm in arm, facing Christine's father's grave. "God be with them…wherever they are" Raoul managed to say, as he turned and led Meg back to the carriage.

Though the growing distance placed a comforting barrier between them and the footprint of earth that had been witness to so many things in the shadow of that grave, the memories lingered. A swirl of fresh spring air whistled over the ground as if it were the rising tide of the sea….all things were becoming new…a new day was dawning.


	68. Laughter is such sweet music

Chapter 68 Laughter is such sweet music 

Nadir strode out to the gardens to join Madame Giry as she was enjoying her morning coffee. He'd slept in past sunrise, which was quite unusual for him.

"Good morning Madame!" he greeted her fetching a cup from the cart to the side of the table, pouring the steaming brew to the rim. Nadir pulled out a chair nodding to Madame Giry, "may I join you?" She tilted her head in response. He sat down, placing the saucer on the table, bringing the cup to his lips to cool it.

"Do you suppose he will be quite cantankerous this morning?" Nadir said taking his first sip. Madame Giry smiled at him. "No doubt Erik will be inhospitable to us, but I gather by the locked door this morning that Christine may be the very calming catalyst that we needed, for she no doubt spent the night at his side." Nadir smirked.

"That young woman has been a blessing to Erik" he said, taking another sip from his cup. "I'd dare say she saved his life." Madame Giry looked at him with curiosity. "Whatever do you mean?" Nadir sighed, there was so much he knew, but so little he could tell her…he would leave that to Erik.

"Let us just say that Erik has been lost for a great number of years, and by that I do not mean physically, but rather metaphorically. He's cold and hard, calculating." Madame Giry listened, knowing all to well herself. "But in her presence, some of this seems to melt away. Even in his great period of fever, when nothing medicinal comforted him, her singing….her touch…seemed to relieve him. One does not have that affect on another unless they are deeply intertwined, breathing the same air, sharing the same blood. She was all that he needed..." Nadir trailed off.

Madame Giry sipped at her coffee. She was a patient, intelligent woman, knowing well that Nadir would tell her much more if she did not ply him with questions, but merely act as a sounding board for his thoughts.

"Erik's life has taken him to places where none would have dared to follow…places that would give even the hardest of hearts terrors in the night. He was a spectacle wherever he went, if not for one reason, then another." Nadir was staring past Madame Giry, the wandering of his thoughts playing out in the changing expressions on his face….the pain in his eyes.

"Erik was highly regarded, valued…in some circles. His mask was perceived to be nothing more than part of his mystery, not a flaw…it gave him some status…." Nadir shook his head a throaty chortle escaping him. "It strikes me as odd…what is regarded with revelry by some is outcast by others…even though it is one in the same thing." He lowered his eyes, deep in thought.

Madame Giry sat silently, taking in the morning sun, the warm breezes, and the one-sided conversation that would lead her to a deeper understanding of the boy she'd saved so many years ago.

Nadir continued, "Erik, no doubt you discovered, is rather brilliant…being self-taught it is rather amazing what he knows." Madame Giry smiled. She wondered if during his time with Nadir, Erik had had as ravenous an appetite for literature and textbooks as he had when he was in his lair under the Opera House. He had quite literally devoured books by the volume there. Madame Giry had exhausted nearly every library she'd had access to for him by the time she'd left to marry.

Nadir sighed, "his life is so much different now…so much less complicated…even if he is running…" Nadir turned back to face Madame Giry, sensing he'd already said too much. "So, what do you think he will say this morning? Do you suppose, as I do, that he will demand to be dressed and allowed to walk the beaches?" This made Madame Giry laugh, and in turn, Nadir laughed also. They both knew Erik well. One his past, one his distant past, but one thing had never changed about Erik, his countenance.

XXXXX

Christine awoke, glad that Erik was resting peacefully. She slipped down to her room and Sara helped her to dress in her usual morning clothes. Christine had not been one to be a neglectful new wife, she had taken ownership of Erik's home, seeing to it that all things were cared for while he was recuperating.

She visited the gardens, the greenhouse, the whole house had a once-over each day. She wanted everything to be perfect for the day when Erik was awake. Today an excitement tingled through her as she thought about how proud Erik would be of her. Some rooms had been altered slightly from their intended function, to make room for the additional house guests, but everything else was intact, just as he had left it. His hired staff had risen to the occasion, making every accommodation that they might if their employer had been directing their activities.

Christine's last stop was the kitchen, where Sara was busy helping the other staff prepare breakfast. "Good morning Madame!" came their cheerful greeting. They fancied Christine. Though she was by all measure their employer too, they regarded her with high esteem that though she was demanding, she was always thanking and praising them for a job well done. "Good morning to you all…if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to have my morning coffee in the room with my husband. Perhaps you could bring a second cup and a few soft eggs?" Sara nodded, it would be her pleasure.

Christine made her way to the water closet, collecting a basin of warm water, several fresh towels, and soap. She felt almost giddy, realizing that today, Erik would be awake for her to converse with. She wouldn't be handling a limp, unresponsive body, as she had so many mornings before. She slipped into the room, leaving the basin and towels on the table. She then slipped down the hall to the large master bedroom, that had yet to be occupied. She'd been in there numerous times to put away the clothes that Erik had brought with him, but she never stayed…it didn't seem right to be there without him in it. They had decided to keep Erik in the small front bedroom where the best breeze and light came from the ocean until he was fully recuperated.

Christine found a white shirt, a pair of soft black pants, a pair of stockings as well as a pair of shoes. No doubt the shoes would be merely an ornament for now, but would make Erik feel better to have them on she imagined. Christine slipped back into the room. Erik was still resting, peacefully on his right side, his back exposed. Even now, in his weakened state, his muscular frame was dominant, looking as if at any moment it would leap from the bed. Christine smiled as she walked over to him, leaning down to kiss his left shoulder.

Erik stirred, jerking at first, and then holding his side, a pained expression on his face. Christine gently led him to his back. Erik groaned a bit as he opened his eyes to find Christine standing over him. "Good morning my dear Erik, I trust you slept well?" Erik did not smile. He looked up at the ceiling still not sure if he was awake or if this was yet another part of the unending dream he'd been immersed in.

As soon as Christine put the warm cloth on his forehead, he knew he was most definitely awake. "Christine, why are you up and about, you should be resting, you do not want to over exert yourself in your…" Christine reached out her fingers placing them lightly on Erik's lips.

"First, good morning I love you my husband." She leaned down placing a delicate kiss on his lips. Erik's eyes softened for a moment. "Second" Christine began as she wrung the cloth out in the bowl and began pushing it about his neck and chest "we must choose our timing to announce our news. As I mentioned last night, only you, the doctor, and Madame Giry know of such things."

She lathered the towel again, this time reaching out for Erik's arm, but he pulled it away. "I am quite awake now" he said indignantly, and quite capable of bathing myself!" Christine laughed. "Erik, though your sharp temper and quick wit have been missed, please do not forget I have been doing this for months now while you slept, you hardly need to be shy now!" Erik grunted at her and turned his head away. "And quite without permission!" Erik retorted.

Christine laughed again. Erik's own stupidity now resonating in his mind, made him smile, although he'd not admit it to her. "Ah yes, it would have been much better to leave you in a sweaty heap." Christine reached out and took his arm into her hand; this time he did not fight it.

"Christine," Erik began, trying to ignore the sensation of the warm water, the gentle hands, and the soft breezes as they threatened to lull him into an unguarded state, "I wish to see the mirror again." Christine's smile vanished, a concerned look taking its place. Christine continued bathing him. "Christine?" Erik looked up at her. "Yes, when I am finished, I'll fetch it for you" was all she could say. He huffed, deciding there was little he could do but wait. Christine was thorough, being certain that she attended to every detail with her "patient." She took a fresh soft towel and patted it over Erik's body as it dried in the warming breeze. Even though she was his wife, he felt uncomfortable with her dressed and attending to him, and he obviously less so.

Christine turned to the items she had in the chair. "I hope these meet your approval?" Erik smiled briefly as he looked at the crisp white shirt she had in her hand. She was going to let him get dressed after all he thought to himself. "Yes, quite" he replied. Christine helped Erik sit to an upright position. Much to his surprise the stiffness of the previous evening had not lingered. He coughed heavily, as he had done the day before when the doctor had been there. "Yes, he'll be bringing you some more of that medicine when he comes back on Saturday."

Christine slipped first one arm and then the other into the shirt. Erik was sitting up under his own power now as she did so, surprising both of them. The shirt was like a slice of heaven….a bit of normalcy in his otherwise altered world. "Now, the tricky part" Christine was guiding Erik's shoulders back to the bed and began pulling his pants up over his feet. Erik winched a couple of times as she had him twist and turn so she could tug the pants up and fasten them around his waist. Having that done, the pair rested, both a bit winded from the ordeal.

Christine leaned over and kissed Erik on the lips. Trying to interject a bit of levity she said "you are good practice for me for when that son of yours arrives!" Christine found it humorous, Erik did not. He wanted to be independent and was only allowing this first, because he could not do it himself, and second because he had no choice. Christine sensed his lack of amusement so continued putting on his socks and at last shoes. Finally he was fully dressed.

Looking at him he would have appeared to be a man having just woken from a nap. "Christine? If you please?" She'd almost forgotten about his request, and begrudgingly went to retrieve the mirror.

Erik sat alone in the room, enjoying the sensation of clothing on his skin, shoes on his feet. True, it had been but a day that he'd been aware of it, but in those hours he had missed it. His hand wandered up to his face. Aside from the obvious dips and several small patches of scabbing, the skin felt taut, firm….and smooth. He tried to recall exactly what it looked like, but he could not, as the shock of the first viewing surely blocked some of it out.

Christine dutifully reappeared, mirror in one hand. She wanted to give him her assurances, but thought better of it as he had his jaw set, and was ready to see it in full light. "Erik, I have to go down to the kitchen, I'll be back in a few minutes." She handed him the mirror, turned and departed.

Erik was sitting up just enough to see the tops of the trees, and a bit of deep blue of the water just beyond them. He watched the curtains fluttering again in the gentle breeze. It was a perfect day outside…he would not allow his own fears to ruin it. Reaching down to the instrument on his chest, he lifted it, eyes closed. The initial shock was over last night, but now he would be able to see each detail. As was his fashion, he breathed deeply and hoisted the mirror up to his face with his left hand.

His eyes darted back and forth, the right eye no longer gaped at the lower rim, hair was growing down nearly even with the hairline on the left side. He turned his head further to the left, bringing it closer to get a better view. The skin was slightly red, and appeared rough around the edges. The enormous growth that had covered his temple was…was gone, and in its place was a patch of deep pink skin that had been stretched and sutured over the area. He pulled the mirror closer. A faint outline of new growth of an eyebrow was appearing from beneath the skin, a small patch of black hair trailing down along his ear. He closed his eyes, running his hand over the area, it felt so strange…so normal.

Erik put the mirror down on his chest, his arms exhausted from the extension. He wasn't sure what he was feeling, perhaps numb was a good description. Yes, Christine had explained it, it was very necessary. But why would a surgeon alter someone so? He could have left the scar, for it couldn't have been worse than what was already there. Was it at Christine's request that he'd tended to this blight in his appearance? Was it because it was unbearable for the doctor? Was it because it had to be fixed in order to prevent further infection or damage? He'd have to ask when the doctor returned. Whatever the explanation, Erik was altered outside…and something deep inside him began to ache.

He looked around for his mask on the dresser, but it wasn't there. He'd had that with him every day since his time in Persia, it had been his only means of being presentable in public, and he felt as though he was missing a leg or arm without it there. No doubt it would no longer fit, and was likely was no longer needed, but he'd feel better knowing where it was all the same.

Erik heard the tinking of coffee cups just outside the door, and a quiet rap. It was not Christine. "Enter," Erik said, wanting to cover his face out of instinct, but quickly putting his hand back down on the bed. Sara pushed open the door with the tray, bringing it to rest on the small table next to the bed.

"Good morning sir, Christine requested that she take her breakfast with you this morning." Sara turned on her heels to leave the room, the sting of the last evening still fresh in her mind. "Sara" Erik called out, "thank you for bringing me my music box.." Sara turned around and looked tearfully at Erik. "Do you remember?" Erik choked up. "Yes, Sara, I remember…you and your sister….that day in the city." "It is good to see you again my friend," she said, smiling at him as she closed the door behind her.

Erik was once again alone. Light glinting off the two silver domes that were on the tray next to him. Curious, he lifted the first. Slices of toast, oatmeal, fresh berries with cream. He smiled, that would be quite good this morning. He twisted trying to get the coffee pot, but could not. This would be his first cup in two months, and he wished to enjoy it now.

Christine reappeared, having changed into something a bit more lady-like, a pink summery weight gown, with delicate white lace. Her corset was a bit looser, as she didn't want to pinch herself now. "Christine, you look simply lovely in that dress." Erik smiled at her. She was pleased to see that he was in an amiable mood. Perhaps he was repressing his anger, or had decided he would discuss it later, either way, she would enjoy the pleasantness of this side of Erik while she could.

"I see breakfast has arrived." Christine sat down, pulling the domes off of both plates. Erik scowled, the plates were not the same. "Do not tell me that I am to eat simply eggs for breakfast!" Christine laughed. "My dear Erik, you've wish to rush into everything all at once" Christine immediately blushing as soon as the worlds left her tongue. Erik looked down and then back up at Christine with a mischievous smile. She smiled back at him coyly, memories of last night lingering in her gaze.

She shook her head "we will start with eggs today, perhaps tomorrow we can add some toast." Erik pouted his face, resigned to the fact he had little control over his menu as long as Christine was watching over him. Once he was better, he would have a large steak with mounds of fresh vegetables, a glass of wine, a large hunk of bread…. Erik flinched as the first bite of eggs presented itself on the fork that Christine extended. He smiled, taking the fork from her hand. "I may not be able to bathe myself just yet, but indeed I can manage to feed myself!"

Christine laughed at him again, placing the plate on his lap, and a napkin on his chest. "Very well then!" She sat down at the table next to him diving her spoon into the bowl of oatmeal, after saying a silent prayer. "Coffee?" Christine motioned toward the pot. "Why yes, I'd love some…it seems like ages since I've had a cup!" Christine catching the playful tone in Erik's voice began to laugh. Her laughter making him smile, it was music to his ears.

XXXXX

Outside in the garden Madame Giry cocked her head. "Is that Christine?" Nadir smiled, putting his cup down. "Yes….and Erik too!"

**Author's Notes:**

**Captain Oblivious**: You have a wonderful sense of humor. I have no idea what you look like, but I've imagined some non-descript form in my mind performing all of the antics you've described. If you've ever seen the sitcom 'Frasier' you may think of yourself something like Maris, someone who has so complex a character that they simply cannot be embodied in one being….hmmmm…..sounds sort of "out-there" doesn't it.

Free movies! You work in a movie theater….hmmmm….a clue to your future…..perhaps you could find yourself as a chief employee of the Opera Populaire…someone who assists Erik from the inside…..hmmmmmm the plot thickens….something like the butter at the bottom of the theater popcorn machine when it cools and all the lights in the theater have dimmed I hope you enjoy the next chapters! Oh, I couldn't call it plastic surgery, simply because Science hadn't advance far enough to have even identified that polymer. Perhaps we shall call it pioneering surgery….or as Erik would call it.. "butchery of mercy!"

**Pertie:** Thank you for the compliment. I have to tell you I some inkling of where this is all headed, but it really does evolve as the words flow through my fingertips. Just when I think I know where I'm going, I end up somewhere else entirely. It is part of the adventure of creation….you never know what you're getting until you get there! I hope you enjoy the next chapters as much as I did!

**Waytoointoerik**: I am glad to see you survived. I was going to send out the rescue squad, then I realized I had no idea where in the world you live! Yes….sweet fluff….its sort of like cotton candy, sweet and sticky…but addicting…. Hope you enjoy the next chapters!

**Diveprincess:** Thank you, I appreciate your review. I love writing this because I know you guys are out there reading it! My heart pounds when I write each chapter, thinking about when and where in the world each person is reading it. It gives me goosebumps! We are all sharing this story, and there is just something special about that link. Sorry, I get a bit nostalgic from time to time…. Hope you enjoy the next chapters!

**Xciel**: I'm not quite sure which part you were referring to in your review, but I assure you, anything that was humorous, was accidental. However I have to admit I did laugh when all of the people were in Erik's room when he first woke up in chapter 60…but I suppose that isn't what you were referring to. Anyway, I hope you keep up with the story. If you like dark…it will soon suit your tastes just fine…..


	69. Different Faces

Chapter 69 Faces 

"Ah, Vicomte, yes, I have your table ready for you," said the gentleman in the perfectly pressed black coat, white linen cloth over his arm, as he escorted Raoul and Meg to the table by window. It was Raoul's favorite as it overlooked the gardens. "My mother used to love coming here. She'd listen for hours to the latest social travails, as the ladies sipped their tea, gossiping like old hens."

Raoul looked lost in thought, as he waved off the man, preferring to assist Meg into her chair himself. Meg thanked him smiling timidly feeling a blush on her cheeks as Raoul's hand left the small of her back.

"Christine and I dined here often when I was…" he stopped, shaking his head. He sat in his chair, lips pursed, disgusted with himself. "I'm sorry Meg. I'm not making this any easier for either of us am I?" He glanced up at her. Meg smiled, replying "no matter what happens Raoul, she will always be with us. Memories of her are everywhere here. This place, the Opera House, the nearby parks, the shops…everywhere I look I can think of something that Christine and I did there."

Raoul felt somewhat relieved by her comforting words. "Hmmm, I suppose you're right," Raoul said thoughtfully. "Still, it is in poor form that we dwell on this every time we meet, after all the purpose of my bringing you to Paris is to help distract you from your current situation, and for us to find comfort in one another's company. I'm not exactly behaving as a gracious host bringing up something that only time and mercy can resolve!" Meg was about to reply when the waiter arrived.

Raoul nodded, and the man disappeared without a word, bringing back to the table a silver pitcher filled with ice water and lemons, pouring a glass for each of them. "We'll be waiting for my father and sister to join us for lunch sir, thank you." The man nodded again, and disappeared.

Raoul and Meg were both staring out the open doors into the gardens. The day was surprisingly warm for the end of April, and everything they could see, and some things they couldn't, were blooming.

Raoul exhaled "Meg, tell me of your aunt and uncle, how are they fairing?" Meg turned her thoughts from the pleasantness of the afternoon, to the serious side of keeping her story straight, minding each detail as she'd been instructed. "My uncle's health is failing fast, I dare say he'll not make it past this Spring. My mother has been taking excellent care of him, but there is only so much one can do to forestall the inevitable affects of advancing age." Raoul nodded. "My aunt…she's in good spirits, though she's had bouts with the stomach flu recently, and seems so tired much of the time…I do worry about her." Meg was picturing Christine in her mind. She worried for her friend, that she was pushing herself to the point of exhaustion taking care of Erik. Meg snapped her eyes quickly trying to shake the image from her mind.

"My mother is looking forward to returning to the Opera House when it is finished. I understand that all of the dormitories have been re-done, and a suite has been built for her upstairs so she can keep a more watchful eye over her charges?" Raoul smiled, "yes, we thought it best that she be able to be closer to them, and to you. She certainly deserves more room than the little space she's had all these years. After all she's given up her home to be there, she should at least have a small kitchen and sitting room of her own."

Meg smiled back at Raoul. He'd thought highly of her mother, as had his father, that pleased her. "You're very kind to have been so considerate of her. She loves the Opera House, it has been her home for so many years," Meg sighed. Raoul sat back sipping his water.

"Meg what was your father like?" Meg turned to Raoul, a curious look on her face, as if to ask why. "Today seems to be about father's…we've paid our respects to Christine's father, we are even now preparing to have lunch with mine, it seems fitting that we speak of yours too!" Meg smiled. It was really the first personal question that she could recall Raoul asking of her.

"My father was wonderful…he made my mother very happy. I was quite young when he passed on, but I still remember sitting in his lap, or at his feet by the fire when he read stories to me, as my mother picked at her embroidery."

Meg's smile was so genuine how it lit up her face…it made Raoul smile too. He flinched. He'd not really looked at Meg like that, and suddenly felt ashamed. He took another drink of his water, scanning the room for his father. "I'm not sure why they are so late, it's rather unlike him to be tardy." Raoul was hoping desperately that Meg had not noticed him staring at her.

Meg looked up, snapping once again to reality. Raoul resettled himself in the chair before looking back at Meg. He smiled politely. There was an awkward moment of silence before Meg began. "What was your father like? I mean when he was younger, when you were a boy?"

Raoul laughed "truthfully, he's always been rather rigid, not much has changed in that regard." Meg smiled at his response. "Did the two of you spend much time together?" Raoul looked down at the table before responding "my father's always been rather business minded, most everything was serious business. Oh, but.." Raoul stood reaching into his pocket. "I do have a few photographs of him actually, I keep them with me, as they have my mother in them. Raoul pulled out a rather large leather pouch, sitting back down, he untied the sashes.

Pulling several pictures out, he began to scan each one before handing it to Meg with an explanation. "This is one of my father, mother, and I by the house as it was being constructed. It was rather small then, many additions have been added since that picture was taken." He went through several others, recanting the circumstances under which they were taken. Meg had an odd sensation as she looked at the pictures. Yes they contained people but they were rather eclipsed by the larger things captured by the photographs.

"Now, these are my two favorites of him," Raoul said, laying them out side-by-side on the table between them. "This was taken at the house by the sea. My father and I had gone out to the beach. I'd been whining for days for him to take a walk with me, but he'd been busy with social parties and business, but had relented and agreed that afternoon to come for a walk while he waited for the next group of visitors to arrive. That's why you see him in a black coat. Rather silly attire for a walk on the beach!"

Raoul went on "here you can see him watching me as I combed the sand looking for shells. Now this one it is when…" Raoul's voice seemed to pass into a fog as Meg gazed more closely at the pictures, lifting the first one up to get a better look. There was Raoul as a small boy on his hands and knees digging in the sand. There, over him stood a man. Long legs, fitted black jacket, jet-black hair…Meg swallowed hard, gasping ever so slightly. She felt dizzy. Raoul's voice pierced through her hazy delusion.

"This one, you can see how short my father's patience ran, he found no humor at the sand I'd piled on his shoes, see how my mother is covering her mouth in the background trying to stifle a laugh?" Raoul was smiling mischievously looking at it.

Meg thought she would be ill. She lifted the last picture up close to her face to better examine the face of the man that stood over the small boy. He had his lips pursed, an expression of disapproval on his face as he looked down at the boy. She'd seen that face, that scowl before…and it was not that of the Monsieur De Chagny that she knew…it was the face of another. Meg felt the room spinning, Raoul becoming a blur. Then everything went black.

XXXXX

Erik had finished his modest serving of eggs, and was looking longingly at the food that Christine had left on her plate. She'd barely touched any of her fruit. Christine had abandoned her breakfast as she went on to tell him of the things that were blooming in the garden, how she'd made friends with the housekeepers and the cat that had been making it's home in the potting shed. "She has three kittens tucked away in the back. Their eyes are barely open Erik, they are so adorable."

Christine sensed that Erik had stopped listening, having either drifted off to sleep or was finding her conversation entirely too dull to require acknowledgement. She turned to look at him. He'd turned away from looking at the breakfast dishes and was staring at the ceiling, his right hand running along his cheek. Christine put her cup back on the tray and went to his side.

"Does it hurt?" Christine asked as she brought a damp cloth to wash his face, but he turned away. "No, it is not painful, although it does itch irritatingly" Erik said. "I have some salve if you'd…" Erik interrupted.

"Why did he decide to do it, was it a necessity, was it.." he couldn't bring himself to ask what he really wanted to know…had she asked the surgeon to do it?

Christine sighed. She'd known these questions were coming, but the responses were difficult. She knew it troubled him. Yes, it had changed his appearance, making him look something just short of normal, but the intentions were of healing and nothing more.

"Erik, it was a difficult decision. The repercussions of taking that vessel from your cheek…it could have killed you." Erik turned away. "I suppose it was a dutiful act of mercy then," Erik muttered. Christine moved to the other side of the bed, sitting down next to the side that Erik always seemed to want to hide.

"Erik," she began slowly "once he had taken what he needed to save your life, he worried that the growths, now exposed to air, would begin moving rapidly." She paused, taking in a deep breath. "Indeed they did. Within several days, there was a large thick growth rising out of the very place where he'd taken the flesh, and it looked to be even more ruddy than what had been there before. He'd sent that very night to London for books in the medical library at the University. Within days he'd begun his treatment, trying to stave off the advancing of the condition. Once the other ointments and astringents arrived from Germany, he was able to control the advances, and soon several days had passed without any new growth reappearing. By this time, there was quite a large hole in the side of your cheek, just there," Christine said, guiding Erik's hand to the large patch of new skin that had healed and melded well with his other flesh. It felt smooth under his fingers, and save the few red dots that lined the outside, it looked like the skin on any other part of his face.

Erik had to ask, "Christine…" he paused, not wanting to hurt her, but needing to know. "Christine did my face frighten you then?" Christine turned away. She could not lie, it had terrified her. It had looked like a cake that is disturbed before it is finished cooking, all sunken and shriveled in the middle. She had to choose her words carefully. Cake was still a sweet, desirable thing, even when it is sunken.

"Yes, the thought of you having to live in yet another mask frightened me…for your sake." That was not entirely untrue, though it was not the complete truth. Erik looked away "so then it was not you who asked to have me "fixed" but rather the doctor who saw fit to change my appearance without my permission?"

Erik could feel himself growing angry. It was his face, his life, his cross to bare….how could this have happened without his knowledge, without his consent? "Leave me for now Christine, please leave me…go find Madame Giry or Nadir…I'd like to be left alone for awhile."

Christine was hurt. She didn't know if he was angry with her, or if he was simply in shock and needed time to think. "Very well" she responded. She stood, took the tray and disappeared out the door.

Erik pulled himself to a more upright position. His side ached, and his back was sore, but he needed to be upright. He reached over, holding the mirror before him, he simply stared. "Perhaps this is what my father looked like," he muttered as that was certainly not the face he remembered of his mother. Perhaps it was the face of no one at all….


	70. Misspoken Words

Chapter 70 Mispoken Words 

"Meg….Meg….MEG!" She felt cold and clammy, but could feel the light stinging strikes on her cheeks. She barely opened her eyes and could see Raoul and his sister's faint images in the fuzzy mist surrounding her eyes. "MEG!" Raoul's voice bringing her to full consciousness.

She inhaled sharply, opening her eyes wide. "I'm sorry…I must have…" she began stammering. "Here, let us sit her up on that bench," Raoul said to his sister. They helped Meg to her feet, and though she was a bit shaky, they were able to move the small distance to the bench just outside of full view of the dining room, and the scores of curious eyes that were watching. "Poor thing" Raoul heard one woman say in the background.

Raoul turned to the waiter with a nod. The man reappeared with a fresh glass of water and a damp cloth. "Here, take a sip of this" Raoul said holding the glass against Meg's lips. Meg sipped politely as her full mind returned to her. How in the world would she explain what happened? Raoul's sister was at her side, now compressing the cool cloth along the nape of her neck. "I think that shopping this afternoon is entirely out for you my dear!" she said, eliciting a laugh from the trio.

"I'm terribly sorry….perhaps I've caught a touch of the flu from Chr.." Meg caught herself; Raoul looking at her rather puzzled. "I'm not making any sense am I…babbling like a fool I am, perhaps I struck my head when I fell" Meg said nervously, grabbing the glass from Raoul, taking another sip.

He smiled at her, a strange look on his face. In her verbal slip, she had brought Christine into the room for Raoul. There she was in his mind, standing before him in the pale pink dress she'd worn to the masquerade. She was smiling at him, a rather angelic glow about her. She was extending her hand to him, beckoning him to dance, to hold her.

"Raoul!" his sister had been politely calling his name, but now was more insistent as he'd not been responding. He shook his head, the dream evaporating. "I'm sorry, I think I myself am quite tired. We've been rising very early each day to oversee the construction at the Opera House." Raoul was trying feebly to cover his obvious mental absence. All at once he realized why his sister had shouted. He now realized he'd pulled Meg up into his arms, resting her against his chest, hand behind her head, his other hand firmly about her waist. His eyes grew wide, "Meg! I'm sorry….how forward of me….here….let me assist you…" Raoul swiftly placing Meg on the bench beside him.

Several women from the dining room were peering around the large marble pillars, whispering in one another's ears. Raoul's sister was glaring at them in disgust, the small crowd quickly dissipated.

Meg quietly cleared her throat, pushing her long blonde curls away from her face, politely smiling at Raoul's sister, not being able to even glance in Raoul's direction. She didn't even want to admit it to herself, but she could not deny the flutters she felt in her stomach as Raoul scooped her up into his arms. His obvious retraction had been disappointing, but the moment in his arms had confirmed for Meg, that in spite of all the reasons that it should not be so, her attraction to Raoul was growing more and more. The very thought frightening her.

"Meg, perhaps we should retire to the powder room…so you might freshen up a bit," his sister said taking Meg by the hand. Meg nodded "yes, thank you," she managed. The pair rose, Meg feeling a bit shaky still, Raoul's sister slipped her arm under Meg's, and one arm around her shoulder, leading her off.

Raoul watched them walk off, disappearing behind the corner. He shook his head that now rested in his hands. "What on earth am I doing….for all practical purposes she is Christine's sister! He couldn't get Christine out of his mind…though he felt a strange tickle of anticipation each time he knew he would see Meg…and that feeling had nothing to do with Christine at all!"

He stood straightening his coat. He needed some fresh air to clear his head…regain his composure. Walking out the double set of French doors into the garden, he breathed in deeply. His mother had spent hours here too, soaking up a bit of sun on the warm afternoons. She'd talked about how it was good for the soul to commune with nature. That memory, and the warm breeze that swirled around him, began to calm him.

Just over his shoulder he could hear a familiar voice "well man, where are they now? Am I to take my lunch without them?" It was his father, irritated by the disgrace of coming to an empty table. A man of his position could never afford to be seen dining alone! Raoul inhaled once more before calling out "I'm out here father!"

His father turned on his heels, waving off the waiter indignantly. "Ah, there you are!" Raoul braced himself for the plethora of questions he would soon face. "Yes…I am over here." He turned preparing to shake his father's hand.

XXXXX

Sara and the rest of the staff were busily preparing vegetables, kneading bread, and roasting meat for lunch that would be served in the garden just after noon. The first woman started "so, what do you think he'll be like now? Perhaps the few months of sleep will have done well to ease his demeanor!" The women began to laugh.

They seldom had opportunity to wait on their employer, having lived many years in the house without him. While they'd dutifully taken care of the property, dusting rooms that were never used, primping gardens that were never walked in, they had longed to have a "household" to care for just as all of their friends had. While his absence had made their work a bit easier with no laundry or formal dinners to prepare, they felt a bit like they were stealing from a man they barely knew.

Their salary had always arrived on time, provisions for their needs always arrived by delivery, and an open account at several shops in town had provided whatever else had been missing. It was rather like living in a castle with no king. The last two months had been a bit different, laundry, meals and the like were plentiful, but still the king had slept so it wasn't quite the same. Now that he was awake, the house would change, and though they were grateful to finally be able to serve him, they all feared for his temper, as they remembered it well.

"Ladies," Sara began "I know that I am but a new addition to his staff, and I'd dare say I'm probably old enough to be most of your mother's, save a few" she nodded at several who were gray about the temples. "I think it most impolite that we speak of him this way. We can all be difficult from time-to-time, and yet we shun others when they are? We should respect his home, his family, and most importantly his privacy!" With that the gossiping subsided, a quiet came over the kitchen staff as they busily turned to their work. Sara felt a bit forward, but had come to feel rather protective of her new "family."

XXXXX

Christine had wandered down to the gardens, a sorrowful look on her face. "Ah, Christine!" Nadir rose to greet her. "We could hear the laughter out of the…" he stopped. "Christine?"

Madame Giry rose to her feet, taking Christine by the hand and leading her to a chair at the table. "Are you alright my dear?" Christine smiled graciously at Madame Giry, and Nadir. "Yes, quite, thank you." Nadir pulling out a chair first for Christine, and then Madame Giry, before joining them.

"We heard you laughing not an hour ago." Madame Giry said. "Yes, he'd laughed at the thought of his first cup of coffee in ages…" Christine trailed off.

Nadir spoke "and now?" Christine looked up from the small crack of rocks she'd been staring at "he wanted to be alone with the mirror." She said flashing a weak smile.

Nadir interjected "perhaps it is best that he spend some time searching it with his eyes. We have all grown accustomed to it, but for Erik….this is quite a change. This alteration will mean so many things for him. When he is fully healed….he will be able to stroll about just as any other man…" Nadir looked at the two women. "What we have not touched…what has not been altered…is what is deep within Erik….there….he is still the same."

Nadir looked at the trees in the distance, "I'm afraid….that part of him can never be repaired, perhaps pushed back to the recesses of his mind yes….but it will never leave him….that he will take to his very grave." Nadir looked sadly at Christine. "You'll learn….he will learn how to adapt…but it will take time. Erik is a survivor, this too shall be conquered. He's learned to live in the shadows…the shame…every day of his life he's been trying to hide something….and now his physical body shall be free, though his mind may be a prisoner of that darkness forever."

Nadir took Christine's hand into his. "If ever there was a bright hope for this man, it is you my dear. He loves you deeply, I can tell. It was only you that consoled him when he was fevered, only your touch quelled him when he struggled. Though he's not told me with his own lips, I know that you are his saving grace!"

Christine felt hot tears running down her face, though she smiled at Nadir, glancing over to Madame Giry. "He's no doubt angry with me….for what I've done….what I agreed to let the surgeon do…please tell me that I did not make a mistake in allowing this!"

Madame Giry rose and kneeled before Christine, taking her other hand. "My dear, you did what any loving wife would do…you saved him in the only way you knew how. Do not worry…though his temper will flare, though his words may be cutting, do not worry, he'll adjust to it in time. All he really needs now is to know that you love him….the man beneath the skin…just as you did before. That knowledge will bring him peace."

Madame Giry reassuringly patted Christine's hand. "Now Christine, let us take a stroll through these beautiful gardens. You need some fresh air." She rose, nodding to Nadir and back toward the house. Nadir nodded in acknowledgement. He would wait until they strolled a little ways before he'd pay his old friend his first conscious visit in quite some time.

XXXX

Erik turned his head. The acoustics of his home were a wonder even to him. When one has such an ear for sound and a love of architecture, it is easy to craft things in order to take full advantage of them. The carefully placed "sun room" where he now lay, had been positioned just perfectly above the gardens below. The line of trees just beyond them, created the perfect natural amphitheater. Though he'd only been able to see them, when the curtains fluttered high enough, he'd heard every word that was exchanged among them.

Erik sighed. He was angry. The anger threatened to crowd the love he felt for Christine, and the deep appreciation of all that surrounded him. As the Phantom, the Opera Ghost, his temper had only intensified his mystique. His tantrums were expected…normal. But now…as Erik the man, husband….father, he would have to mend his ways…assimilate…change…..to fit into their world.

He thought to himself he was fortunate to have three people in his life that cared about him. Genuinely cared. One could ask for little more. He had been a creature of solitude, and though he cherished what he now had, he longed for the hours of quiet reflection. It was there that he truly felt at home. This exposed world that the rest of the inhabitants occupied seemed all too foreign to him; like living on a distant planet, whose air, light, and soil, was not that of your own. He'd have to shift his thinking….learn to appreciate…learn to be patient….learn to live. He pursed his lips, trying to release the clench in his jaw. Change never came without pain….and pain had been the realm of his life …for as long as he had conscious thought.

Erik closed his eyes. He knew full well that in but a few moments Nadir would be in the room with him. What would he say to this man, this confidante, this dear friend? Nadir was as thick-skinned, strong headed as he, and no amount of reassurance would assuage the guilt that Nadir felt, Erik knew it.

Perhaps this complicated dance around emotion had become a game for them. The current situation would only further complicate it. None-the-less, Erik would be clever. Finding some way to reassure Nadir that he was mending well, and that he should have no fear of retaliation… Erik smirked to himself, perhaps a bit of levity was in order.

**Author's Notes:**

First, let me say, you have all been quite wonderful! I hope that someone brightens your day as much as your reviews do mine! I am having a wonderful time writing this story, and it pleases me that you are enjoying it!

**Captain Oblivious**: Perch on the roof? Pray do tell, have you ever seen the movie Dracula 2000! (It's an oldie, but hey, it has Gerard Butler in it! And…BONUS…he's in a cape in this movie too!) If not, rent it, because there is a scene where Dracula is perched on the roof over the city of New Orleans….that is the mental picture I got when I read your review…that would be a terrible fall…it would be a little like a mosh-pit during Mardis Gras! Anyway, I've digressed. Yes, they are happy….but can this tortured pair ever find true peace? Erik has never had a normal life….but maybe Sunday strolls (in public), playing a game of Cricket with his brood would help…one just never knows. He is patient on the outside yes, but the inner turmoil continues to brew…he is the brooding sort….and they shan't stay calm forever…rather like a sleeping volcano….

**TruPhan**: Welcome to the family! Thank you for your review. Yes, I quite agree, Erik will be an excellent father, although he will have to learn a bit of patience in order to do it well! I hope you enjoy the next chapters!

**XCiel**: Oh good. I'm glad the chapter helped make sense of my ramblings. Thanks for the review. I look forward to reading them every day. I hop on my computer in the morning just hoping to see if someone has read the new chaps! Hope you enjoy the next ones!

**PhantomFan13:** Thanks for the review. Yes, the story is a bit disturbing…rather like real life sometimes! I cannot tell you how it will turn out, alas, that would spoil the story! I hope you enjoy the next chapters.

**Stormyrainedoncowgirl**: Welcome to the family! You have a most interesting tag name! I'm glad you're enjoying the story. There is more to come…and things are just starting to heat up!


	71. Slight of hand, slip of tongue

Chapter 71 Slight of hand, slip of tongue 

Raoul and his father had settled into the table, and were waiting rather impatiently for the women to return. His father looked at his pocket watch incessantly, though Raoul knew he'd have plenty of time before he'd have to be back at the Opera House.

"Son," he began in a low tone "the construction is coming along quite famously. The foremen assure me we will be done on or ahead of our schedule. Consequently, we will need to re-staff a bit sooner than I had first anticipated. With Meg not feeling well, it wouldn't be any wonder if she will have want to return home before the start of next week. Perhaps now would be an opportune time to give her the letter to deliver to her mother. We will need her to return in four weeks' time to put the dormitories in order, and settle in to her new residence."

Feeling sufficiently keen, he leaned back taking a sip of his brandy. Rubbing his chin, he leaned back in. "I've no want to force nature's hand, but I do wish that her uncle would hurry his way through death's door to allow Madame Giry the courtesy of returning here in due time!" He smiled, no hint of apology or embarrassment in his expression.

Raoul felt sick in the pit of his stomach. His father proved yet again that his heartlessness ran deep, and everything in life was about business…nothing more. He was about to chastise his father when Meg and his sister returned, looking much refreshed.

The two gentlemen stood as the waiter appeared from nowhere pulling out the chairs for each lady. Raoul glanced coolly at Meg, preferring to avoid eye-contact, "I do hope you are feeling better…perhaps a bit of lunch will assist you." Meg could not bring herself to look at Raoul, the lack of eye contact being observed carefully by his father. Meg replied "yes, I am quite, thank you."

His sister aided Meg in putting a napkin on her lap as the waiter brought over fresh glasses of iced tea for the ladies. "Now good sir, do bring us a plate of those sandwiches, and tray of savories for the ladies, and look smart about it." He smiled looking at his daughter. He'd kindly remembered what a sweet-tooth she had. The waiter bowed slightly moving hurriedly toward the kitchens.

"Now then, Meg, do tell us, how is your mother?" Monsieur De Chagny inquired, with little genuine interest other than to begin his conversation about their return.

Meg replied "she is quite well, thank you." Knowing full well the next question before it was asked, Meg continued. "My uncle has taken quite ill, and I fear he will not last through the summer. My aunt has been battling the flu, while he's been bedridden. Mother has spent much time caring for them both. Though it is a labor of love, it is tedious work, and I fear she grows quite weary of the day-to-day drudgery of it." Meg smiled at him politely, still averting her eyes from Raoul.

"I see…hmmm. Perhaps a return to the Opera House would be a relief to her cares. Does she talk of this often?" Meg winced just slightly. Her mother had expressed the intentions of returning one day, but now, given the present circumstances, she wasn't entirely certain what would become of them.

"We try not to speak of it too often, as it precipitates feelings of tremendous guilt in my aunt for having taken us away from Paris." Not entirely a lie Meg thought to herself.

"Well then, perhaps this would be a good time to present you with this." He reached across the table, handing a large ivory envelope to Meg. She flipped it over. It bore the crest of the De Chagny family.

"What is this?" Meg inquired. "It is the details regarding her new quarters, and when we would like her to occupy them." "I see," said Meg. "I shall be certain to give this to her upon my return next week."

Raoul's father glanced over at Raoul who'd begun shaking his head to indicate his declination. "Perhaps Raoul could accompany you to your uncle's so that he might bring back to Paris, the confirmation that you and your mother will be returning on schedule."

Meg froze. Her pulse quickened as the repercussions of such an unexpected visit raced through her mind. The group had never discussed what to do if someone actually wanted to call on them, it simply never seemed plausible. The address they had given the Opera House managers was not false, but certainly the proximity was no where near where they actually resided, it was several safe hours away from there. There was no time to dispatch a messenger to make the necessary arrangements. Meg stammered "that won't be necessary….I'm…I'm certain that Raoul has many more pressing things to attend to….I can…on my next …" Meg stopped, realizing that she was babbling incoherently.

Raoul sensed Meg was unnerved; he knew it had been his forwardness that disconcerted her. Now Meg feared even traveling alone with him. Raoul intervened, shaking his head "an escort could accompany us if you like Meg, perhaps my sister could…"

Without thought, Meg interrupted "No! No….that shan't be necessary." She rose from her chair, feeling a bit light headed once more. "Thank you kindly for the tea, I'll be making my way back to the inn as I'm not feeling at all well just now…perhaps we could discuss this later?"

Meg turned, rushing out the French doors and into the gardens. True, those paths didn't lead to a proper exit, but she'd have no trouble moving through the bushes. She simploy must get home…..she had to deliver the envelope to her mother, she had to talk to Nadir, she had to do this quickly lest Raoul's father insist that he come with her…she couldn't afford to be followed. She needed desperately to look at that face again…that sleeping face….

Reaching inside the folds of her dress as she crossed the lawns, she pulled from it a singular article. She felt tremendous guilt for having deprived someone of their cherished possession, but it was absolutely necessary…no one would believe her without that picture. She darted swiftly down the alley and up the stairs of her inn, as though she was being pursued by a ravenous lion. She closed the door behind her and found her traveling bag. She'd set out all of her things, for an extended stay. Now she found herself carelessly shoving them into her bag, hoping only to fetch the hansom before Raoul or his father made it to the Inn to stop her.

XXXXX

Raoul sat fixed to his chair, a horrified expression on his face. "Perhaps if someone had kept his hands to himself the poor thing wouldn't have spooked like a frightened foal!" Raoul's sister scolded her brother.

His father snapped his head back and forth between the two. "What is this you speak of? Who could not keep their hands off of ….Meg? Madame Giry's daughter?" he gasped in disbelief.

Raoul felt the heat of deep shame invading his cheeks. "RAOUL! What have you done? Are you mad? If you've offended her, we will be quite without a ballet mistress, and quite without an opera…what then shall we tell our investors?"

Raoul squirmed, feeling a young boy all over again. "It was nothing, I'm afraid my dear sister here is exaggerating the story." Their father looked over at her "well?" he demanded.

She glanced over at Raoul, feeling somewhat sorry, but believing her father had to know. He would likely be approached by the husbands of the gossip hounds who even now watched with earnest interest from a distance.

"When Meg fainted, we were both tending to her. As she came about, she started talking of being exposed to the flu. It was then that Raoul reached out capriciously and pulled her onto his lap! Cradling her in his arms, pulling her head to his chest, grabbing her about the waist, whispering that he loved her into her ear!"

Raoul nearly spun around full circle "that's not true…I did no such thing….I simply was trying to revive her…I…." Quickly realizing that his sister had not misspoken, her face as cool as a fresh snow. He looked shamefacedly at his father.

"RAOUL De Chagny…what on earth have you done! If that woman returns home, telling her mother of your behavior..." He was trying very hard to keep from bellowing, "I implore you, go to her now and apologize before she runs from this city and we never see her or her mother again!"

Raoul stood, both wanting to strike his father for ordering him about in such a brash way, and wanting to run from the city and never look back. He simply turned, and without retort, left his father and sister sitting at the table.

The waiter arrived, curious look on his face. "Dinner for two just now good man…just for two." He said lifting his glass, spilling the contents into his mouth before slamming it to the table.


	72. Seek and yeah shall find

Chapter 72 Seek and yea shall find 

Christine and Madame Giry strolled leisurely through the gardens, tarrying briefly to look at the orchids, painted daisies, and the assorted lilies that Erik had chosen. "He's not missed a detail. The gardener said he even gave specific instructions as to the placement of each color of flower. See how each hue darkens as it moves toward the edge of the garden?" Christine was making polite conversation, thankful for the brief distraction. It didn't last.

Madame Giry walked in front of Christine, stopping her, then leading her to the bench at the edge of the garden that overlooked the glittering sea. "Do you know why he chose this place Christine?" Christine turned to look at her expectantly. "He had talked about it only briefly…a distant place…I thought it was a figment of his imaginative mind really until we arrived here." She looked up at Christine. "I think he chose this place because it reminded him of the stories that you spoke of as a child…of you and your father living in a house by the sea."

Christine gazed out with undulating adulation at the grounds that led down to the sands of the shore, and then towards the back of the house. Madame Giry smiled. "Do you notice anything that looks familiar child?"

Christine stopped, turning back to Madame Giry "whatever do you mean?" Madame Giry lifted Christine's chin, and turned it toward a small collection of trees at the edge of the sand. Christine strained her eyes, deciding instead to go over to it. Madame Giry stayed fixed on the bench. Christine needed to discover this alone, it was hers to find, just as Madame Giry had found it.

The warm breeze passed through her hair, briefly ruffling the edges of her dress. Today the winds bore a mist, and she could nearly taste the saltiness of the water with each breath. The grass was lush on this patch of earth, and the trees were a bit different than those in the rest of the property. Christine wondered why she'd paid them no mind before today.

As she came to the edge of them, she looked past the first two willowy timbers, and could see something in the middle. Perhaps something carved, made out of stone, but she couldn't be certain. As she moved past the first circle of trees, it hit her. Her eyes grew wide, her hand drawing quickly to her quivering lips.

There in the center of this grotto was a statue. A large figure, holding a violin, a small child kneeling at his feet. The statue had been cleaned and polished, and for any unaware eye, one would have guessed it was new…but it was not. She'd laid eyes on it before.

Christine rushed over, kneeling down before it, folding her hands in front of her. "How could he have…where…." Christine began to weep, reaching out to place her hand on the base. Her right hand wandering up to the face, down to the child, her left hand covering her heart. "Father…." Christine gasped. "Father he came…."

Christine rose to her feet, getting closer to hungrily take in every detail. Suddenly she'd moved through space and time. She was a little girl again….her father was just uncovering the statue…a present for her sixth birthday! "We will leave it here by the sea, in our favorite place my child…happy birthday!"

Christine could hear her father's voice in her mind as clearly as if he was standing right next to her. "Now see here, his wings are a bit covered by his commanding cloak, and see here how his mouth is opened as if he's singing, and here how he stands on a collection of music books and sheets, and here, how he's holding your hand?" Christine could see it all again in her mind's eye. Her father had given her the statue as a gift. The full significance not within the comprehension of a six-year olds mind, but she had been in awe of it anyway.

Christine closed her eyes, not wanting to let go of the memories that flooded her now. "He is the angel of music, he will inspire you, lead you down paths to the love of music that is deep inside of you. He will lead you to finding yourself my dear," her father slipped his hand under her chin as he helped her to her feet, embracing her.

Christine found herself wrapping her arms around her middle, rocking back and forth. It seemed far too impossible that he had found this treasure and brought it here for her. How in the world had he found it after all this time? When he was feeling better she would ask him. There was so much about this place she wanted to ask him….so much about him that she wanted to ask. "Patience….patience" she said to herself as she stood wiping the tears from her face.

Madame Giry had sat for nearly a half-hour before Christine reappeared. Her face was damp, but she could see that a smile graced Christine's lips. She smiled too. He had truly loved her all those years, never knowing if she would ever love him in return. That was the essence of the purest form of love; to love…expecting nothing in return.

XXXXX

Nadir didn't even knock. He knew he would be expected. Though time had separated them again and again, their reactions were excruciatingly predictable. He pushed the door open. Erik would be there, face turned away as though he didn't care that someone was entering. It was his way of feigning indifference. Nadir looked up, and as expected, Erik was gazing out the windows on the opposite side of the room. Nadir took his place in the chair, sighing heavily.

"She is beautiful Erik…just as you said." He could hear a muffled "hmmmffff" coming from his friend. "The house is beautiful too." Erik laughed before he could maintain his stoic demeanor. "It is good to hear you laugh again my friend…we heard you earlier when we were out in the…" Erik interrupted "the garden?"

Nadir paused, leaning back into the chair. This was Erik's cue that he was going to be speaking first, Nadir would have his turn, but not until Erik had his. "Do not forget who designed this house my friend…I heard all of your words…out in the garden!" He turned abruptly to look at Nadir. Erik could feel his temper flaring, but he couldn't understand why…Nadir had done nothing.

"Yes, I see. Some of the same old Erik still dwells in you!" Nadir retorted. "Just how did you expect us to get along Erik? You were in no position to introduce us, give us our due…the situation pressed us into relationships with those whose acquaintance we'd not made…but we're no the worse for it!"

"Silence!" Erik bellowed, then his voice retreated. "What have you told her Nadir? What does she know of our time together, how you and I became as you call it…blood brothers? Did you tell her of my time in Persia…of my time with…" Erik could not bear to say the name.

Nadir stood and walked over to Erik. "I'd think after this long while you'd know who your truest friends were Erik…do you not think I've had thousands of opportunities to reveal you even before I met her? If I'd decided to sully your name, I'd have done so when it was most advantageous to me…."

Erik huffed. He new Nadir spoke the truth. "No doubt she asked, and what then did you say to her? She is curious to a fault I'm afraid, she's rather prying." Erik said, a small smirk on his face as he thought of Christine's incessant questioning.

"Yes, you are correct, she asked…in fact she asked several times…but I told her simply that this was for you to explain, that it was not my place. She had to accept that it would remain a mystery until the words came from you."

"And if I'd never woken? What then would you have told her?" Nadir smiled again, sitting down on the edge of Erik's bed. "My friend, I would have told her that which she already knew….that you were a man that loved her….to his dying breath."

Erik reached out and clasped Nadir's hand. Though Erik was weakened, Nadir still grimaced under the crush of his grip. "A true friend you are Nadir….a true friend…."

Nadir rose to embrace him. Erik could rise only so far before the tug about his middle caused him to withdraw in pain. Nadir pulled back, a look of shame washing over him.

"Erik I.." Erik would have none of this. "Nadir, it is in the past. Of any two men that I've known, we are the most skilled at leaving things in the past. Let the issue of this," Erik pointed to his mid-section, "be no different."

Nadir's face was hanging low now. "Nadir, it does neither you nor I any good to wallow in pity. We have much to talk about my friend, let us not begin with a subject we both know would lead to a quarrel. You may recall that I am rather good with my sword!" That made Nadir smirk. Yes, Erik had proved shamelessly, time and again, that he was a better swordsman than Nadir. Nadir never took his defeats gracefully, and that usually ended in a bruised ego and a sweaty brow.

"Erik, I am relieved to find that at least I've not destroyed your distain for the trivialities of apology. I will simply say that I am sorry. I've never been that careless, and I regret having caused you and your wife such pain."

Erik thought about a quick-witted answer, and then bit his tongue thinking better of it. He needed to accept the apology, not for his sake but Nadir's. "Sir, all will be forgiven provided you get me out of this bed and out in the land of the living. I am quite awake now, and quite ready to do something more than reclining!" Nadir laughed again. "Yes my friend….I am quite certain you are."

XXXXXX

Meg was in the parlor, packed bags at her side. The innkeeper had already fetched a hansom for her. She had decided against procuring her usual hansom, in lieu of an earlier departure. The gentleman she saw pulling his carriage along side the inn was decidedly younger than most, and his carriage looked to be new, having had little real use. Meg turned away to bid her innkeeper farewell. Her early leave had caused a bit of confusion, but Meg was of little mind to explain herself. No doubt the gossip from the Starboard would provide all of the necessary answers.

There was a gentle rap at the door. Meg lifted her bags and made her way towards it as the innkeeper opened the door, uttering the customary greeting. Then she stopped as she heard the innkeeper say "but Sir, she is just on her way out, as you can see the hansom is already here."

Meg leaned around the pillar, hoping beyond hope that it was not Raoul. She listened intently, waiting for him to speak again. "My good Sir, I wish to speak to her only briefly, I'll not detain her."

Meg gasped, as the man pushed the innkeeper aside. "Monsieur De Chagny!" "Good my dear, you have not left. May I speak with you?" He turned glancing toward the innkeeper, "privately?" With that the innkeeper disappeared.

He motioned toward a bench near the door, sitting down, Meg reluctantly did the same. "My son has not been himself. You understand that likely better than any other as you were close to her also. I fear that he may have treated you improperly today….would I be safe in making this assumption?" Meg couldn't speak, and he interpreted that as agreement.

"I do not pretend to dismiss his actions, I pray only that this will not influence your mother's decision to return to Paris. You and your mother would be greatly missed." He was searching her face for any glimpse of softening, but it did not betray her. He continued "Raoul has become a bumbling fool, wearing his feelings on his sleeve, saying things that might be misconstrued, misunderstood."

Meg looked at him confused. He shook his head, "Raoul was rather forward with you today. Please except my apology for his improper actions and words." Meg bristled. She recalled feeling uncomfortable as she regained consciousness, but hadn't sensed the slightest bit of impropriety on Raoul's part, although admittedly it had been a bit of a fog.

Raoul's father looked at Meg. "Miss Giry, Raoul's expression of his love for you likely came as a shock, and I dare say he himself did not recall uttering those words, that is how truly sorry he feels for his actions."

"What?" The question slipped from between her lips before she could manage to stop it. Meg was confused. Had she heard correctly?

"Meg," he reached forward toucing her hand, the informality unsettled her, "you know that Raoul is in a rather injured state, his thinking is not clear…" All Meg really could hear is what he had said first….Raoul had professed his love for her?

She stood abruptly. "Monsieur De Chagny, I do not wish to seem ungrateful, or ill mannered." He blinked, he was not accustomed to women exhibiting such forthrightness. "It seems an appropriate amount of space would do well for both Raoul and I. I shall return home, delivering your correspondence to my mother. In a week's time I shall either send her response by messenger, or return it myself personally. Until then, I would prefer to go home. Unescorted."

De Chagny stood, nodding to Meg. "Very well. I shall express your regrets to Raoul and his sister." He put on his hat and moved toward the door. "This is most wise of you young miss. Raoul will no doubt need time to recover as well." He tipped his hat and departed.

Meg leaned heavily against the closed door. The innkeeper appearing from behind the kitchen door, rushed to her side. "Are you alright miss?" Meg nodded. She moved back towards her bags, picking them up going back to the door. "Miss, here, you've dropped this." Meg extended her hand grasping the item he was holding. "Nice young family aren't they?" Meg paled as she realized what it was he was handing her. The picture had fallen out of her skirt and had been lying on the floor! She had to get back home….time was of the essence!

Author's notes:

You are all very clever indeed…but one never REALLY knows what is going to happen… Oh, and thank you about the heads up of the chapters appearing in the wrong order…don't know what happened there, but I'll fix it!

**Captain Oblivious**: Somehow, I feel like we may have met in a previous life…not that I believe in previous lives mind you! You will love Dracula….it really is some of Gerry's best work prior to POTO. I had to get it because Joel Schumaker said that it was this movie that he saw that led him to Gerard for the lead role in POTO! So….alas…it was destined to be. I must say though, the older this man gets….well…let's just say he's aging like a fine bottle of vintage…a very fine bottle of vintage! O.k., I've lost myself again! Yes, poor Erik, he pushed the envelope too far when he came out of hiding and took Christine back with him into his hermetically sealed world of darkness and mystery. Once that barrier was broken, all He broke loose! Something like a single fragmented germ that destroys an entire system….(hope you've seen War of The Worlds, or that won't even make sense to you!) Have a great day! Hope you enjoy the next installment.

**Crayann:** Thank you for your sincere compliment. I have so enjoyed writing this. Sometimes I worry that there is a lull in the story, or that it becomes far too detailed. I'm glad you're sticking with it. Yes, Meg and Raoul….the world has been far to cruel to even the pampered prince. For all the money that he has, the one thing he desired most was love. Funny how he and Erik both wanted the same thing…and they came from two such opposite ends of the spectrum. It gets down to basic human need. In that arena, we all share one level playing field. The deep need to be needed and loved…those two men both wanted it, and with any smile of fortune, they should get their due! Hope you enjoy the next chapters. Buckle your seat belts though, there is a wild ride ahead!

**Pertie:** Thank you for the compliments. I wish to please my readers, and your encouraging words help me to stay on the right track! I think you'll enjoy the next chapters, though I doubt they'll reveal much more about where this is all headed…

**PhantomFan13**: You are right, somehow the chapters got a bit turned around. I hope to have that fixed today. Thank you for your review. But I must warn you, assumptions are dangerous beasts…they can lead us in the wrong direction…. Hope you enjoy the next chapters!

**Diveprincess**: The Bahamas…..hmmmm….explains in part your choice of tag names. If, by some miracle, you read this before you go…please have a Mai Tai for me when you are on the beach soaking up the glistening turquoise waters….maybe think about how Erik would have longed to take Christine there on a honeymoon….oh how sweet that would be! Have a wonderful time!

**Stormyrainedoncowgirl**: You are most welcome! I've been thinking a little about that tag name of yours…I have someone that is close to me whose tag name is Rainy, her real name is Misty…so if relative words are any clue, perhaps you are either a rope slinging (in which case Erik would love you) meteorologist, or you just love horses (which would make you a friend of Nadir who is a horse whisperer). Either way, you fit into the family nicely! Thanks for the review. I hope you enjoy the updates. Better get a good grip on the straps of your saddle, it is going to get a little "interesting!"


	73. Torment of the worst kind

**Chapter 73 Torment of the worst kind**

Meg's face was warm from the late afternoon sun that shown in through the carriage window. She'd nearly fallen asleep a half-dozen times in her trip to the first house. She had no idea if she would be able to fetch another hansom before nightfall, and had settled in her mind that she would have to explore the abandoned farm, hoping some sort of accommodations could be made for the evening. She was dropped here by the hansom every time she visited Paris, so it wouldn't be anything suspicious if Monsieur De Chagny inquired.

She'd not worried about supper. The innkeeper had sent her off with a rather hardy lunch, and it would be more than enough for several meals. She was set for the evening.

Meg's thoughts raced back and forth, traveling as a spider through the intricate webs in her mind. She felt desperate. She felt confused. She felt like her world had been turned upside down, and was spinning, threatening to tumble off its axis into a dark abyss.

Meg had no want to hurt Christine. No desire to cause Erik pain. What would they think of such news? She drew the picture from her pocket, pulling it close to her face, examining each inch of it. "It looks just like him," she muttered to herself. The more she tried to find dissimilarities, the more pronounced the similarities became. The same dark hair. The same stance of his frame. The frown…..it was almost eerie as her mind's-eye flashed between the two men…they were almost…..identical. The shape of their eyes, the turn of their lips. How could this have gone unnoticed? Perhaps De Chagny's age and grey temples, along with his ruddy complexion from years of hard drinking and the cigars he couldn't quite give up, had altered him. Meg couldn't shake the images from her memory. The sheer idea of it seemed all but preposterous. She toyed with the dilemma…if Erik never woke, would it even be worth telling anyone? Would it be better if this were all kept a secret until if or when his condition changed?

Meg jerked back to reality as the carriage slowed as it entered the town. She'd have plenty of time to ponder. A large old house alone was hardly good for anything else. She'd have to be her own company for the night.

The driver, although new, no doubt had been trained well. He escorted her out of the carriage as a lady should be. "May I help you in with the bags mam?" He was curiously scanning the property. Yes, the lawn was cared for, but hardly the manicured perfection that was proper in those days.

"Thank you, I'll be just fine taking them in on my own." Meg smiled politely. "My name is Ronaldo young miss, if ever you are in Paris again, and in need of service, you may contact the concierge at the Starboard, they are able to reach me." Meg smiled, reaching into her pocket to pay her fare. "No need mam, Monsieur DeChagny has already taken care of this." Meg smiled again. "Thank you. Good afternoon to you then."

She turned and moved up the sidewalk. She felt a bit uncomfortable as the carriage did not pull away, nor did she hear any evidence that the hansom had moved toward it. Upon reaching the house she turned to see Ronaldo staring at her. Noticing her glance he turned abruptly and mounted the carriage, and was off.

Meg pushed open the heavy front door, entering and quickly closing and latching it behind her. She began to wander through the house. All the furnishings covered in heavy canvas. There were five bedrooms, a master suite, servant's quarters, a large sunroom facing out over a large flower garden in the back. A full kitchen, sparse dishes, and a few other amenities. Perhaps the house had been occupied, but it was obvious, that if it had been, it was not recently. Meg had never really questioned it.

Meg settled on the room with lavender wallpaper. It had a large four-poster bed, and a lovely window seat. The water closet was just outside of the room, a comfort to her since she'd be alone for the evening. Really, she tried to calm herself, it should be quite safe, no one would know she was there. In the morning she would take the short walk into town and fetch a hansom. She could have done so before the afternoon was out, but decided a night alone to clear her head….sort things out, would be good for her. She needed to make some decisions, and it was always best if they were slept on before executed.

Meg uncovered the bed, finding it was fully made, fine silk duvet, lavender sheets, plump pillows. "Why would he go to all of this trouble and not stay here?" Meg wondered to herself. She couldn't begin to imagine or understand all of Erik's eccentricities, there were far to many, and he was far too complex and private to be analyzed. The window seat became the supper table for Meg. Taking supper in an empty dining room seemed far too distressing in a house as large as this one.

Meg found her mind wandering once again to the subjects that would not leave her. "How can I tell Christine…show Christine this picture?" She fumbled with it in her hands, looking down at Raoul's father, but seeing another man. It could not be a coincidence, it was simply too obvious to deny.

Meg swallowed her bite of sandwich, taking a sip from the jar of water. "They look so much alike…it was simply undeniable." Meg shook her head. Though this issue plagued her, another burned still deeper in her. The words of Raoul's father resonating in her mind. "He professed his love for you…..injured state….didn't remember saying those words to you…." Meg only wished she could remember it! Immediately she blushed. Yet there was no one in the house, she felt embarrassed by her feelings. How long would she have to deny her feelings…her obvious attraction to a man who was most decidedly single? She shook her head, frustrated by her own thoughts. He still pined for Christine; that was all she really needed to know.

Meg stood, putting away the rest of her supper; she'd lost her appetite. She planned to go outside to enjoy the sunset, but then thought better of it. The less observable activity, the safer she would be. She wandered back down to the sunroom. True, the view wouldn't be as good here, as it was designed to take benefit of the rising not the setting of the sun, but it still provided vast windows were she could enjoy the night sky as the day drew to a close. She uncovered a lounge and plopped down in it in a rather unladylike fashion. Manners were of little matter when one was alone.

She had brought her writing book and instruments with her. Perhaps putting some of her thoughts on paper would help clear her mind. She settled in and began to write, tears rolling down her cheeks as she recounted the events of the day. She loved Christine…she appreciated Erik…but now Raoul….what to make of him…..

XXXXX

Christine and Madame Giry had taken lunch and supper alone. Nadir had sat with Erik all afternoon, and now as they had finished dinner, they could smell the smoke from the pipe tobacco that Nadir was so fond of, wafting out of the room above the garden. "It is probably best my dear. He needed to talk to an old friend. Nadir has always had a good affect on him, and I have no doubt that today's visit will be the same." Madame Giry laughed, "in fact, I'm quite sure of it. Had it not gone well, Erik would have expelled Nadir from the room hours ago!"

Christine smiled at Madame Giry, but underneath, she was nervous. The longer they were apart, the stronger the urge to run back to him became. She needed to know that he was not angry with her for what she had done. That he would forgive her for allowing the surgeon to do what he had. That he did not think she had done it for her sake; that she loved him just as he had been before.

"Christine…Christine….!" Madame Giry had reached out to touch her shoulder, drawing her back from her thoughts. "Forgive me, I cannot help but…" Madame Giry shook her head. She reached out and took Christine's other shoulder, turning her to face the house.

Instantly her heart leapt for joy. Nadir was strolling towards them, his "patient" in a chair with wheels underneath. Christine gasped. It had been months since she'd seen Erik dressed in his classic white shirt, and dark smoking jacket. Aside from the obvious inconvenience of the chair that was his temporary mobility, he looked every bit the gentleman. Her mind played tricks on her as the evening shadows crossed over the lawn. For a brief moment she thought she saw a mask covering one side of his face. She blinked several times, and as they came closer, she realized he had simply been resting his head in his hand, the white cuff of his sleeve, obscuring her view. She stood patiently by Madame Giry's side, as though they had anticipated Nadir and Erik's arrival in the garden.

"A nice evening for a stroll among the flowers!" Nadir proclaimed as he pushed the chair next to the benches at the center of the garden just shy of where Madame Giry and Christine now stood. "Indeed it is," Madame Giry said as she walked over to join Nadir on the bench.

Christine could feel Erik's gaze upon her. It was as burning and intense as the mid-day sun. She could barely look up from the ground, afraid that he would be angry. She swallowed, surely he would not embarrass her in the company of Nadir and Madame Giry…this was as secure a collection of people as she could have hoped for. She glanced up at Erik, his eyes did not move; they drew her to him.

As she sat on the bench next to his chair, she reached over, hoping only that he wouldn't reject her advances, placing her hand over his in his lap. Her heart melted as she felt his hands warmly wrapping around hers, tenderly caressing it. Tears welled up in her eyes, spilling over her lids and down her cheeks before she could stop them. "Shhhh…" came his calming voice, no hint of malice or scorn in his tone.

"Nadir, have I ever showed you the fine orchids by the fence, they are most unusual, some are double blooms, a rare treat indeed." Madame Giry sounding quite genuine, although her intentions were transparent. "Why no, I don't recall every seeing a double orchid, come, do show me." Nadir and Madame Giry rose walking away as if they'd been the only two people present for the exchange.

"Christine, I hope you do not mind," Erik began, "but I've shared our news with Nadir. He is the closest thing I've ever had to a brother, and I know he will keep it in his confidences until we are ready." Christine smiled. This was going to be a normal conversation, and it had been a long while since they'd had one of those.

"He will be quite the dotting uncle I'm afraid, we might have difficulty seeing our own child once it arrives!" Christine smiled even wider, as she finally had the courage to look up at Erik. Even now it still startled her to see an entire face. When he was at rest, it had looked almost artificial, but now, having animation, it was quite real, and that was unsettling even for her. He was treacherously hansom, his eyes like molten pools of gravity that could have attracted the most reticent creature.

Christine smiled, squeezing her hand against Erik's palm. "No doubt the child will be loved by many, a fortunate young lad he will be indeed!" she said. Erik smiled at Christine "and if it is a daughter that graces our family first, what then?" Erik asked as he looked down. He continued, "I've been dreaming Christine….dreaming of a daughter…she is the very image of you, dark flowing locks, soft eyes, and the voice of an angel…." He trailed off. "She rather likes riding on my shoulders as we walk along the beach as the sun sets, or running through the tide as it moves in…." He smiled, a distant look on his face as though he was peering through a fog into the future, and it brought him such unparalleled joy. "The dream was so real, it simply repeated itself over and over again."

"Nadir told me that you could hear me!" Erik turned his head inquisitively "whatever do you mean?" Christine settled closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder, slipping both hands into his lap, winding her fingers through his hands mindlessly. "When you slept I talked…sometimes incessantly. Each morning during your bath, I'd tell you of my dreams from the previous night. Something about that particular dream seemed to calm you. It was as if you could hear me and responded with your silence like a child does that is enchanted with a story. Though your body slept, it was your mind that refused to give way, though it could not communicate with the outside world." Christine paused, breathing deeply, "it was this that gave me hope that you would come back to us."

Erik sighed, a cough rising from his lungs. He held his bandaged side as he allowed his reflexes to take over. Coughing was good he reminded himself of what the physician had said. It would make him stronger.

Madame Giry and Nadir glanced back out of concern for the wretched wheezing that came from Erik, fighting the urge to rush to him like an invalid. Short of being unconscious, they knew Erik would have none of the infernal codling that they'd been able to do while he slept.

Soon the coughing fit subsided, and a maid appeared with a fresh pitcher of lemon water, and a bit of honey to soothe his raspy throat. Christine nodded, and the maid disappeared. She didn't mind the help, but caring for Erik was hers to do, and hers alone. She wanted to be able to help him every step of the way. He'd been there for her in so many ways….she had much to repay.

"Now what did you and Nadir visit about all afternoon that was so much more important than joining the ladies in your life for lunch?" Christine said, as she filled the silver spoon with a full serving of the sticky amber liquid, resting it slightly above Erik's lips. Erik gave her a disapproving look before realizing she would not relent. He opened his mouth obediently as she slid the spoon in. He closed his lips around it, sliding his tongue along the rim as she slid the spoon back out. Something about this stirred her, and she leaned tenderly kissing him. The taste of honey on his lips, the caress of her tongue as she glided it along his lower lip. Erik shuddered.

Christine at once felt a flush of crimson on her cheeks. "I am sorry Erik, I simply, it was…I didn't think before…" She was flustered. Erik blinked his eyes several times. It had been a painful embarrassment last night, that he could not even embrace his wife, and now, in that moment, she tormented them both. "Christine…" was all he could say.

"Erik, please let me….I am…." she stammered. "I love you!" Christine put her head again on Erik's shoulder, hoping that he would understand. Erik let out a staggered breath, "do not worry my dear…at least we are certain that our passions have not died while I slept." Erik tried to comfort her, making Christine smile. He was always trying to be considerate of her feelings, no matter the pain or discomfort it caused him.

"Now my dear husband, do tell, what else did you dream of during your sleep?" Erik smiled, resting his head on hers as they watched the sun set. "I'd be most inclined to explain them to you, but I fear that you may already know them, as they were most likely your dreams before they were mine!" The pair laughed.

Off in the distance Nadir said to Madame Giry, "it is good to hear them laugh, quite good indeed." Nadir smiled at Madame Giry as he reached out placing his hand over hers on the fence.

XXXXX

Meg had faded off into sleep, papers in her lap fluttering in the breeze, the ink of her pen now staining her dress as it laid carelessly at her side. She was startled awake by a loud thud. She sat straight up, blinking fiercely trying to focus her eyes. The sun was not yet completely set, but the shadows were crossing over on the lawn, the trees casting eerie images across the house. Perhaps it had been her imagination, after all, no one knew that she was there.

Meg slid her legs off of the lounge and stood. She began straightening the papers that had fallen to the floor. She noticed the large stain of ink on her dress by the pocket, and looked down at the pen that had rolled to the middle of the chair. "Blast!" At least it was one of her older dresses. Perhaps part of the fabric could be removed and replaced.

She lifted her head looking toward the door to the hallway, her breath caught in her chest. It must have been her imagination, she thought she had seen something move in the shadow. She shook her head "I'm giving myself such a fright, and for no good reason," she thought as she went to the door and opened it, walking into the decidedly warmer hallway. The air was stale. A house shut up for months had a special kind of heaviness that seemed to hang in the air, having no escape.

The hall was dark as she made her way back to her room. She found the kerosene lantern that hung in the corner, hoping that it still contained fuel to light. She shrugged as she thought of how careless it was that she hadn't checked that before. It would be nearly impossible to find her way around the house without it, and who knew if or where a cache of candles would be kept. She held up the match to the wick, but it did not light. Carefully pulling down the lantern, she could tell by the weight of it, that it contained no oil.

She plopped down onto the bed. Where would she begin to look in this big old house? "The dining room!" she said. At least she could feel her way back down the hallway to the staircase. The dining room was just off of the foyer and she was convinced she could find her way without killing herself.

She moved quietly down the stairs, though there was little need to do so. Perhaps it was her training as a ballerina that made her so, but it came as an almost involuntary reflex. If she traveled, she did so with grace and elegance, or not at all. Once at the bottom of the stairs she looked over toward the door. She thought she had latched it securely when she came in, and yet now it looked to be ajar. She felt a chilly shiver run up her back as she focused in the darkness at the latch on the door…it was indeed undone.

She jerked to her side, as she heard another thud, the same as the sound before, it had not been her imagination! Meg moved quickly but as quietly as a butterfly in an afternoon breeze. She found her hand on the long stem of the poker from the fireplace in the dining room. Perhaps it was an animal, a stray dog or cat, having smelled the food, come looking for scraps. She shook her head again at the irrational thought, an animal cannot unlatch a door!

She tried to calm herself, but her trembling hands, and racing heart made her feel faint. She heard it again, shuffling of feet…yes most decidedly feet. She drew in a deep breath, pushing her body rigidly against the wall as she realized that whoever it was, they were only feet from her. In the shadows she could barely make out the frame of the person. It was crouched, trying to take advantage of the darkness of the shadows. It moved slowly passed her down the hall and toward the stairs. It carried no weapon, but had a rope and strips of cloth in its hands. Meg thought if it had been a robber, he surely would have spent his time in the silver closet, or at the very least, taken paintings off the walls, or items from the library.

Meg felt herself going weak at the knees. She was holding her breath hoping only to wait until it mounted the stairs before exhaling. The person, all dressed in black, moved painfully slow, attempting to make no sound. It was both terrifying and intriguing to observe someone who thought they were moving without the knowledge of another. In spite of her best attempts to wait, Meg gasped, lurching forward, grabbing the side of the table in the foyer.

Hearing the sound, the man stood to full height and rushed back down the stairs. Meg was able only to let out one shrill scream before he descended upon her. As he grabbed at her violently she thrashed about like an animal in a trap. She clawed at his face, feeling flesh under her nails as he shrieked in pain.

Meg managed to get free by kicking him hard in the shin with her heel, and he dropped her. She ran for the front door, reaching out she grabbed the handle. As she did she heard an angered growl come from behind her as the man grabbed her around the waist with his hands, pulling her down onto the floor. Through the open door Meg could see out into the blackness. Though she knew that no one could hear her, she cried out in fear anyway as the man dragged her by her feet back toward the dark recesses of the kitchen.

The last thing Meg saw was the face of the man, contorted and filled with anger, several large gashes where her nails had done their carving in his flesh. He reached up, wiping the blood from his face, and looked back at her. "Now you'll pay for this…flesh for flesh…as he back handed her across the face. The room spun and went black.


	74. Wounds of the flesh and mind

Chapter 74 Wounds of the flesh and mind 

Christine sat straight up in bed gasping "something is wrong…something is terribly wrong!" She looked over at Erik, reaching out she touched him. His chest rising and sinking predictably for a man who was fast asleep. Christine's face was wet with sweat, she'd been having a terrible dream. It was so real. A woman was screaming, an angry man in a cape was looming over her, he had a rope in his hand….more screaming….and everything went black. For all the terror of it…it was the blackness that frightened her the most.

She slipped her feet to the side of the bed, and slowly crept from beneath the covers so as not to disturb Erik. No doubt the medicine that the doctor instructed that she give him each night before retiring contained some sort of sleeping agent, as Erik was always sound asleep long before she.

Christine stood looking out the window. The breeze was not as strong tonight as it had been, but the gentle wind quickly cooled and dried the sweat. She was wide-awake now, but something deep inside of her sensed danger, tragedy, terror. It was a deep dread that she'd felt only once before and that was before her father died. She closed her eyes. She could see ripping fabric, thrashing limbs, muffled screams through a mouth gagged with cloth. She shook her head. It had been a long while since she'd had a nightmare, and she hoped it would be a long time again.

She stood several minutes just staring out into the night sky. The waves of the sea lapped along the shoreline rhythmically almost as a soft lullaby putting her in the mood for sleep. She climbed back on the bed, and beneath the sheets. She nuzzled in by Erik's side, softly caressing his back. In the moonlit room she could make out the outline of his face. The one that was facing her was the one that had been masked. In the darkness, she could see none of the stitches or changes the surgeon had made, only the strong jaw, closed eyelid, and perfectly shaped lips that seemed to curve up ever so slightly whenever she touched him. He was alright, she was alright, yet something inside of her would not be silenced.

She closed her eyes once more, fighting for sleep. As she slipped back into the netherworlds of her dreams, the thrashing came back to her, the face, she could almost make out the outline of the woman's face, limbs and fabric blocked her view. A sudden shriek, and the man withdrew just enough for Christine to see the blonde curls…..and the look of sheer horror on a face that she knew well…."MEG!"

Christine sat straight up again, rising from her bed without thought. She ran from her room, down the hall to Madame Giry's. Perhaps it was nothing more than a nightmare…indeed Meg would be safe at the Inn in Paris….but the feeling was too strong to ignore.

"Madame Giry…" she shook the poor woman awake, "whatever is it child…is Erik alright?" She stood, quickly fastening her robe around her. "No" Christine said, nearly panting now, "it's Meg, I think something terrible has happened to Meg!" Madame Giry's hands flew to her face, all color draining from it as surely as if a thousand leeches had been wrapped round her ankles. "Meg? No…." Christine helped her to the side of her bed. "Mother, I know it seems most improbable, but I've never had a dream, nay, a vision as strong as this one. It was Meg, she was in a house, a man was over her, there was blood, thrashing limbs." Christine collapsed into Madame Giry's arms.

"Now my dear, we must be rational." Madame Giry said, trying to calm herself and Christine. "Meg is due to stay in Paris for another four days, she should be most safe staying at the Inn, she's stayed there before without incident, and…" Christine interrupted. "No, no….this wasn't the inn, at least not the way Meg described it. There were many pieces of canvas, covering lumps, perhaps furniture, a piano…I am not certain, but there was little light, and I had a sense it was the two of them alone."

Christine's eyes were wild with grief, "I know in my heart that something is wrong, it woke me out of the dead of sleep." Madame Giry placed a reassuring hand on Christine's shoulder. "Child, try to calm down….if not for your own sake, for that of your child!" Christine tried to shallow her breathing, she was far too distraught, and she knew Madame Giry was right.

"Mother, please. Let us send a messenger to Meg. Perhaps it was a premonition, she should not travel home alone. Perhaps we could send someone to be waiting for her at the Inn to accompany her on her return journey. Something, anything."

There was a knock at the door. "Is everything alright?" It was Nadir. "I heard raised voices, it isn't Erik is it?" Madame Giry reached over, handing Christine a blanket to cover herself. She walked over to the door and let Nadir in. Christine looked at him wide-eyed. She was sorry that she'd woken him, and felt a bit foolish, but the feeling would not subside.

"Tell Nadir what you have told me, perhaps he can offer you some advice. I'll go to make us some tea." Madame Giry walked out of the room closing the door behind her.

"Now my dear, what is all of this? A woman in your condition should be most careful, you need your rest!" "Nadir, let me tell you of my dream…" Christine carefully explained each detail. Nadir sat rubbing his chin. "My dear, I am a believer in dreams, they often visit us to warn us of things that are to come, or guide us in some way. A dream this strong should not be ignored. In the morning I will fetch a messenger to go to Paris, and I'll explain…." Nadir went silent. That unnerved Christine again. "What….what is it?" Nadir swallowed, looking down at the floor and back up at Christine.

"Did you say that the objects in your dream were covered in large pieces of canvas?" "Yes" Christine replied. "Did you say that the room was dark, but you could see a piano, and it too was covered in canvas? Pictures of you on the wall? A bust of Beethoven on the mantel?" "Yes, yes, but why do you ask?" "And the room, it was as dark as it is now?" "Yes, Yes, Nadir, tell me what you are thinking, I implore you!"

Nadir stood, moving quickly to the door. "My dear, you are describing the winter house." "The winter house?" "Yes, the winter house, the one where this household is moved when it becomes too stormy and cold to stay here. It is the one where we deposit Meg for the carriages from Paris to retrieve her. It is several hours from here." Nadir was fastening up the laces on his shirt, and tightening the buttons on his jacket.

"Nadir, what are you saying?" "My dear Christine, have you ever been to the winter house?" He looked at her fully knowing the answer. "No, of course not, you've been with me ever since we left your sister's Inn!" "Then do explain how you perfectly described to me the contents of the parlor of the winter house….if it were not a premonition, or a vision…you couldn't have possibly known those things. I'll leave at once. If it is a false alarm, I'll have had a moonlit ride, and be none the worse for it. Something this powerful, this specific cannot be ignored!"

Nadir stood moving toward the door. He passed Madame Giry as she was coming back in. His rushed demeanor startling her. "I'll be back at first light, Christine will explain everything to you." He reached out placing a passing kiss on Madame Giry's cheek, and rushed down the stairs.

Madame Giry stood in the doorway, confused, frightened, and flustered by his actions. She came in and sat on the bed across from Christine. "What has happened Christine?" a flash of fear crossing her face.

"He's gone to the winter house….he thinks I've had a premonition…." Madame Giry raised her hand to her face to cover her mouth. She gasped, and then relaxed her shoulders. She breathed slowly before she spoke. "I'm certain that it was a bad dream Christine. Meg is probably sound asleep in her bed at the Inn. Though I will feel better when Nadir returns. We no doubt will have a story to tell later about this!"

Madame Giry drew Christine to her, resting her head on her chest. "It is alright my dear, it will be alright." Christine was not comforted, but somehow felt better knowing Nadir was on his way.

Nadir was in the saddle of Erik's horse. Yes, truly he was not as familiar with the beast, but knew of its speed and strength, precisely why Erik had chosen it. The stable boy fastened provisions for the horse in the saddlebags, and Nadir was off. He'd left instructions that if he did not return by dawn, to send the stable master and several of the gardeners to retrieve him.

Nadir knew the path well, for it was he that brought Meg back and forth, feeling much safer that he could both protect and coach her along the way. The night was cold, but not strikingly so, making the trip much less a strain. Nadir knew he was pushing the beast for all it was worth, but every minute that passed, the deeper the dread sunk into him. "How could Christine have known? She had described the paintings, the situation of the room, the piano, the canvas coverings, the staircase, even the color of the walls!" Something was dreadfully wrong, Nadir could feel it in his gut.

He'd met several others in his travels that had the ability to predict the future, or to see into the past…it was both a gift and a curse, for it haunted the possessor. He hoped that Christine's was of foreboding, rather than visions of the past….or it may already be too late to intervene. A chill ran up Nadir's spine, as he pushed on through the woods. He hoped that the wolves had not moved from their usual hunting grounds, for another encounter would be most unwelcome. He drew his cloak in tightly around him, head down, giving the horse two swift jabs. He'd push through as quickly as the beast would carry him.

**Author's Notes:**

**Captain Oblivious**: Yes, my reference was not lost! ' War of the Worlds', I agree was good, but I didn't care for the ending myself. I felt a bit cheated. Too bad they didn't take some creative liberties to dress up the ending of the original. Haaa…that's kind of ironic, since here we are altering the ending to Gaston Leroux's work! Anyway, I agree.

Oh, I've seen 'Batman Begins'…..three times! Of course, then I promptly had to hop on Amazon and purchase 'Reign of Fire', because both Bale and Butler are in that movie! It was odd really to see them on screen together as best friends…it would be rather interesting to parlay that into a story…Bale becomes Batman….and through the fire Butler becomes disfigured and becomes the Phantom…although some serious time travel would be necessary to accomplish this. Yikes, my mind is spinning out of control! If you haven't seen it yet, rent it. I didn't like Matthew MCConnahey (spelling?) in it. He was rather yucky. Can't wait to see Depp in Wonka, he is such a dark performer too…I think I have a thing for the dark brooding type. Oh well, somebody's gotta love em! Haven't seen Cinderella Man yet, but I just might have to get there to see that this weekend!

O.k., Back to the story. Yes, it is sweet that he found that statute for her. He is a true obsessive, so I thought this very in-character for him. He loved her so deeply that if he couldn't have HER, he would embody her, surrounding himself with all the things that she loved. That is why his triumph of her returning his love is so very sweet. He was like the plant in the dessert that is near it's end, that had been dreaming, hoping, pleading for a drink, when a sudden unexpected cloud passes over, dropping a relieving rain on it, and a bolt of lightening that unearths a small natural spring to ensure it will be fed for years to come. Darn, now I've gone and made myself cry, and made myself thirsty…off to get some tea! Hope you enjoy the next chapters! I was scared the whole time I was writing them!

**Waytoointoerik**: Thank you for your compliment. I love the twist too! Sometimes I just shudder when they come to me and I can hardly wait to get them typed up and into the story. So much is happening, it makes my skin tingle! Hope you don't want to shoot me because of this cliffe….hope you enjoy the chapters!


	75. Strange Savior

Chapter 75 Strange savior 

Meg blinked, she could see nothing but blackness. A gasp rose from her chest. She quickly brought her hands to her mouth…the gag was gone. She moved her hands over her mid section. Her dress was in shreds, her corset torn nearly from stem to stern. Her arms ached, and as she ran her hand over the flesh of them she could feel a dry sticky surface, dotted by jagged skin that had been broken. She pulled her hands up to her head, her hair was in knots, the ribbon gone. Her hands wandered to her face. She could feel swelling around her lips, and a gash along her right cheek. Meg closed her eyes in disbelief. "Had she been left for dead?" Her entire body now screaming but she was afraid to move. What if he was still there, lurking in the corners, waiting for her to regain consciousness only to start the vicious game all over again?

Meg laid silently, her swollen lips trembling. She had to think, think, think…. Meg froze. She heard footsteps. She wasn't even sure she knew where she was. She thought she was still in the house, but it wasn't as though she'd had much time to study it…she could have been anywhere. Meg closed her eyes as tightly as she could, trying to think of a way to calm herself so she would appear lifeless but it was of no use.

The steps moved closer, and she heard him set something that sounded like a bowl down beside her head. She listened as he dipped an object into the water, and began to wring it out. Meg wanted to scream, but she could not even breathe. She felt the cool of a damp cloth running across her forehead, and down her cheek. He dipped the cloth again, wringing it out, washing her entire face, gently going over the parts that were swollen. These were not the hands of the man that had preyed upon her earlier, they were gentle and compassionate…she had to look.

When she heard him dipping the cloth yet again she opened her eyes ever so slightly trying to make out the image that was on the floor beside her. She saw his frame, he was on his knees. He wore a high collared jacket, and his hair was pulled back. Meg closed her eyes again as he began to wash her chin, and carefully down her neck, pausing on a spot that had been particularly sticky. He rubbed it gently mumbling something under his breath. Meg felt her pulse quicken. She waited until he shifted his weight to dip the cloth again and she forced her eyes open as far as the swelling would let her. As he turned, pulling his face closer to focus on the spot on her neck, he startled as he realized she was staring up at him.

"Meg!" She let out a sob. He quickly pulled her up into his arms, holding her close to him, his face buried in her neck. "I am so sorry Meg, I should have been here sooner, if only I'd been here sooner…" his voice trailed off. Meg was crying. Both from the pain she felt, and from the relief that she was safe, she was in his arms, and she felt safe.

"Meg, I am sorry for what happened today. I've been a bumbling fool, I've only managed to further the grief that we feel. Because of my carelessness you felt you had to flee Paris much too soon…it is my fault that you've found yourself here tonight, I pray that you will forgive me Meg…forgive me for all of it!"

Meg wrapped her arms around his middle. She tried to form words to speak to him, but none would come, tears dominated her, and she could not prevail. "You are safe now Meg, safe now…" He pulled her up to a sitting position, cradling her in his arms. Meg looked around the room, ghastly shadows of torn bits of fabric, a shoe, chairs knocked over, canvas on the floor spattered with what she could only assume was blood. Her eyes stopped in their tracks. A crumpled huddle lay across the room on the floor. Meg could make out the sole of a boot, and two feet twisted in quite unnatural directions.

"What happened?" Meg asked in a strained voice. He took in a deep breath, leaning his back against the piano. "Meg I am sorry. I waited too long to come after you. After you'd gone today, I thought long and hard about all that had happened. I had embarrassed you, and myself by my actions, and thought perhaps it was best that I let you go back to your mother. Yet as the afternoon wore on, I couldn't rid my mind of my guilt. I knew that Mr. Firmin had your address in his office, and it burned in me until I went to him to retrieve it." He paused, dipping the cloth again into the water, reaching out and taking her arm into his hand. The distraction seeming to ease the tension of the conversation.

He continued, "an apology by messenger, or by letter, would not do, such an apology should be delivered in person. It was early evening when I left Paris, and I only hoped that I would be able to visit with you before you retired for the evening." He stopped, the next words coming with much difficulty. "When I…when I arrived here, I could see from a distance that the house was dark. I was afraid everyone had gone to bed, and I'd have to wait until morning. I was turning my horse around to head into the town, when I heard a faint scream, and the door open. I rushed in but not before he'd had a chance to…a chance to…Meg I am sorry. Had I been here earlier I would have been with you, perhaps prevented you from coming to any harm…" his voice broke off.

Meg looked over at the lump on the floor. She swallowed hard, she had to ask. "And what of him?" "I don't know who he is Meg, I just know that he was standing over your still form when I made my way in the door. I surprised him, so the defeat was sure and swift."

Meg looked away. She could not believe where she found herself now. She was grateful that she was alive, that he'd come for her, that he'd been there when she needed someone most. Though his arms were foreign, she felt at home there, an odd sort of comfort.

"Now Meg, I am no physician, but I know that we must clean these wounds before infection sets in. I have many questions for you, most specifically why there is no one else here, why all things look to be as if they've not been used in years. But the questions will wait, let us tend to your injuries first, we will have plenty of time to talk later."

Raoul helped Meg to her feet. She felt a bit shaky, but was able to stand on her own. She looked down at her dress, all tattered and torn. She was more exposed in front of a man than she'd ever been, but knew that he would be ever the gentleman as he helped her. The items had to come off, she needed to be washed, her cuts and bruises inspected.

"Meg, I'll retrieve your bag for you, if you can tell me where it is, and if you feel comfortable alone for a moment. Meg shook her head yes, "it is at the top of the stairs, the third door on the left. The bags are at the end of the bed."

"I'll be back in a moment, rest here dear Meg." He pulled out a chair from the dining room table, and assisted her into it. He departed up the stairs swiftly. Meg could hear his footsteps on the floor above her as he moved. She looked over curiously at the lump on the floor. She had to know.

She stood, the pain in her head, her swollen cheek, and her bruising limbs all crying out, as she moved across the floor toward the corpse. In the dark it was hard to see much detail, but as she came closer, some things betrayed the man's identity. The long waistcoat, the black gloves. His face was bruised too, but it was the sword that still remained in his mid-section that explained his final demise. Meg reached down, turning the head of the man to find that it was Ronaldo. Meg was horrified.

In her haste to leave, she'd instructed the innkeeper to fetch a hansom. He'd picked him at random at the Starboard. His suave fashion, and gleaming carriage had not betrayed his intentions, nor the ensuing treachery he intended to wage. Meg found herself backing away from the body. She'd been unconscious. There was no way to know what that man had done to her aside from the obvious injury of the flesh. She could only hope that a physician would be able to help her heal all the wounds she had suffered, both those seen, and those that would remain in the deep recesses of her mind.

Meg heard footsteps behind her. She was still jumpy, but knew that they were those of her friend returning. "I hope that this is suitable. He held in his hand a loose summer nightgown. It was one that Meg wore on the hottest of nights. It would provide easy access to her arms and lower extremities so that they could be inspected with the greatest amount of modesty.

"Meg, I'll move into the other room if you would like to change, then we will tend to cleaning the wounds." Meg looked down and thanked him. He moved out into the kitchen as Meg went about tearing the remaining threads that held together the corset. She let it fall to the floor. The dress that hung around her neck was quickly abandoned as well. Meg was afraid, but she reached down slowly. The soft fabric of her bloomers met her hands, and she at once released a sigh. That vile thing had been stopped just short of his intentions. She shuddered, who knows what might have happened to her had he not been interrupted.

Meg slipped into her nightgown and moved to the diningroom. "I am finished." He turned to face her once more and his breath caught in his chest. Meg's face was swollen, her arms were still bloodied, and her hair in disarray, yet she was beautiful in the pale moonlight. He'd not had that thought about another woman in a great many months, and at first he felt guilty, and then an odd sort of warmth as he moved toward her.

"My dearest Meg, I am sorry you've been through this, he said as he wrapped his arms around her, resting her head on his chest. Meg didn't know what she should do, but instead of thinking, she wrapped her arms around him and did the only thing she could and that was thank him.

"Thank you Raoul, for being here. Who knows what might have happened had you not come. Thank you Raoul…thank you." Her voice trailed off. They stood there holding one another in the empty house, a dead man laying a few yards lengths away.

XXXXX

Nadir was on the final leg of his journey. So far it had been uneventful. The horse having not been ridden hard for quite some time, seemed to enjoy the full gallop that Nadir had been demanding from it. The eastern sky was still black, Nadir guessed it to be about two o'clock in the morning. He'd not passed a single soul on his journey. There was something soothingly placid about the solitary road.

His mind wandered to the long visit that he'd had with Erik that afternoon. Erik had so many questions. It always amazed Nadir how Erik demanded to know every detail about everyone else, and yet cared so little about knowing about himself. Save the questions he'd asked about how much of a burden he'd been to Christine. If she'd eaten well, if she'd had enough rest. The sole question Nadir was most certain he'd ask…he had not. The issue of the surgeon's hands would come later no doubt. Erik was a deep man, and needed time to process, time to accept, time to contemplate. He was never one to delve into a subject unless he was prepared to face it.

Nadir pulled himself deep out of thought as he mounted the last hill. Just on the other side of it was the winter house. He prayed that he'd find it empty, undisturbed, just as it always was. The animal was puffing beneath him as he reached the peak. He breathed a sigh of relief. The house was dark. He slowed the animal to a trot, wishing it to cool a bit before he rested it. Nadir thought he'd find his way to the library, and pour himself a stiff brandy from the decanter hidden behind the books. Erik always had a small supply for his dear Nadir. Although it had been years since he looked for it, he was certain it would still be there, and what did time do but make brandy all the better?

Nadir was nearly at the fence of the yard when he caught movement by the house. He reached carefully under his cloak, retrieving his pistol. Whatever it was, a stray animal or the like, it didn't belong there, and if Nadir's aim wasn't off, it wouldn't be there for long. As he got a bit closer, he leveled the weapon in that direction until the object of his attention moved out of the shadow and into the full moonlight. It was a horse! Where there is a horse….there is a man! Nadir's pulse quickened. No doubt a burglar trying to make off with what valuables remained there.

Nadir quietly lashed his horse to the post at the end of the yard. He snuck up to the East side of the house peering in. He saw nothing. He stopped. After listening for a few minutes, and hearing nothing, he decided to move the other side of the house. He carefully brought his eyes level with the edge of the window. Nothing in his wildest imagination could have prepared him for what he now beheld. There, on the floor, leaning up against the pillar separating the parlor from the dining room, was Raoul, and in his arms was Meg.

Nadir gasped. His brow furrowed, but what of the dream? He thought to himself. He shook his head. He'd had a gut instinct to follow Christine's dream, and this is not what he had expected to find. Surely Raoul would not have been the man in her dreams, or he would certainly not have found Meg in his arms.

His eyes wandered. Canvas was torn off much of the furniture. Nadir stood fully surveying the room. There was blood splattered everywhere, that he could see… "she hadn't been wrong" he muttered under his breath. But why was Raoul there, what had happened, whose blood was this? Surely it was not all Meg's! And then he saw it. A large form on the floor, a boot peeking out from beneath the sheet that had been tossed over it. Nadir turned, putting his back to the side of the house, as he slid down to his haunches. Someone had been there, but what of Raoul, and why now did he find him holding Meg?" Nadir was there, and though he knew he would startle them both, he had to find out.


	76. Pursuing a Nightmare

Chapter 76 Pursuing a nightmare 

Madame Giry sat quietly in her room praying. A temporary comfort had settled around her as she had looked at the few pictures she'd had of Meg when she was a child. Outside of the pictures that were taken for the Opera House, they'd not had a formal family picture taken in years. When Meg returned, she'd see to it. She closed her eyes. She told herself over and over again, that it would be alright, everything would be alright…it was just a bad dream. Although she decided, she would feel much better when Nadir returned.

XXXXXX

Christine had retired. Knowing it would be hours before Nadir returned, she had to rest for the baby's sake. Erik had been resting peacefully at her side. She tried sitting up and reading to him, as she had done so many nights before, but that provided little comfort. She found the most rest lying next to him. As long as she could touch his skin, she felt safe, loved, comforted.

She stared at the ceiling as she felt sleep tugging at her eyelids. Even if she could not sleep, she could rest her eyes.

It a few moments she had yielded to the sleep she thought was eluding her. At first it was peaceful. It didn't take long before her dream returned. It was flashes of light, she could see wielding swords, twirling capes, lunges, blood, screams. She thrashed about on the bed, her muscles twitching involuntarily. Her dream seemed to move between places and time. She was at once in the cemetery, Raoul and Erik were crossing swords as she watched helpless to stop it. Then she flashed forward, Raoul again appeared in her dreams, lunging scraping swords with another in a cape, though Christine could not see his face.

She rolled from side to side, moaning. How she wanted to wake, but the dream would not release her. Flashing back and forth, shrill cries, and a final lunge and Raoul was over his opponent, poised for the final thrust. It seemed to move in torturously slow motion now, each agonizing second moving slower than the last. Raoul's wrist thrusting the point of his sword toward the other man's chest until he was within an inch of his life.

Christine felt herself crying out "NO….not like this…not like this…." The last image that flashed before her eyes was that of Erik's face and then a burst of white light as the sword pierced the heart, blood spewing from it like a geyser. Then her mind went blank.

Christine could feel that she'd broken a sweat, her nightgown damp from it, clung to her. She wrestled with her mind, trying to bring herself awake. One last fleeting image passed through her mind. Raoul standing above the lifeless form at his feet, a satisfied look on his face. She heard him say "this time I've not lost…not this time…"

Christine could feel herself trying to scream, to cry out. She jerked suddenly awake. She felt a strong pair of arms wrap around her as she began to sob uncontrollably. "Shhhhh….you've had a bad dream my dear….it is alright…I am here with you…." Erik had pulled her to him, and was caressing her head as it lay against his chest.

The door to their room burst open, Madame Giry rushing in, not having respected the customary rule of knocking first. "Is everything alright?"

"She's had a bad dream Madame, nothing more. She'll be fine in the morning, she simply requires rest."

Madame Giry looked white. "And what was the contents of this dream that it frightened her so?" Erik gave her a disconcerting look "an odd question at this time of the night, I'm sure she will share it with us in the morning, now go out and do close the…" Madame Giry interrupted. "I must know tonight I'm afraid. Nadir has gone out because of a dream she'd had earlier" Madame Giry paused, her next words nearly choking her, "he said it was more like a premonition than a dream."

Erik turned his head sharply, "what is this that you speak of, Nadir has gone where, and under what advice and information did he travel?"

Christine lay awake in Erik's arms. She'd stopped crying, but was still sniffling as she listened as Madame Giry explained what had transpired.

Erik pulled himself up to a sitting position, and then Christine after him. She laid her head on his chest resting it there as she began to speak. "The dream turned…it no longer had Meg in it…rather two men." Madame Giry came to rest in the chair next to the bed. Erik rubbed Christine's shoulder reassuringly. "And what of the men Christine?" "It was…it was…Raoul and…"

"RAOUL!" Erick thundered. The very mention of his name incited such anger in him. "Erik!" Madame Giry quickly broke in. His eyes flashed at her, but he quickly quieted, recognizing the urgency in her tone.

"Do go on" Madame Giry said. Christine puffed heavily. Erik's temper still frightened her, there was such power in it. He began to rub her shoulder again, showing her without words that she could continue, that he wouldn't interrupt.

"I saw flashes of the room where Meg had been. His sword was raised and it clashed with the other man." Christine paused, "the man was wearing a long black cape, but I couldn't see his face. Then I was in the cemetery Erik, where you and Raoul had the encounter."

Madame Giry's face lit with surprise and horror. "What?" she said timidly. "Not now, not now." Erik scowled at her gruffly.

"It kept moving back and forth, back and forth until, Raoul he, he….." Erik felt Christine go limp in is arms.

"That is enough!" Erik pulled Christine closer to him as she began to cry again. Madame Giry leaned back in the chair. "Perhaps this has all been a bad dream, one we will wake from in the morning." Madame Giry said as she rose and walked toward the door. "Try to get some sleep, you need your rest." She glanced back at Erik who was cradling Christine in his arms. "And you need your rest too young man!" She said as she closed the door.

Christine sobbed, a mournful sob, a deep gut wrenching sob escaping from her pitifully. "Erik, it frightened me so….he was standing over you, he'd pierced you, and it felt as though he'd driven the sword through my own heart!"

"Christine, do not worry, I am here, and as you can see, I am quite alive." That made Christine smile, nestling in all the more in the crook of his arm. Erik began to gently slide the two of them back into a reclining position, holding Christine close to him. He lifted her chin with his hand, bringing his lips tenderly to hers. "My dear dreams will always haunt us. I have had my share of them. But dreams have no power over us unless we let them. They fade with morning light." He kissed her again. "Do not worry, I will hold you as you sleep, no harm will come to you in my arms."

Though Christine lay silently in his arms, sleep would not come. She wondered why she would dream such a thing. Was it her anger against Meg? Was it her repressed sorrows for Raoul? She just wished the night was over, that it was dawn, that Nadir was back releasing her mind of the ill-at-ease that had settled in it. It was all very unlikely, but it tormented her still. She closed her eyes…perhaps praying would help.

Erik sat silently. He wrestled with his own emotions. This was his "family". He'd been the one looking after them for nearly Meg's entire life. Now, he felt useless, as useless as a nag that is set out to pasture, its owners pity the only thing keeping it from the butcher's block. He couldn't even care for himself, let alone offer any real protection to anyone. Now Nadir had gone off, alone into the night. Perhaps the mission would be fruitless, but he knew of Nadir's instincts, and they had never steered him wrong before!

Erik's mind wandered to the many times that he and Nadir had fought side-by-side. He had been his most faithful friend, even though there were sometimes years in between their encounters. Nadir was most decidedly a capable adversary, that caused Erik little worry. But, if Christine's dreams had any truth to them, there would be consequences to his arrival at the winter house…the repercussions could be devastating.

How Erik longed to be up on his horse, if only to ride in the shadows to be certain that all was well. Erik thought long and hard. Having made up his mind, he cleared his throat. "Madame Giry!" he hollered in the loudest voice he could manage. It was minutes only before she clamored into the room, robe forgotten in hers.

"What is it? Has she had another dream?" her face was pale, strained from lack of sleep, and hours of worry. "No." Erik said. "Now I'd ask you to fetch the coachman, tell him to bring the carriage to the back of the house. He should bridle four horses instead of the usual two, and he'll need to…" Madame Giry curtly interrupted, "Erik, whatever for, you must be mad if you think I'll allow Christine to…" "No, not Christine. I am going to…do not give me that look," Erik said flashing his eyes back at Madame Giry who was shaking her head. "Woman, I am the master of this house, and the master no longer sleeps! If I should wish to go, I shall go! I've no mind to allow Meg or Nadir to come to any harm. If Christine is correct….if the dream is correct…they will be needing assistance. If her dream is but folly, then we will have lost but a few hours of sleep, and nothing more. I simply cannot…nay…WILL not sit idly when there is something to be done!"

Erik's tone was harsh and commandeering. It both frightened and comforted Madame Giry as she knew that Erik was coming back to them…he was coming back to them. She stood a moment, fighting with herself. In his condition, a long journey could be dangerous. "NOW!" Erik bellowed. Madame Giry turned without a word and walked to the door. "You'd best send someone to see if the physician could accompany us. I'm certain that would alleviate your unmentioned fears of my traveling!" Madame Giry shook her head…it was is if he could read her mind.

Christine trembled in his arms. She'd been silently listening to him mumble, and then shout for Madame Giry. She was terrified of letting him go, and yet she knew she could do little to stop him. Any words or ploys to try to get him to stay would be in vain, so she would save her breath.

"Christine?" Erik shifted his weight beneath her. "Yes Erik, I know you must go, but I do wish you'd ask the physician first, you've only been awake less than a day and I'd worry that…" she was quiet.

"I must go Christine, if Nadir was compelled to go, then I must follow. If there are indeed injured people, Nadir shan't be able to bring them back on his horse!" Christine knew he was right.

"Then we'd best get you dressed, you cannot go in your bedclothes." Erik sighed, grabbing at his side as he pulled himself up to the edge of the bed. Twelve hours ago he could barely move his head, and now his muscles were beginning to move on command.

Madame Giry had woken the coachman, and several others in the stable to assist him. She sent one of the stable boys off to fetch the doctor. Then she made her way to the house, putting a pot of water on to boil as she wandered about the kitchen plucking things from the cupboard and pantry to fill a basket of provisions. She was rummaging through the medicine cabinet, putting together a small kit of things just in case the doctor wasn't available. Who would administer the treatments if he was not there, she was uncertain, but it was better to have something than nothing.

She heard a noise, and then a shuffle of feet. "Sara! I didn't mean to disturb you." Sara was scanning the counter looking at all that Madame Giry had pulled out. She began helping her pack before she even asked why.

"Is everything alright mum?" she said, packing the last of the foodstuffs in the basket, covering it with a linen cloth. "Nadir has gone to the winter house, and now Erik is determined to follow." "Erik? He can hardly move….what on earth good would it do for him to go?"

Madame Giry gave Sara a knowing look. "Ah, yes, no use in arguing with that man, he's stubborn to the core. I suppose we could render him unconscious with a blow to the head!" Normally Madame Giry would have laughed at the attempt at humor, but her emotions were on high alert, and even Sara's softening demeanor did little to quell her apprehension.

The pair had the baskets packed in short order. Sara hoisted them both and carried them to the back door. The coachman met her there, taking the baskets and carrying them to the stable where the carriage was being readied.

Madame Giry returned to the pot that was now boiling on the stove. Carefully she filled a large jar with the hot water and submersed a tea ball in it. She turned to Sara. "There is little to explain really. Nadir has gone to the winter house. Christine had a dream that Meg was in danger, and it woke her from the dead of sleep. Nadir heard of it and departed at once, having an instinct that there was something to be feared."

"But Meg wasn't due to return until next week, how could she…" Madame Giry reached out and put a hand on Sara's shoulder. "I know, it puzzles me also. But what I do understand, and trust, is that if these two men are frightened, then I should think there is something to it."

Sara nodded. She'd not known them long, but was beginning to understand that there was a deep, deep, thread of trust that wove them all together, and though she was on the fringe, she somehow felt a part of it. She handed Madame Giry a snug woolen sack. Madame Giry slipped the jar of tea into. "I'll run this out to the carriage mum, I'm certain that there are things for you to tend to." Madame Giry smiled, turned departing into the dark hallway.

**Author's Notes:**

**Captain Oblivious**: Yes, I knew you'd not like the plot line, although I didn't expect you to stomp on it! Perhaps a swift swing of your sword….. Yes, Meg has much to tell them…much indeed. But will someone…something intervene….thus making the agony go on? Yikes, I think I just felt your sword swish past me! Hope you enjoy….hey, stop swishing that sword around….!

Glad to hear you're renting Reign of Fire, its really rather good. You'll probably laugh at the scene where the two of them are re-enacting a scene from Star Wars, it had me rolling on the floor! Its odd to see them both on screen, but not a bad sort of odd! Dracula 2000 will become a favorite I'm sure..It got me to run out and buy a hard copy of the Stoker original! It is so much fun to see him in so many different roles. Although my heart still, and will forever belong to the Phantom!

**Daferretgirl**: Welcome to the family! Yes, poor Meg, she has been on such a rollercoaster lately…and the ride isn't over yet! Thanks for the compliment. I hope you enjoy the next chapters!

**NinetalesLuver**: Yes, you are most welcomed to the family! Thank you for your compliment. I do love weaving a tale, the more complicated it gets the faster my heart pounds! Sorry if I've made you neglect your other internet activity…I just cannot seem to help myself! Hope you enjoy the next chapters!

**PhantomFan13:** Yes, the cliffies are hard to avoid without giving away too much! You are a thoughtful one aren't you. The next updates may further complicate your theories, but you are very good at reading the writer's technique called foreshadowing….just keep in mind, I am rather fond of that myself, so what you read, may not be what is written….

**Craynann:** If you could picture me in your mind's eye right now, you'd see me humbling bowing to your compliments. I sincerely appreciate them more than my words can describe. Everything sounds "good" to me until I get it on paper, then I'm not sure at all. You're encouragement keeps me going. I also am glad it isn't in book form yet, for that would mean it would be over, and I'm just not ready to give it up! So much to come….hope you enjoy it!

**Waytoointoerik:** Love hate relationship with the cliffies…I know what you mean exactly! I get to the end of a chapter, and my fingers tremble because my mind doesn't want me to stop, but alas, I have to work, and I have to sleep, and well, live, although my mind wants to do little else than obey it's command to update, update, update…. I actually look forward to the week, because I know I'll be writing every night! Hope you enjoy this set of chapters…..


	77. Realizations

Chapter 77 Realizations 

Nadir stood peering into the window again. He saw the sword in Raoul's buckle, and a pistol lying on the floor at his side. He would have to proceed carefully so as not to provoke a lethal reflex. He decided on moving, slowly, deliberately toward the front of the house. He lifted several mid-sized rocks from the garden, hoping to use them to announce his arrival. He carefully lifted and tossed the largest of the stones onto the door stoop, first striking the door before rolling off the steps and down into the bushes. Nadir peered into the window. Nothing. Raoul hadn't even flinched. Again he heaved a rock, this time aiming for the center of the door. It struck with a loud thud.

Nadir sat silently at the side of the bushes. He heard nothing. He stood once more, peering into the window. This time he saw only Meg, leaned against the pillar, blanket wrapped around her. Nadir knew at once he was in danger. He had hoped to wake him, not put him on the defensive. Nadir raised his head just slightly, trying to scan the room. Just then he heard a piercing shrill of shattering glass, and a fiery heat on the top of his ear. Nadir's reflexes were fast, but in this case, not quite fast enough. Nadir dropped to the ground, hand cupping his ear. He could feel the blood pouring from it, and a large gape where the bullet had grazed him. He had no choice now.

"Raoul! It is Nadir, I am a friend of Er.." the words catching in his mouth before they could fully escape. "Raoul, I am the one who delivers Meg to your safekeeping…perhaps Meg has mentioned me!" Nadir yelled loud enough that he feared if they'd been next to a cemetery, he'd have woken the dead. He heard shuffling, and what sounded like whispering inside the house.

Raoul yelled out "show yourself…move into the moonlight beyond the bushes with your hands in the air." Nadir hoped that he had believed him, or he would soon be food for worms. Slowly, deliberately Nadir stood, moving towards the walking path that led to the front door. "Meg" Nadir called out, "do tell Raoul of our acquaintance, I wish not to be used for target practice this night!" There was a long pause.

Nadir felt a sitting duck waiting for something to happen. This was rather disconcerting. The front door opened and Raoul stepped out, not closing it. He walked carefully toward the man, scanning the grounds to the left and right before coming to rest in front of Nadir. He extended his hand. "I am sorry about the shot sir, after all that has gone on this night, I am a bit on edge. I did not expect you, or anyone else for that matter tonight." Raoul was still looking around, and did not stop until he spied what he'd been seeking…a horse.

"Best bring your animal in next to mine. There are wolves not far from here, and they'd sooner have a piece of easy prey than to have the work of hunting it down in the forests. Nadir nodded, walking back to his horse and leading it up beside the other horse.

As they walked back toward the house, Raoul inquired "have you any medical training?" Nadir responded, "from the looks of things, you need an undertaker, not a physician sir."

"No sir, not for him" he said pointing to the dead figure that lay under the white sheet, "for her?" Nadir rushed to Meg's side. Her face was swollen, a singular laceration marring her fair cheek. Nadir lifted her arms, looking gravely at the slashes that he saw, thank heavens they were superficial and would heal well. He inspected each leg, only up to the knee. They were bruised and puffy. "Can you stand Meg?" She nodded "I'll try."

Raoul rushed in to steady her. Her head ached, but pain was a sign of life, and she was grateful for having it. As she stood she tried to regain her senses. "Where is everyone Nadir? Have they moved to the summer cottage already?"

Nadir immediately picked up on her comment saying "why yes, they've departed nearly a week ago now Miss. I was coming to town to fetch a messenger to tell you that we would be moving and that you shouldn't worry, I'd pick you up at the house as had been arranged." Nadir knew the explanation was shabby at best, but hoped Raoul, in the confusion would not question it, for what other plausible explanation could there be for the coincidence? The details of yet another false address would have to be worked out later.

Raoul felt tired. He had just begun to settle into a routine that was predictable. The pain of Christine's loss was more of a dull constant ache now rather than the fresh flares of a gaping wound. This day had produced feelings he'd tried hard to repress, and some he'd never felt. He glanced over at the corpse. With someone else tending to Meg he focused on the fact that he'd taken a life…a LIFE…somewhere down deep inside his soul was pleading…"God forgive me for what I have done"….. It had happened so quickly, instinctively he had protected her, not caring for his own life. "Christine would be proud…" he said under his breath.

Nadir had sat Meg down in one of the chairs, and gone to fetch the remainder of her belongings. Raoul turned away from the dead man, facing Meg once again.

"Meg, I fear that I repeat myself, and not wanting to seem any less sincere I must pray for your forgiveness, for all that you have had to endure." Meg peered at him through her swollen eyes. Raoul was not a man who could hide his true feelings, quite the opposite of the stone face his father possessed. Meg could tell Raoul's apology was quite genuine, but she couldn't help but feel it was she who should be apologizing. Had she not frightened earlier, had she not decided to be a coward and stay there the night instead of taking the trip back to Courtland Manor, neither would have been in this position.

"Raoul, do not apologize. I am most grateful that you have been there for me, cared for me during these last months." Her very feelings welled up inside of her. Perhaps it was her weakened state. Perhaps it was the ordeal she had just been through, or the tears that now welled in Raoul's eyes. Months later she would look back on this moment, and wonder at what she now said.

"Raoul, I am thankful for you, for all you have done for me, for all that you've shared with me…Raoul…I love you too." Meg wished in an instant she could suck the words back in, her heart pounded in her chest, her mind raced as she realized what she had just said. "You fool, you fool…." She chanted inside her head.

Raoul stopped. The tears that had threatened to spill, now quivered on the edge of his lids. He blinked several times, trying to register what had just been said. The words of love did not flow freely among nobility, in fact they were uttered in the most private of circumstances. Meg's face was lowered toward the ground, a shade of crimson filled her cheeks. Raoul turned his back to her, facing the portrait of a very young Christine that had been uncovered during the struggle. Looking into the eyes of that face Raoul mouthed a few silent words. "I'll always love you…..forgive me for living on without you." With that Raoul turned and moved to Meg's side.

He went down on his knees raising her chin with his hand. "Meg, this is most difficult for both of us. I can tell you are feeling as I did earlier today…." He looked her in the eye. "Christine would have wanted us both to be happy. To learn to love again…..she would have wanted us to live. Who could better understand our loss than each other? Who better could we share a life of memories with than each other? Meg, I think you knew before today that I was rather fond of you, and enjoyed your company. The weeks that we've spent together on your visits to Paris have done nothing more than confirm what I believe we have both been feeling, yet denying for the sake of a memory." Raoul paused, "Meg, I think you know that I…I love you too."

Meg's face was covered with tears as she looked up at Raoul…this time…she had heard it with her own ears…. "Raoul…" she said, as he reached down and tenderly wiped the tears from her face before placing a gentle, tender kiss on her lips. He pulled her carefully up into his arms, lifting her and walking over to the window, where the moonlight bathed her face is a cool white glow. Though both of their hearts were aching, they reveled at the relief that they felt from releasing what they had been denying. Neither knew what they would make of this, how others would react, both having reservations that the other could never have understood. So many secrets…so many secrets.

Nadir came around the corner, bag in hand. He stopped. Something about the air was different, decidedly different. "Raoul?" He turned revealing Meg in his arms. Nadir was confused, but decided against questions. "Perhaps we should go into town to fetch a hansom. I've nothing but my horse here now, as I wasn't anticipating passengers on this trip." Nadir nearly wishing that he had brought the carriage, but in the heat of the moment hadn't thought he'd need one.

"Sir, if you'd like to do so, I shall stay with Meg. Perhaps you could inquire about a physician? I should think Meg's injuries should be treated before she heads back to Paris." Both Meg and Nadir startled, looking at Raoul.

"Paris?" she said. Raoul looked down at Meg " my dearest Meg, you didn't think I'd let you recuperate in the care of a country doctor did you? Besides, you'd be of little use to your mother now, she'd have yet another to care for, and as capable as she is, that would make her burden even greater. My family physician could tend to you, and I've a house full of servants that could be at your beck and call."

Nadir stood still. Perhaps he had missed more than he realized. Raoul was treating Meg as a serious suitor would have. "But I must return home, Mother will be…" Raoul looked down at Meg again, kissing her forehead. "My dear, you shall need the rest, the finest treatment, please do not argue it is for your own good that I insist."

Meg felt her heart flutter, could this really be happening?

When no further protests arose, Raoul said "it is settled then. Nadir, if you could fetch the hansom and a physician, and an officer of the law, I would be indebted to you. I'll put Meg to rest until arrangements can be made." Raoul didn't even wait for Nadir's response before he turned and carried Meg up the stairs.

Nadir stood scratching at his beard. How this night had taken shape. With any good fortune he'd wake in his bead having dreamed the whole thing into being.

XXXXX

The ride had been a bit bumpy. The four horses had made the trip more swiftly, but a carriage can only endure so much. Erik's cloak was drawn around him, the hood pulled over the top. He and the doctor had sat silently for the first hour. Somehow the doctor knew, though no one had told him, that Erik had discovered the alterations. Occasionally the doctor reached across the carriage and took Erik's pulse, and felt his head. Erik made no complaint. Off on the Eastern horizon the first hints of sunrise began to show. It was nearly four o'clock in the morning now. It was Erik who first broke the silence.

"Do you have the medical journals that explain it?" "Pardon me?" The doctor replied. "The books that you referred to in order to treat my CONDITION!" Erik tried hard not to snarl as he spoke. The doctor knew at once. There was little point in avoiding the subject now, as Erik had never been one to mince words.

"Yes, in the library at the manor" the physician replied carefully. "I'd like very much to read them when we return." Erik said in an unnervingly calm tone. There was again silence. After some time Erik spoke again, "does it speak of the butchery? The butchery to treat the sub-humans who are cursed with this blight?"

The doctor shook his head. It would be a long while before Erik would ever recognize that this would improve his life, make it easier for him to live normally, to be out in public, to do all those things that he had denied himself for so long. "It is not butchery, as you call it sir. Butchery means to harm, to maim, to kill. Surgery, such as this one, means to preserve life, to improve life."

Erik growled in a low inaudible tone. Silence filled the carriage, an almost un-traversable chasm. The coach began to slow and pulled over to the side of the trodden dirt road. A lone horseman could be heard coming from a distance. Perhaps it was Nadir. It comforted Erik that it had been a false alarm, or surely he would not have been returning now. It was most unfortunate that they had not met sooner, as they had nearly gone all of the way to the winter house. The coachman rapped firmly on the roof of the carriage. "It is Nadir sir." "Good." Was Erik's only response.

Nadir slowed his horse to a trot, allowing the animal to cool as he came to a complete stop not five meters from the carriage. Nadir dismounted and walked over nodding at the coachman. The last thing that Nadir had expected to encounter was a carriage from Courtland Manor. He was at once both curious and relieved. Had Madame Giry been that concerned to have traveled so far? Nadir would most decidedly pass his horse on to another, in favor of returning to the Manor in her company and the comfort of the carriage. He didn't know exactly how he would tell her of what happened, or what Raoul planned to do, but he would somehow manage to find the words.

As Nadir opened the door to the carriage he was already thinking about the greeting he would offer her. Much to his surprise it was not Madame Giry who was inside, but instead two men…the two that could offer him both assistance and advice. Though startled he was grateful, it had been them.

"Erik? Why on earth are you here? You should be resting!" Nadir looked at the physician who quickly nodded his head at him. Erik had pushed his weight around again, and the doctor had done the only thing he could do, acquiesce, and accompany him on his journey.

"Nadir, do get in, take leave of your work, and do tell us what you've discovered. You were returning no doubt having found the house empty as we all suspected. Nadir slowly lowered himself on the seat across from Erik's.

"Your wife sir…..she has a gift." Nadir had confirmed with that one statement that Christine had been right. Oh how he wished he could relieve her of it, but he could not. "Nadir, pray do tell me what happened." Nadir looked over at the physician, Erik nodded. The man stood and stepped out of the carriage, walking up to talk to the driver.

"Erik, I do fear to tell you that Christine has the gift…" Erik's head hang low. "The gift you speak of…is the one from Persia?" "Yes, I'm quite afraid it is…you would scarce believe what details she saw Erik, what she described, how she knew…"

"And the dead man? Who is he?" Erik looked up at Nadir. "He was the hansom that had brought Meg to the winter house. He had come back when the sun set." "And Raoul? How did he find himself there?"

"Erik, all of the details are not yet clear to me. I can tell you this though, there is much more pressing issues now." Erik looked again at Nadir, what could be more pressing than this?

"Erik, when I first arrived I found the house dark, and a singular horse standing out in front. As I peered into the windows I saw Meg on the floor…"

"Had Raoul not yet arrived?" "No, he was there too….holding Meg in his arms!"

Erik flinched, "what of this Nadir, perhaps he was trying merely to console her."

Nadir shook his head, "no my friend, my thoughts were later confirmed when I'd gone to retrieve Meg's bags from the bedroom upstairs. When I came down, Raoul was cradling Meg in his arms by the window, and turning to see me he kissed her forehead."

The nerve in the right side of Erik's face began to twitch. His hand flew up to cover it. He had never felt this before in his deformed cheek. He swallowed hard, he'd ask the physician about that later.

"Nadir, are you absolutely certain, there can be no mistakes here…this has many implications…."

"Erik, do you not think I've been considering those as I rode to you?"

Erik looked down at the floor of the carriage. "Erik, there is more. Meg was injured by this intruder…"

Fire now flew in Erik's eyes, his temples began to bulge. "It is a good thing that he is dead now, for if he hadn't been, he'd not have had long to live to tell of his travails!"

Nadir continued on calmly, trying to ignore Erik's outburst. "Erik, she will heal in time, most are abrasions and bruises, some swelling on her face, and a gash I'm afraid will need tending to."

Erik started to move, he had to instruct the driver, retrieve the doctor, they must get to her at once! Nadir put his hand on Erik's shoulder. "Erik, there is one more issue." He paused, this would not be well received, and would alter the plans that had already been made. "Erik, Raoul wants to take Meg back to Paris to convalesce. She has all but agreed to go. Erik…..I happened upon a private part of their conversation, and though I am embarrassed to repeat it, I think you must know…."

"What is it man, do not sit there coyly fearing my temper, it only grows with your hesitation!"

"Erik, Raoul told Meg that he loved her, that they should no longer deny their feelings for one another, and that Christine would want them to be happy!"

Erik sank into the seat, his back hitting the carriage hard enough to knock the wind out of him temporarily. "How is this happening? That infernal, arrogant, aristocrat! He thinks we will allow this? NO! Meg is coming home with us, her mother will be worried sick!"

Nadir sat back too, allowing Erik to rant and rave. When he was fairly certain Erik had properly vented, Nadir said "it is not for us to decide my friend….Madame Giry will have the final say. Meg has made her feelings perfectly clear."

"But Christine, how will she…." "Erik, I do not know. I know only this, you of all people know about the power of love. If it is love……standing in the way will not stop it."

Erik nodded. How would he ever break this to Christine? They would be parted forever if Meg went to be with Raoul. He would be parted with Madame Giry, as she would most certainly follow her daughter. This was changing everything. In the dark depths of his solitude in the caverns, he'd worried little about the trivial emotions of the world above him. These complications of life were foreign to him. Now they infuriated him. Would life ever be normal?


	78. Decisions of a sleepless night

Chapter 78 Decisions of a sleepless night 

Raoul laid Meg on the covers of the bed. Meg sighed, still feeling like she was inside of a bizarre dream. Raoul sat on the side of the bed holding her hand, looking down at her.

Meg had never felt so confused in the entirety of her life. Her feelings for Raoul elicited both a deep guilt and a profound longing she'd not felt before. This was all new, all odd. It was as if a forbidden Pandora's box had been opened, and it contained both life and anti-life, its power swallowing her whole. Her head was swimming. Her face hurt, her arms felt like limp switches from a willow tree.

She closed her eyes. The horror of the hours before rushing back to her. The thoughts tormented her. It was too horrific to think about, she pushed it aside in her mind. She'd thought she would be dead now, her corpse lying on the wooden floor for some poor unfortunate person to discover. Instead, her attacker lay dead. Dead at the hands of her "sister's" fiancé, who now had confessed his love for HER! How much more truly torturous could the present be? Could she leave her mother? Christine….? She'd not even had a chance to tell them what she had intended to, and now…she'd be away for a long while. What to do….no answer seemed to be the right one.

Raoul stood and walked over to the window seat. His heart was heavy. Emotions filled his every breath, dominated his every thought. Did loving Meg now mean he disrespected Christine's memory? Surely everyone would understand, for even widowers married not months after the death of their wives….would this be any different? He sighed heavily. It was different and he knew it. For the small circle that had become his family would surely see Meg as a replacement for Christine…not that he loved Meg for herself.

He looked out into the night sky. That activity had become frequent for him, it seemed to soothe him. He found in it a comfort that the light of day did not provide. He would have to come to terms with all of this. Raoul found himself wondering why Nadir had taken so long. Surely the short trip to the city would have produced a physician and a carriage by now. He had no want to leave Meg alone to check. Not after all she had been through. He simply would have to be patient.

XXXX

Christine had been lying on the foot of Madame Giry's bed as they both attempted in vain to sleep. Rest would not come for either of them. Nadir was gone. Erik had gone after him. Neither had returned. Glimmers were on the eastern horizon; morning was not far off. Had the visit been fruitless, surely one of them would have returned by now.

"Christine?" Madame Giry ventured. "No, I am not asleep, I'm merely resting my eyes," she responded sleepily. "Would you like some tea?" Christine sighed. Neither were sleeping, perhaps the distraction of tea would pass the time more suitably than lying about. "I'd love some." The two women rose, padding down to the kitchen.

There was a pot of water on the stove simmering. Sara no doubt had anticipated that someone would need it. Madame Giry retrieved two tea balls and a tin of cookies from the cupboard. Sitting the teacups in place on the table she fetched the kettle of water, filling each cup. Christine stared down at the bubbling tea ball as the water seeped into it. Madame Giry took her place across from Christine.

"My dear, we cannot worry for things we do not know…that is what makes old women cynical…" Christine interrupted "and young women ill from it." Madame Giry smiled at her.

"Madame Giry, I do not know the origins of this dream, or why I would think of such horror. Nothing has ever come to me with such force before, and it frightened me."

Madame Giry placed a reassuring hand on Christine's. "My dear, one can only wonder at the workings of the mind, it is a powerful force that is not easily ignored."

"I do so pray that it was misguided, that the dream had no foundations, for I shan't dare to think of what I shall do if it did not." Christine was looking down at her stomach, and began to rub it. She thought of Meg…Nadir…Erik, and she suddenly felt lonely.

Madame Giry noticed her glance and said, "you will feel as protective over your child as I do Meg. But you will come to realize as much as the child is your own, it belongs to a far greater and more capable being…from that truth you cannot escape. Rest in that knowledge my dear." Madame Giry sat staring at the small fire that still kindled in the hearth. Oh how she longed for Nadir to return…she had to know that the house had been empty, that all was well.

XXXXX

Erik sat for a moment, a pained expression on his face. He sighed. "Meg shall have to return to Paris with Raoul." He paused. "We will have to send Madame Giry by carriage to her in Paris."

Nadir looked at him. "I suppose you are right. We could not risk Raoul following us back to the manor, as I am certain he would even if we protested."

Erik felt sick. He had tried to protect those women. Had he been awake, he would never have permitted Meg to visit Paris, never allowed this at all. They would all have been spared this grief if he had been awake to take care of them.

"ERIK!" Nadir said in a frustrated tone, having called his name three times before. "Nadir, there is no time for discussion. Have the physician return to the carriage. I'll give him the proper instructions. You will tell the coachmen what they need to know and nothing more." Nadir nodded. "And what of you Erik? You cannot risk being seen…" "My dear Nadir. I am but a ghost to this situation. The coach will be said to be of the neighboring village. The physician will be from there as well. I shall not accompany you there."

Nadir looked puzzled. "We can hardly leave you along the side of the road sir, and there is no time to fetch another carri.." Erik interrupted, "do not mistake me for a fool Nadir. Someone needs to take your horse back to Courtland Manor."

Nadir looked at him in horror, "Erik, you are in no condition to.." Nadir looked down again. Erik was giving him that knowing look of condescension.

"Nadir, you have observed me riding a horse in much worse condition…you were at my side many times to know of what I speak." Nadir nodded. Indeed, he'd seen Erik pierced with a sword through his middle, and watched as he rode several hours on the back of a horse before receiving the attentions of a physician.

"Erik, I've no need to argue with you, as I am certain that it will come to no good. I'll take your word to the coachmen, and send the doctor to you." Erik nodded to Nadir as he closed the carriage door.

"What have I done…Madame Giry will not forgive me for this…and Christine….." Erik was brought swiftly back to reality as the door opened and the physician climbed back in. "My good sir, we've much to discuss, but let us focus on what is at hand." Erik's voice was muffled as the carriage door closed.

Nadir stood waiting outside the carriage after he'd talked to the coachmen. All was in place from his perspective. He waited only for Erik to appear from the carriage.

"There, that should do to ease the discomfort." The physician said as he pulled the syringe from Erik's arm. "You'll want to rest when you arrive home. If you become lightheaded from the medicine, stop the horse, and lie down for awhile, it should pass." The doctor nodded toward Erik, confirming that he had understood all of Erik's instructions. Erik hadn't wanted to take anyone else into his confidence, but had no choice given the circumstances. The physician knew enough to keep his tongue bridled, as this family had become nearly his only patients as of late, and he needed to keep his position with them.

Erik held his side tightly as he emerged from the carriage. Nadir slowly walked his horse over to Erik. It would be difficult for Erik to mount, but he would do it with Nadir's help.

Once in the saddle, Erik felt strangely at home. He felt an independence that he hadn't known for a long while and he breathed in a relieving sigh of refreshment.

"Erik, he's been ridden hard these last hours, and has had not an hour's rest since we left, do ride him slowly back…for his sake, and for yours." Erik looked down at Nadir. He was so unaccustomed to being ordered about by anyone, but agreed to take Nadir's sage advice. He was after all a married man, his wife was with child, and they needed him. He could no longer think of just himself.

Nadir tipped his hat to Erik as he disappeared inside the carriage. Erik hadn't traveled this road on horseback in quite some time. The long expanse of the packed earth lay before him illuminated by the setting moon on one side, and slightly by the rising sun on the other. At either end of it was his family. Only he and Nadir knew what the morning would bring, and neither had an easy task ahead of them.

Erik jabbed the horse lightly twice and it began to trot down the dirt road, a sense of freedom filled him. It had been too long since he was able to enjoy a solo ride in the dark on a fine animal. It would give him time to feel normal, time to clear his mind, to prepare to tell the women who waited for him all that he must. Although it was painful to him physically to ride the horse, it was the weight of his heart that was the most difficult.

XXXXXXXX

The carriage pulled inside the gate of the winter house. A small kerosene lamp, the singular light, shone brightly in the upper bedroom. Nadir and the physician made their way quickly into the house and up the stairs.

Meg lay asleep, tucked neatly beneath a downy quilt. Her swollen lip, eye, and lacerated cheek illuminated by the glow of the lamp. Raoul was leaning into the frame of the window seat, sleeping himself. The doctor made note of the blood on his shirt, but Nadir shook his head "it is the blood of another."

The doctor walked over sitting on the edge of the bed. "I'll need some privacy to examine her." Nadir nodded, "of course, I'll fetch the Vicomte and be out of your way." Nadir walked over first to Meg, gently rubbing her shoulder. It was best, he thought with Raoul in the room that he wake her, for it would be most suspicious for her to recognize a strange physician. Meg slowly opened her left eye, the right one now being fully swollen shut.

"Nadir!" Meg exclaimed. The urgency in her voice surprised even her. "Nadir, I must speak with you, I…" Meg paused. "Meg, this is a physician from the village, he is here to examine your wounds." Meg glanced over, recognizing in an instant the doctor who had been treating Erik, and tending to Christine during her illness as of late. Meg did nothing more than smile in bewilderment at both of them.

Nadir walked over and gently shook Raoul's arm. "Come, the physician will examine her now, let us give them some privacy." Raoul was bleary-eyed, simply following Nadir from the room. Meg watched his every movement until the door shut behind them.

"How did you get here so quickly? The sun has not yet risen, and Nadir couldn't have traveled…" The doctor put his finger to his lips. "Nadir met us on the road, and I returned with him by carriage." "Who did he meet….who were you traveling with all this way from…." The doctor looked around and pointed toward the door. "We must be careful Meg, try not to strain yourself."

He brought the lamp to the table next the bed, getting a closer look at the gash on Meg's cheek, and the swelling around her eye. "Does this hurt when I.." "Oh yes, please do not press, it is most tender." Meg winced under the pain of the doctor's hand. "I'm afraid I'll have to put a few stitches in this wound Meg, it is long and deep, and will not heal well on its own. Meg was silent. She knew her face hurt, but hadn't known there was a gash there. "Will it leave a scar?"

The doctor looked down at Meg as he pulled some things from his bag. He gave her a sad smile. A young girl no doubt would worry about such things, not having yet secured a husband. "Meg you've watched as I treated Stephan, you know I'll do my best to minimize whatever scaring there might be."

Meg felt sick to her stomach. The doctor began to prepare the area, washing it with the water and soap, smearing it with iodine. Meg watched as he threaded his needle.

"Is everyone well….back at Courtland Manor….is Christine feeling better?" The doctor looked down at Meg, raising his finger to his lips, again looking at the door. "He instructed me not to use their names for any reason."

"Who instructed you?" "Erik, when he left the carriage." Meg froze. "Erik?" The doctor positioned himself above Meg, leaning in as close to her face as he could, the lamp pulled near. "Now this will sting at first, but I will be finished in no time, try not to move."

Meg closed her eyes, tensing as she felt the sharp point pierce her flesh and tug a thread through it. The doctor continued, "he woke me out of the dead of sleep. His servant imploring me to come quickly. I thought something had happened to him, to his wife, but when I arrived at the manor, he was already in the coach waiting for me."

Meg wanted to ask so much, but she could only listen. "I know he was still sleeping when you left for Paris Meg, he woke just a couple of days ago. He's doing much better than I had ever anticipated, by all rights he should still be bed-ridden." Meg winced again as the doctor was pulling the stitches tightly into a knot. "He is on his way back to the manor to fetch your mother. He'll be sending her on to Paris to meet up with you."

Meg felt like she had a large weight on her cheek, the stinging of the tincture the doctor applied seemed to make the feeling more intense. "Meg, let's have a look at the rest of you." Meg sat in silence as she absorbed this new information. Erik was awake, he'd brought the doctor…..met Nadir on the road…how had he known, why were any of them there? Meg felt the hands of the doctor examining the scrapes on her arms, and the ones on her legs. He cleansed and bandaged each one that needed it, applying salves to the others. Finally he was finished.

"Thank you." Meg said, smoothing her hands over the bandage on her arm. "Will Nadir be traveling with us to Paris?" The doctor was putting everything back in his bag. "I will not be going with you to Paris madame. I do not know of Nadir's intentions. I think he may be escorting your mother." He stood putting on his coat. "Now, this tube of salve should be applied to the stitches every few hours. In a few days it will begin to itch, but for your own sake, resist doing so."

"If you would sir, please send Nadir back in….without Raoul." The doctor nodded as he left the room. "God's speed to you Meg."

Within minutes Nadir appeared in the door, closing it behind him he came to rest at Meg's side. He smiled compassionately at Meg. They had become quite fond of one another during their time at Courtland Manor, and Meg had begun to look at him as something of a father figure.

"Meg, let me answer some questions for you, things you no doubt are wondering now. Erik is awake, he has been for several days." Meg interrupted "I know, the doctor told me of it. Has he seen his face yet? How is Christine?" Nadir paused. "Yes, he has seen his face….I do not know yet what he thinks…although it has made him quite testy….which in his case is not entirely bad. Christine is fine, she's feeling a bit better, all things considered."

Meg tried to smile but could not, her face feeling quite numb. "Erik and I agreed that it is best for you to go to Paris with Raoul. I do not know what this will mean for us all, no doubt Raoul has intentions beyond helping this once, or I would not have found you in his arms."

Meg blushed heavily. "Nadir, please do not…" Nadir raised his hand. "Erik knows, I'll leave it to him to talk with Christine. It will not be easy, but she will wonder about your prolonged absence, and it was bound to be discovered sooner or later." Meg sat silently.

"I will return to Courtland Manor, to retrieve your mother. We will meet up with you in a day's time. Your mother will need to decide then what to do. It is not for Erik, or for me to decide, that is something you need to discuss with her."

Nadir sat looking at Meg. "Nadir, there is something more I need to share with you. Dear friend, I am most concerned, and I had planned to discuss this with my mother. Please retrieve my satchel would you?"

Nadir rose and without question, went to retrieve the bag that was downstairs. Raoul sat as Nadir descended, grabbing the bag, and going back up the stairs. He brought the bag in and laid it at Meg's side. "Inside, in the left pocket." Nadir reached in, pulling a photograph from it. His eyes grew wide.

"What is this? Erik does not have a child! When was this taken….where did you get this?" Nadir gaped.

"I am relieved to hear you say Erik, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me."

"Whatever do you mean Meg?" She swallowed hard, saying, "that picture is not Erik."

Nadir looked down again, he saw Erik plainly. "It is Erik, I'd know that face anywhere, look how he's standing, how he's holding…"

"Nadir, that is Raoul's father…that child on the sand….that is Raoul…and in the background…that is Raoul's mother!"

"What?" Nadir gasped. "This cannot be, there must be some mistake!"

"Nadir, this knowledge is in part, the very reason I left Paris early, that I stopped at this house. I did not know how to bring such news to Christine, to Erik. I was a coward and I've paid dearly for it!"

Nadir looked up at Meg, reaching out he grabbed her hand. "I do not know all of the details my dear, but if Raoul followed you this far, it would not have been difficult for him to follow you all the way back to Courtland Manor. That would have been most unfortunate. Fate had interceded, although you suffered much at its hand."

Meg reached up touching her face. "Nadir, how do we break such news? We do not know who the mother might be. From what Raoul told me, his parents were only married several years before his birth, so this woman" she said pointing to the woman in the photograph, "cannot be the mother. There must be another, who it might be I do not know, but I'd dare say there is no doubt who the father is! Nadir, could we be wrong? Is it possible that it is but a mere coincidence?"

Nadir sat speechless. How could this be? Every memory that Erik had told Nadir led him to believe that his mother was a penniless woman who cared little for herself, and even less for Erik until she finally threw him to the gypsies. Surely this would not have been a woman that the senior De Chagny would have consorted with…but there was no other plausible explanation! "Meg, may I have this photograph?" She nodded. If she were to take it with her, it would be discovered in her bags.

"When I am in Paris with your mother, I shall check into birth certificates, and the like. It is doubtful that anything will come of it, but I'd like to check before we make too many assumptions."

"I knew you would know what to do Nadir, thank you."

Nadir wasn't entirely sure he did know what he was doing, but one had to start somewhere. The last place he would reveal this information was to the one who needed it least. He'd have to know before he told Erik.

"Now Meg, I will fetch the doctor to assist you to the carriage."

"Nadir, what of the man that is downstairs, what will become of him?" "I'll tend to that my dear, do not worry. I am only glad that you are safe. These wounds will heal. I am grateful that, that which is most precious to you, was not taken from you." Meg nodded, "as am I."

Nadir departed, leaving Meg alone. She breathed in a deep sigh of relief. She would go to Paris, her mother would be there soon, and no one would be the wiser for now. They would have to fabricate something. Now that he was awake, Erik would help with that, he was more masterful at deception than anyone she had ever known, this would not be difficult for him.

XXXX

Erik had been riding for several hours. The pain of the vibrations from the horse's hooves hitting the compacted dirt sent jolts up Erik's mid section. Although the medicine had dulled the pain, it did not remove it. Erik was feeling a bit light headed, as the doctor had anticipated, but could not stop, the hills were full of wolves, and he didn't have the luxury of feeling human now. The morning light was burgeoning on the horizon, a pale pink glow, shafts of golden light piercing through the otherwise grey overcast.

Erik felt so tired, so tired. He leaned into the horse, winding his cape around the bridle, tucking the ends beneath the saddle as best he could. He took his arms and pulled them through the reins, giving enough slack for the horse to move freely. Just before he lost consciousness he prayed, "let me make it back to them Lord." The horse knew the way home, and Erik had put his faith in the beast to get him there.

**Author's Notes:**

**Captain Oblivious**: Yes, that sword of yours….I knew it was there all along! Somehow through cyberspace I felt the draft from your repeated lunges…I could almost hear it slicing through the air! Yes, there are many complications, just like in real life…o.k., maybe not my life, but somebody's life out there is that complicated… Yes, everyone seems to be leaving one-by-one…you know the old adage….. "united we stand, divided we fall?" hmmmmm….got you wondering now don't I? I'd better learn how to fence or I'll be in big trouble won't I!

Reign of Fire was kind of creepy. I agree, Gerard and Christian being the best parts of it. I really didn't like Matthew's character….I used to think he was so handsome….what on earth was I thinking? He was slimy….so full of himself….it was just too weird. Yes, the Star Wars scene was my favorite, especially when Gerry (Creedy) pulls out his hands to show it to the kids so they knew that his hand hadn't really been cut off! I cried too….I just wanted him to live on, be a hero….in some alternate universe, where time travel exists…I wanted him take his partially disfigured face and whisk off to become the Phantom….and Christian to whisk off to be Batman…and somehow they'd go about saving the world together….yikes….I think I just saw someone in a nice white coat with a name tag on it peeking around the door…they've come to take me back to the asylum!

Hope you enjoy the next chapters….if they let me have my computer in the loony bin I'll update again tomorrow! Ohhh….one more note….if you get Dracula 2000, better get out some kleenex's, you'll feel pretty sorry for Drac… but boy oh boy, is he handsome….you almost want to get bitten…..yikes, here comes that white coat guy again!

**Phantom13:** No, I'm quite embarrassed to say I've not seen Moulin Rouge. Don't know why really, it just never worked out for me when it was in the theaters, and I've not rented it. But, perhaps I will….I need something to do on Saturday night…oh silly me….after I work on Saturday night…there is no rest for the writers…. Hope you enjoy the next chapters!


	79. Unhappy returns

**Chapter 79 Unhappy returns**

"It is settled then." Nadir said, shaking hands with Raoul. "The coach will take you back to Paris with Meg. I'll retrieve Madame Giry this morning. No doubt she will not want to delay, so we will likely be in Paris by nightfall."

Raoul nodded. "I shan't want to trouble the staff there, and deprive them of their carriage for that many days, I could easily send one of my…" "Nonsense" Nadir interrupted, "that would only delay Madame Giry getting to the side of her daughter."

Raoul knew that Nadir was right. He didn't know how he would face Madame Giry, in light of all that had happened. He knew only that they now shared a common bond in their concern Meg, in a way they hadn't before. He'd never allowed himself to think of her as more than a friend. He looked at Meg with new eyes now, and all of her needs would be tended to…he'd see to that.

The coachmen had removed two horses from the carriage, one for Nadir, the other for the physician. One coachman would ride Raoul's horse back to Paris. They'd no idea how Ronaldo had traveled there, but finding no horse, they assumed he had been on foot.

"Nadir, and what of the authorities, are they to come to collect this man?" "Nadir looked at Raoul, "Sir, with all due respect, I should like to put him under the carriage, and have you carry him off to Paris. Since his services were procured at the Starboard, perhaps they will know how to notify the next of kin. Surely you would prefer the police in Paris deal with this, than those of this small village?"

Raoul caught the underlying sentiment of Nadir's message and nodded. A scandal in a small village far from Paris would give fodder for gossip should word reach it. The last thing that De Chagny family needed now was scandal, not when so many people were depending on their good name to resurrect the Opera House from the ashes. "Perhaps it is best indeed. I have but one request, that we not tell Meg of this, I fear it would only case her further injury." Nadir nodded "indeed." He motioned toward the coachmen, who took a large canvas into the house to retrieve the body.

The physician was just bringing Meg from the house as Raoul and Nadir concluded their business. Raoul went to her, the pink hues of morning light now bathing her in a soft dewy glow. In this fragile state Meg needed him….and it felt good to be needed again. He helped her into the carriage, making certain that she was comfortable before he returned to Nadir.

"Sir, I wish we had made our acquaintances under different circumstances. I do thank you most sincerely for all you've done for my Meg." Raoul paused, possessiveness had already begun to settle into his vocabulary regarding Meg. "I do ask you but one final favor." Nadir leaned in as Raoul began to whisper. "No doubt you know of my engagement to Meg's closest friend, Christine, who has been missing since the Opera House tragedy." Raoul looked at the ground. "It has been quite a revelation really that Meg and I find ourselves in our present circumstances." He paused, the next words were the most difficult. "I've become rather fond of Meg, and wish to care for her until she is well enough to make her own decisions regarding her future. Madame Giry is a dear woman, and will be most understanding."

"Raoul, what favor is that you ask of me?" Nadir inquired.

Raoul felt a crimson blush on his cheeks. The words seemed so foreign on his lips, they felt like betrayal of the deepest kind. "I shall want to ask Madame Giry for permission for her daughter to….for me to be a proper suitor to her." Raoul swallowed hard, clearing his throat. "I'd prefer, that I be the first to mention this to her…that she not know of my intentions before I can speak with her directly."

Nadir felt both compassion and respect for this man. He could simply have taken Meg under his wing quietly, but he wanted to do what was proper. He was nothing like what he had imagined having talked to Erik. He'd expected a cunning, snobbish bore, but instead had found a man whose heart was wounded, and trying desperately to mend.

"I understand," was all Nadir could say. No doubt Erik would have informed Madame Giry long before Nadir had reached the manor, thus making the point of his promise moot.

Raoul shook Nadir's hand once again, and disappeared inside the carriage, choosing to sit in the seat across from Meg so that she could recline. The coachmen cracked the whip and the carriage lurched forward, on toward Paris.

Nadir and the physician stood beside the animals. "It is a long ride back, and I am afraid there are no rations inside the house. We will have to make the trip swiftly." The doctor mounted his horse and the pair were off toward Courtland Manor.

The winter house sat empty. Blood drying on the floor, canvas and glass strewn about as if a hurricane force gale had passed through. The servants from Courtland Manor would certainly be busy as they traveled there to tidy up after the carnage. The house Erik had never slept in had come to witness such tragedy. It had altered the family that had never lived there, as surely as the events that prevented the baron from ever occupying the Candlelight Inn. Strangely there was a balance set in nature, Christine had Erik, and now Raoul had intentions for Meg, yet nothing seemed normal, for truly it was not.

In the deep woods behind the house was a lone carriage. Inside a young man, all of seventeen wept bitterly. He'd lost his father just two months before, and now his last brother lay dead, affixed like cargo to the bottom of the carriage heading back to Paris. His desperation grew as the reality set in that all his family was now gone. But for the need to seek vengeance on those that deprived him of his family, he would have taken his own life. De Chagny, Courtland, Giry, it didn't matter to him… "blood for blood" he muttered under his breath, wiping the tears from his eyes. Tonight he would rest. Tomorrow he'd find them. One-by-one he'd make them pay.


	80. Mortal Wounds

Chapter 80 Mortal Wounds

Christine sat fidgeting at the kitchen table. Madame Giry had fallen asleep leaning against the pantry door. She looked over at the woman who had been like a mother to her. She could hardly imagine loving or admiring another woman more than she did her. Had she not rescued her when her father died, who knows what would have become of her. Another one of the sad, nameless faces of the children in the orphanage no doubt. Madame Giry had treated Christine with as much love and concern as she had Meg. To love a child that is not your own is a great gift. Now, her own daughter might be in jeopardy, and yet she sat with Christine, worried for her. She rubbed her abdomen. She hoped she could be as good a mother as Madame Giry.

Christine stood up as she heard the sound of horses coming from a distance. The barking dogs always alerted her before one could even see the horses. She hoped fervently for the carriage to come over the crest. She walked out onto the porch, straining her eyes against the faint glare of the morning sun. Her heart caught in her throat. It was two horses, two single riders…no carriage. She went out onto the walk so that she could get a better look as the dogs escorted them into the yard. She could see it was Nadir, and the other man, slightly behind was…the doctor? Where was Erik? Christine started running toward them, pushing open the door of the gate, not caring that she had but slippers on her feet as she trampled through the sloshy snow.

"Christine, do take yourself back inside you'll catch a cold!" Nadir chastised her as he came to a halt at the edge of the gate. "Whatever is wrong dear, you look as if you've seen a ghost?" Nadir thought she might have had another dream, perhaps one involving more than Meg's mere rescue by Raoul.

Christine gasped "where's Erik?"

Nadir went white. He turned feverishly to the doctor commanding, "check the barn."

Christine lurched backwards, grabbing hold of the fence. "He's not, do not tell me that he and Raoul…." Christine felt dizzy.

Nadir dismounted his horse coming to her side. "He met me on the rode in the middle of the night. The doctor and I took the carriage back to the winter house….Erik took my horse and was to return here!"

The doctor was just coming out of the barn, shaking his head side to side. Nadir went rigid. "Christine, we've got to go looking for him. Tell Madame Giry to pack her trunk, she'll be heading back to Paris when we return. Meg is alright, but she's on her way back there now. I've much to explain when I get back, just see to it that Madame Giry is ready."

"Nadir, but what of Meg….is she….was I…." She called after him as he and the doctor headed back down the road that they'd just come in on. Christine ran back to the house. Madame Giry was still sleeping in her chair. Christine rushed to her side shaking her from her slumber.

"What is it child, are you alright?" Madame Giry said frantically trying to focus her eyes.

"Nadir returned, Meg is alright, but is on her way back to Paris. Nadir asks that you pack a trunk as you will be joining her there. You will leave as soon as he returns." With that Christine broke down into sobs, falling into Madame Giry's arms. "Christine, was Meg injured? What has happened to her, please tell me of it!"

Christine sobbed, "Nadir spoke quickly, he said Meg was well, but did not have time to explain….its Erik! He's gone missing! He met Nadir on the road, and exchanged horse for carriage…he should have been back hours ago!"

Madame Giry sat straight up. "We must look for him, we must…" Christine interrupted "Nadir and the doctor have already gone to look. Nadir made me promise that I'd see to it that you have your trunk packed when he returns, as you will be leaving immediately. I tried to ask him questions, but he left before I could." Madame Giry reached out her hand bracing Christine as she had turned pale.

"I feel faint mother…I knew he shouldn't have gone. I knew he wasn't well enough. He was so insistent." Christine sat down, putting her head between her knees trying not to faint. "I love him, I shouldn't have let him go…" She broke down, her body began to jerk at the deep gasping and sobbing that ravaged her.

The kitchen staff peeked out of their doors just off of the kitchen, and decided to stay in their rooms giving Madame Giry and Christine some privacy. All that is except for Sara.

"What is it dear, what troubles you so?" She said coming out to stand by the two women.

Christine reached out grabbing Sara around the shoulders. "Erik's gone missing!" She sobbed.

"Gone missing? Did he go out for a walk in his nightclothes?" Sara was baffled.

"No, he'd gone by carriage…it's difficult to explain….he'd gone to the winter house to look for Meg."

Sara was completely confused now, but set about comforting Christine anyway. She led her over to a chair. Madame Giry watched realizing that Christine was now in capable hands, she said "I'll go pack my trunk, no doubt Nadir will return soon, and I'll need to be prepared." Christine nodded to her.

Sara rubbed Christine's back, encouraging her to breathe. "You've not been well my dear, you need to calm down or you'll worsen your condition."

Christine had not told Sara of her condition, and had no intentions of doing so without Erik's permission. "You're right Sara." Christine tried breathing normally, although it was difficult.

"Now, do tell me why everyone has been up all night, rambling about."

Christine had come to trust Sara, and had a feeling that she could trust her with this too. "I'll try to explain" she said as Sara pulled up a chair next to hers. Christine told of the dream, Nadir's insistence on going to the winter house, Erik following him, Nadir returning, and then leaving again to find Erik. She was quite literally exhausted from reliving the events.

Sara sat rubbing her chin. "I do not know Erik as well as all of you, and perhaps it makes it easier for me to think differently."

"What do you mean?" Christine asked, wiping her face from the new round of tears that swelled as she told the story.

"I do not know Erik's habits, but I do know horses. If Erik was too ill to direct the horse, or had fallen off, or had been taken off the horse, the horse will return to what it knows." Sara said standing up to grab her cloak. "What do you mean Sara?" "We should look back at the winter house. If something happened, the horse would have returned there."

Christine turned her head watching as Sara put on her cloak fastening it at the clasp. "Why would a horse return there, this is its home?" Sara smiled at her, "I just have a sense of it Christine, you'll have to trust me."

Sara lifted her hood and walked toward the door. "I'll be back in no time dear, I'm taking my horse, and going to the winter house. If Nadir and the doctor are on their way there now, I should have company for the return trip!" With that Sara disappeared out the door and into the barn.

Before long Christine saw Sara galloping away on a medium sized brown horse. It wasn't the largest, or most capable steed in the stable, but it suited Sara just fine. Christine sat alone in the kitchen lost in thought. He said Meg was alright, but if she was alright, why did Madame Giry have to travel to Paris to be with her? She had been at the Winter house, but why? Was Raoul even there, or was that just a part of the sorted dream? Why had Nadir taken the carriage, and Erik the horse? Why had they not returned together? It was all rather complicated, and too many questions needed to be answered before she would calm herself. She plopped down once more in the chair by the window. Meg was safe, Madame Giry was leaving, and Erik was missing. She was thankful, sad, and terrified all at the same time.

Soon Madame Giry returned to her in the kitchen. Christine had been pacing the floor. "Do sit, where is Sara, I thought she'd be keeping you company?" Madame Giry had dressed in traveling clothes, her large bag packed now sat by the door.

"She went looking for him." Christine said staring off into the distance. "For Erik?" Madame Giry looked at her confused. "Yes, she's gone to the winter house…she had a feeling the horse would take him back there."

Madame Giry dropped herself into the chair next to Christine's. This had been a very long night. Too many people had left that house, far too few had returned. She looked at Christine and stood to embrace her. "Except for the nights after the fire at the Opera House when we feared you dead, this has been the longest night of my life!" She said, rubbing Christine's back. "It shall all be as it should be, we've little power to change it now, we must be patient."

Christine couldn't help but feel responsible. If she'd just kept her dream to herself, everyone would be waking up in their warm beds, everything would be normal….but what of Meg? No, she couldn't have ignored that feeling…it had been too strong. "Madame Giry, I am sorry for this mess…this entire mess. It has all come to pass because of me!"

"Shhhhh child, you had a dream, what else were you to do but tell us of it?"

"Not just this, not just this….:" she trailed off. "All of this has been because of me. Had I not come to live at the Opera Populaire, none of this would have happened. Erik would still be there. You and Meg would still be there, Nadir would be in Persia. All of this happened…because of me!" Christine started to sob again.

"Christine," Madame Giry said straightening her up into a sitting position, "you know better than anyone that fate cannot be changed. We cannot wish it away, or avoid it, we must simply embrace it. One cannot control what will happen, we simply do our best, and let God take care of the rest. If it was meant to be that all this should come to pass, who are we to judge that it should not be so?"

Christine knew the words were true, though they offered little comfort to her now. They sat holding each other in the kitchen as the morning sun shone through the eastern windows. It was morning….all things looked different in the morning.

XXXX

The horse rambled through the low shrubs down to the river. He'd not been watered or fed in a long while, and now instinct was taking over. He'd grown accustomed to the large slumping weight on his back, but had not been able to rid himself of it even by brushing against tree limbs. It neither clung to him, nor provided direction, it was a useless lump on his back. He nibbled on the grasses that were poking through the snow, and took a long drink from the riverbank before heading back up to the field. It was then that he heard it, barking, barking of dogs. The horse bolted nearly toppling its rider. Erik had secured himself well, and though he sagged from side to side as the horse ran, he was anchored securely in the stirrups. The horse easily out distanced the pack in a few minutes time, and they had given up. Off in the distance was the winter house. The horse looked up and made its way in that general direction.

XXXXX

Nadir and the doctor had been searching for nearly two hours. They'd searched all down by the riverbanks behind Courtland Manor. Had gone through every inch of pasture the horses normal were corralled in. They had been on the road and off the road a dozen times as they retraced the steps that the horse might have taken.

"Nadir, the day is getting long, and the horse has had no rest. Though I do not want to stop, I fear we must if ever so briefly, for the beast's sake."

Nadir found it irritating, he didn't care if the beasts died beneath them, he couldn't lose Erik now, and every hour that passed, the harder it would be to find him. He finally nodded, and the doctor dismounted and walked the horse over to the river for a drink. Nadir did the same.

"I don't understand it. We've retraced nearly back to where we parted ways, and yet no trace of him." The doctor said admonishingly.

Nadir was sick to his stomach. He should have insisted that one of the coachmen ride back with Erik, that he'd done something different, anything different rather than send out a wounded man on a horse. He doubted he'd been robbed, for no evidence of a scuffle was found on their way.

"He must had wandered off somewhere, perhaps he took my suggestion and is laying down." The doctor offered.

"What?" Nadir asked. "He was in much pain, and I gave him a shot to relieve him of some of the discomfort. I admonished him to lay down and rest if he became lightheaded."

"Why did you not mention this before? It is quite possible that he is lying down under some brush, or by a cave, or even perhaps waited behind the winter house for us to leave and went in to lie down. We've been searching all this time, and this just came to you now!"

The doctor was unaccustomed to being addressed in such a manner, but felt ill-prepared to defend himself given the turn of events.

Nadir mounted his horse again. "We've no time to waste watering the horses. Erik could be in grave danger while we sit. We will look at all the possible places he might seek shelter, on the way to and from the winter house. I do hope that Madame Giry is getting ready as we speak. I promised Raoul that we'd be no more than a day behind them, and I'd like to keep that promise!" The doctor mounted his horse again and they were off.

XXXX

Sara pushed on. It had been a long while since she'd ridden a horse this way, but it felt liberating. She'd been to the winter house only twice, and that was to retrieve items that had been stored there. It seemed so much work to maintain two residences, one for the two seasons, but it was not for her to say. She'd been scanning the horizon on both sides, looking for any sign of life, or of the horse. Having found none, she pressed on to the winter house. If she made it that far, and had found nothing, she would leave it up to the men to search, as it was far to dangerous for a woman to be out in the woods alone.

XXXXXX

The horse pushed his way through the gate, plodding up next to the house where it had rested before. He wandered around the yard, munching on whatever he could find. The horse brushed up against one of the larger shrubs that were along side the house, causing a large clump of melting snow to deposit itself directly on Erik. Erik startled at the sudden rush of cold on his skin. He was slumped over making it difficult to breathe. He tried opening his eyes barely making out his surroundings as he started to wake from the powerful medicine that had left his faculties quite altered. He could hear rustling and then heard a door open and close.

"Sir, are you alright….sir…..sir…" he felt a hand nudging his side. He groaned. "Let me help you down from that horse, you've been bleeding, there's blood on your lips, come inside." The young man pulled Erik's feet out of the stirrups, and unwound his cloak. He pulled Erik's arms out from beneath the saddle, and unwound the horse's reins. "How did you become so entwined?" the boy said disgustedly as he unwound everything that had held Erik so precariously to the beast. At last he was free, and nearly toppled over onto the boy as he struggled to get to his feet.

"Come inside, rest…I'll" the boy stopped. He didn't know quite what he would do for the man. It wasn't his house, he had no medical training, and he himself was an unwelcome guest there. Perhaps he'd leave the man and fetch someone from town on his way back to Paris. No one would be looking for him, so he could travel quite freely now in his brother's carriage.

Glass and broken wood, and ripped canvas crunched under foot as the boy brought Erik to rest on the couch. Erik still could not focus his eyes, but was thankful he was no longer on the horse. He felt sick to his stomach, and every inch of him ached wildly.

"Sir, have you a name sir?" Erik just mumbled inaudibly. The boy sat down next to him. Perhaps he could rob him, but what little could a man like this be carrying? He thought better of it, deciding instead to let the man have some peace. He himself was going to go upstairs and get some rest. No one would be coming back here anytime soon he thought to himself, so he'd best take advantage of the warm shelter while he could. The next days were likely to be difficult ones.

Erik lay passing in and out of consciousness as he fought to focus his eyes and clear the cloud from his mind. He had been on the horse, he remembered wrapping himself tightly to the beast not wanting to stop…he could remember nothing else after that until the last few minutes. It had indeed been unwise to continue, but he'd felt he had little choice. He had no idea where he was, or what boy had been speaking to him. He only knew he was alive, and not at all at home. They would no doubt be worrying, but he was in no condition to alter his present situation. He would rest until he could focus his eyes, and stand on his own. He would thank the young man for his hospitality and be on his way. That was the best he could manage for now.

XXXXXX

Sara had nearly lost her way, and had it not been for the landmark of the barn that had been falling down, she feared she would have been lost entirely. Just ahead was what she thought she remember of the winter house. It was surrounded by a large fenced yard, and she could see the shell of an elaborate garden in the back. "That has to be it, it has the large willow in the front." Sara said to herself.

She'd nearly set her mind on the fact that she would find nothing there, but at the very least, she'd be able to bring back some sort of information regarding the condition of the house, and if she'd found any evidence of what might have gone on last night. Christine and Madame Giry would certainly be most interested in anything she could tell them.

As she rounded the front of the house, she was at once confused, and relieved to see a horse standing out front. She thought its markings looked familiar, perhaps out of their own stable. If it was not Erik's horse, she was uncertain who would be there now. She took out her husband's pistol that she'd brought with her, and slowly made her way up the steps and to the door. The latch was not done, and it pushed open with ease.

"Hello?" Sara called out feebly, "is there anyone here?" She heard a groan off the left in what she remembered to be the parlor. She walked in further, gasping in horror at the large pool of blood beside the piano, the broken glass, the bits of fabric, and part of a torn corset, that lay strewn about on the floor. Something tragic had happened here, and it terrified her to see what might be producing the moaning she heard. She cocked her gun, ready to shoot if she needed to. She slowly crept around the corner, peering into the room.

There he was, sprawled out on the divan. "Thank heavens you are alive! They've been so worried for you!" Sara exclaimed rushing over to Erik's side. "Sara?" Erik recognized her voice through the haze.

"Yes, yes, it is me Monsier Courtland. I must get that cleaned up, your lip, your face, it's caked with dried blood, wherever did you get that scrape on your forehead?" Erik could only groan. Sara went to the kitchen to retrieve a washbasin and some linen.

"Courtland?" the boy, who had observed Sara's entrance and subsequent conversation muttered to himself. "I brought in the very man I've mind to kill? It is a good day!" He looked around the room. Surely a fireplace poker, an ornamental sword, something could be used. This family had killed his father. Surely that is why his brother had come to this house, had agreed to carry Meg, so as to learn of its location just the day before. There could be no mistake, that simply must be him.

He moved back toward the drawing room, scanning the shelves, the floors with his eyes. He could hear the woman in the kitchen rummaging through the cupboards. Then, his eyes caught site of it. "Perfect!" Sara had laid the gun aside on the table not five feet from Erik. He would have to be swift, but he was confident that he could secure the gun, fire the killing shot, and be out the door and on the horse before the woman could come from the kitchen. He could hear Erik groaning, trying to sit up. If he was to do it, he'd need to do it now.

The pace of his heart quickened, he could feel the blood and adrenaline racing through his veins. How fitting it seemed that his first kill would be to avenge the death of his father. He walked swiftly and quietly over to the table where the gun lay. Lifting it slowly he felt for the trigger and looked to be certain that the bullet was in the chamber. He needed to be nearly silent so he turned ever so slowly around now walking toward the man that lay on the couch. It was almost too easy to feel any victory in it. He was focused, and poised as he came to within feet of the man.

Erik was straining to focus his eyes. He could make out a form and he could see something in his hand. It was the cock of the gun that made Erik realize what was about to happen, he could do nothing to stop it. He heard the boy say "my father was Joseph, it is because of your family that he is now dead. It was your wife who shot him. She took something that I loved from me, now it is my turn to take something that she loves from her…blood for blood!"

He held up the pistol, pointing it at Erik's head. Closing his eyes he pulled the trigger. A large groan and then a thud. He felt something warm splatter on his cheek and on his shoe. He couldn't look, he simply turned and ran out of the house, mounted the horse that had been tied outside and rode away. He'd go off to retrieve the carriage in the woods. He'd leave the horse free there, he couldn't take the chance of being caught with it. As he road away, he wiped the splattered blood from his face on his sleeve. He wanted to be proud, but he was not, part of him ached at the thought of taking a life….even in the name of revenge.

**Author's Notes:**

**Captain Oblivious**: Yes, lemon jello, plump blueberry's floating in it like little blue angels, topped with Devonshire cream! Hey, if you have to be locked up in that suit, mind if I steal your dessert! Yikes, no sword, but I think I just saw you flash your fangs at me…..you haven't seen Dracula yet, and you're already acting the part! Yes, you're going to cry…sorry. Don't forget to watch the bonus feature on the DVD. You'll get to see Gerry getting ready for his role! I don't want to spoil the surprise, but let's just say I'd not mind being an employee of the costume department!

Meg and Raoul, love, or is it maybe a shared sympathy that masquerades as love due to the unmitigated tragedy? Perhaps they've been driven into each other's arms by a force as powerful as love…grief. Hmmmm…. Time will only tell if the love is true. I've often wondered what will happen if Raoul ever finds out what Meg has been hiding from him…maybe the secret will go with her to her grave…or maybe not.

Hope you enjoy the next chapters…you're probably going to want to lash out at me again…..thank heavens you're properly restrained in that straight jacket…..uh oh….I think I just saw someone changing their coats from white to black….I think you're in trouble now….. grabs dessert and makes a run for it

**PhantomFan13:** Yes, I own Timeline. I didn't mind seeing Gerry in that at all, he was a wonderful addition to the cast, although he didn't get as much screen time as I would have liked. He was a hero…and at least in this movie he got the girl! I didn't like seeing him lose his ear, but the look on his face when he realized that he was the knight that he'd found lying next to Lady Claire at the excavation site…well, that look was priceless. He'd found the love of his life….and that always makes me happy! The ending was sad because they were all parted, but at least they got to find out what happened to Merek, that he'd lived a long life and named his children after them! ;-)

Now back to POTO! Yes, it has the potential to get quite complicated. Everyone is out in the woods, traveling back and forth. Christine feels guilty for having started the whole mess. It sort of gives us a nudge to follow our gut instincts…if something feels wrong…it probably is. Now, with Christine's "gift" of dreams, her life will never be simple again…of course….being married to the Phantom…she probably never expected it to be! I'm glad you liked the chapters so far. I have to tell you that I jumped up and down writing them, so I'm happy to hear someone shares my sentiment! I hope you like the next ones, though I cannot promise that Erik will be safe!

**AJNemo:** Welcome home! Yes, the chapters have come fast and furious! I try for two a day, Monday through Friday, so a couple of weeks would bring on a flurry of new chaps. I am as faithful to a story as I am to my friends and family. I could not abandon it unless I'm hit by a truck! Hope you enjoy the chapters as you catch up with Christine and Erik!


	81. Unforeseen

Chapter 81 Unforseen 

Madame Giry and Christine sat impatiently in the kitchen. The maids had come and gone from the kitchen, preparing breakfast, and tidying up. It had been a long morning and it was nearing the time for them to prepare for lunch. The coffee was cold in their cups, and they'd abandoned their uneaten breakfast on their plates. Madame Giry's traveling cloak was now deposited on the chair. "Whatever is taking them so long?" Christine said, a bit of quiet distain in her voice. Madame Giry just shook her head from side to side.

"Nadir and the physician have been up all night. No doubt they are tired, their horses weary. I don't think they took anything with them for provisions." Madame Giry said looking out of the window at the length of muddy road that led off the property.

Christine was so very tired. She felt weak, and yet the tone in Madame Giry's voice, and the lingering question that she'd wanted to ask her recently hung in the air. "Madame Giry, you have grown rather fond of Nadir, haven't you?"

Madame Giry spun around on her heels looking at Christine. "Christine he has become a trusted friend, a companion, during our time here. He knew things that we did not about this place, and we knew things about Erik's life that Nadir never knew of. We've spent quite a lot of time together…"

Christine felt a small smile cross her face. "But you've grown rather fond of him haven't you?"

Madame Giry turned back looking out the window. "I suppose I have. He is an interesting man, rather pleasant, and kind to a fault." She said her face never changing expression. "But it is of no matter. We shall soon part ways and it will all be forgotten."

Christine sensed a tinge of sorrow in her voice. "Madame Giry, it is not my place to say," Christine paused "but if you love him…"

Madame Giry turned abruptly looking harshly at Christine. "Love is a luxury I can ill afford at this point in my life. Our family is more important that anything to me….Nadir…would only make things even more complicated."

Christine sighed. She was indeed much younger than Madame Giry….but she understood complicated relationships.

"I've no desire to wait any longer. I'm going to the stable." Madame Giry put on her cloak and walked out of the door. Christine following closely on her heels.

"Madame Giry, whatever are you suggesting?" Christine half fearing she'd take a horse, and yet another part of the family would be missing.

"Do not worry child, I'm fetching the last carriage. Go and get your cloak" she looked down "and some proper shoes. We'll be off to the winter house in a few minutes."

Christine felt a sudden burst of energy. Yes, she was still tired, but anything was preferable to the utter torturous agony of waiting in that house for another minute! Sara would be at the winter house no doubt, and she could ride back with them in the carriage. With any fortune at all, they would all be back together at the manor for lunch. She'd mention that to the kitchen staff. Yes, they should prepare a large lunch for early afternoon.

Christine found herself running up the stairs, grabbing the hand of her most trusted maid on her way. "Now, I want you to put together a basket for Madame Giry and I, then begin preparations for…" Christine gave her instructions as she hurriedly dressed in something more suitable, and put on a sturdy pair of shoes. She was down the stairs and grabbing her cloak just as the carriage appeared at the door beside the kitchen. Madame Giry opened the door, and Christine ducked in, basket in hand. "Now Maria, do see that all is ready when we return. There will be many hungry mouths to feed when you see us next." She paused, "and do not bother to grind food for Mr. Courtland today, I think he should prefer to eat with the rest of us." Maria nodded, and closed the door on the carriage. The driver cracked his whip, and they were off.

XXXX

Erik groaned. He'd heard the gunshot, felt a spattering of wet cross his face. He'd heard a thud, trampling footsteps as they crossed the floor, a slamming door, and then silence. He hadn't felt an entry wound, he felt no additional pain, and wondered if it had all been an elaborate hallucination.

He blinked his eyes anxiously. They were slowly coming back into focus. The ceiling looked a bit familiar, and it took but a moment for him to realize where he was. Erik had painted that ceiling himself, his trademark musical notes, and winged angels in the corner confirmed his suspicion. He was at the winter house. How his horse had arrived there, he did not know.

What he did know was that Joseph's son had been there, and had intended to kill him, but something had gone wrong, for Erik felt nothing. Erik glanced around, no one was standing in the room, the boy must have fled. But what of Sara?

"Sara?" Erik called out in the loudest voice he could muster. Nothing. "Sara, he is gone now, do come out, I've much to ask you!"

Erik heard a groan coming from the floor next to where he lay on the divan. He pulled himself to a half-sitting position. The horror of what he saw, undid him. It was one thing to see a man, downed in the heat of battle, but quite another thing entirely to see a woman mortally wounded.

"Sara!" Erik held his middle, rolling himself with great pain, down onto his knees on the floor next to her. He rubbed at his eyes as he focused on her. She had a large wound in her mid-section, it was bleeding profusely. Sara's eyes were open, but had taken on a distant sort of gaze….a gaze Erik knew well.

"Sara! Stay with me Sara….whatever did you do?" Sara looked up at him as Erik cradled her head in his hands.

"Erik…." She began through labored breath, "he was going to kill you, surely kill you…"

"Shhhh…save your breath, I'll go fetch…" his own words drying in his throat, for he knew it would be an effort in futility.

"Erik, tell my children I love them….will you?"

Erik nodded "I shall do my best dear lady," he said, dampness forming in corners of his eyes.

"He was going to kill you Erik, I heard his words….my sister…my sister Ruth and I….we couldn't save you when you were a boy…..I promised….promised…that if I could ever save you….ever found you again….that I would help you……help you." A raspy gasp came from her throat as she continued, "love Christine Erik, love her dearly…give them a kiss for me." She reached up her hand feebly caressing Erik's right cheek, "its perfect now, God has smiled on you….." her voice trailed off, her hand dropped to the ground with a sickening thud, her body went limp, and her stare faded to blank.

Erik began to sob, resting his head on Sara's chest, pulling her lifeless body to him, he cradled her in his arms. This woman had given her life to protect him…..something not even his own mother would have done. "No….no…." Erik sat rocking her back and forth. She'd worried for him all those years, had just found him several months ago, and now…and now…..

XXXXXX

Meg sat quietly resting in the carriage as it rattled on toward Paris. She and Raoul hadn't exchanged so much as a word the entire time they'd traveled. She watched out of the corner of her eye as his expressions had gone from relief, to anger, to tears, to desperation, back to relief again. She could only imagine where his thoughts had taken him.

She thought herself about what must be going on now at Courtland Manor. Surely Christine would be distraught, her mother no doubt had clamored into a carriage with Nadir and was already on their heels sick with worry. Meg thought about Erik. The last she had really spoken with him was months ago, when they had been at the Candlelight Inn. It had been a fleeting conversation really, he had put his arm around her shoulders, hugging her as a sister, telling her that everything would soon be right with the world, that they would be safe, and out of harms way to enjoy one another's company. Oh how she had wanted to believe him.

He had been a legend really. Infallible, untouchable, indestructible. She'd come to know him as so much more, and yet so much less as she watched as the merciless bullet and ensuing complications had almost claimed his life. He was a man yes, but so much more than a man. She closed her eyes saying a prayer that he would not suffer too much from having made the journey to see to her wellbeing.

She glanced back over at Raoul. He'd finally fallen off to sleep. He looked weary. Yes, she felt weary too, but she thought about all that he had dealt with in the last hours, all he had come to terms with. She felt both love and respect for him. Had he not come to her aide, she wouldn't be here with him now. Meg lost herself in thought. Not the typical daydreams of a young woman in love, rather the complicated thoughts of how all the pieces of this fragmented puzzle would fit into place. It would not be easy. She would be parted from Christine and Erik for long periods. To see them, she would have to lie to Raoul. The truth was so harsh, but so much less cruel than the deception would be. But too many lives hung in the delicate balance of the altered reality she would have to live in. Yes, there would be love….but there would never truly be peace.

Meg nodded off. She'd not slept soundly for several days, and the exertions from the previous evening's events had drained her of what little energy she had. The carriage was warm, and the make-shift bed that Raoul had fashioned was comfortable.

Soon she was deep asleep, her dreams returning to her. Meg was wandering through the long halls of the winter house. It was storming outside and the crashing thunder and flashes of lightening, reminded her of something she'd read once in the works of Edgar Allan Poe. She could see many doors slamming open and shut as the house rattled in the merciless grip of the storm.

She heard screaming, then abruptly, all was silent. The flashes of lights, and the thunder rumbled, but the walls inside were calm. The walls of the house were stained a blood red, silky black curtains fluttered up and down with each gust of heated wind. At the end of the long door-lined hallway she could see him…slowly walking toward her. Each flash of lightening illuminated his steps and made it seem like he was traveling in segments rather than with the fluidity of human movement.

Suddenly, one by one, the doors began to open. A form would appear behind it before it promptly slammed shut. First she saw Raoul, he was bloodied, a noose about his neck. Next came Christine, a frightening pale on her face, her eyes looking dark and dead, a limp fetus in her arms. The man moved ever closer as he passed each door it slammed open and shut. Next was Erik, bandaged heavily, his face now entirely deformed, as if melted under the strength of a great heat. Then Sara, a gaping hole in her middle, blood trickling from her mouth, her face expressionless. The final door held the most horror, an intense shrieking could be heard before her mother's face appeared, she was crying, reaching out for Meg….

A final deafening clap of thunder and a white-hot flash of light and the man was upon her. It was Ronaldo but he had fangs and claws where his hands had been. He was shredding her…shredding her clothing, her skin, clawing at her like a monster…she tried to scream but nothing would come out….she was dying, she knew she was dying……

Meg jumped, as she felt the actual touch on her skin. "Meg! Meg!" Raoul was shaking her. "You must wake up Meg, you're having a nightmare…WAKE UP!"

She shuddered, her form going limp into Raoul's arms. She was sweating her bandages covered in a sticky film as she had been lashing about with her hands.

"Raoul….it was terrible…he was…you were….the noise was so loud, the blackness, the lightening…"

Raoul lifted her into his arms, putting her in his lap, he sat down on her side of the carriage. "Meg dear, it was a dream, I am here to protect you, he is gone…it is just a dream." Raoul shuddered at his own words. It had only been months before that he'd made Christine the same promise….and had failed to keep it. He had to stop thinking about the events that he could not change in the past, and start living in the present…the past was dead. The present held a living, breathing creature that needed him.

He lowered his lips to Meg's forehead, placing a delicate, reassuring kiss on her skin. She lay in his arms breathing heavily endeavoring to regain a normal calm. She ran her hands over each bandage. The wounds feeling freshly hewn, though not by man's hands, but the recurring terrors of her mind.

Every time she closed her eyes she could smell his breath, feel his hands on her flesh, sense the rage that drove him. Her eyes flew back open. "I must not sleep, I must not think….hold me Raoul….hold me close."

He pulled her closer to him, covering her with his cloak. Yes he saw the scrapes, the blood, the newly forming bruises, but mostly he saw Meg for the young, innocent woman she was, and that touched his heart.

Soon they would be back in Paris. His private physician could administer something to help her sleep without dreams. Raou'l needed a brandy, and a long rest himself. There was much to think about.

He looked down at the dried blood on his hands. In his focused concern for Meg, he'd forgotten to wash away the vile reminder. One hand wandered to the sheath that contained the weapon he'd employed to put an end to the man that rode lifeless beneath the carriage. Rest would not come for hours for him as matters needed sorting out. There were many questions to be answered to the authorities, no doubt his father could be of assistance there. He leaned back resting his head against the side of the carriage. This had been a day he wished he could erase from this earth, but it was not within his realm. The past months had reminded him dearly of how precious little power he had to alter the course of fate.


	82. Found and Lost

**Chapter 82 Found and Lost**

The carriage clattered down the road. Christine and Madame Giry had long since stopped talking as each conversation wandered back to the questions that both had, but neither knew the answers to. Silence was more soothing. Christine watched as the landscape changed from the soft first blooms of impending spring, to the muddy fields, to the snow covered ground that now was beneath the carriage. It still amazed her how very different the weather was just a few hours away from the sea. When the sea was warming, everything came to life. When the winds of winter blew, the sea became angry, bitter gusts of frosty salt covered the land, sending the household off to the deep tree sheltered refuge of the winter house. How she longed to raise her…no…their children there.

She closed her eyes reliving the dreams of watching Erik run along the beach with the little girl with dark flowing hair. The dream had become so refined, so highly tuned now that she could almost feel the breeze from the sea on her face, taste the salt on her lips, smell the flowers that bloomed on the edge grasses, and feel the sand beneath her feet. She could hear their laughter, and the sweet small voice saying "daddy, tell me again, sing it for me again…" How she'd come to this dream she couldn't be entirely certain, but it comforted her in times of trouble now, as if it were an old reassuring friend. She smiled as she replayed it over and over in her mind.

Madame Giry sat glancing out the window. Yes, she was scanning the fields, but was keenly aware that the sentries that sat in the seat with the driver would have a much better view, and would be more likely than she to observe anything that looked out of the ordinary. She pulled her cloak closer around her. The temperature had dropped, the further they'd moved away from the sea. She found herself wishing she'd put on her woolen dress before they left, but there had been no time to change.

She reached into the basket that the maids had prepared for them. Feeling a bit light headed from lack of nourishment, as they had not even touched their breakfast that morning. Though she had no appetite, she knew if she did not eat something that Christine would not, and she needed to keep after her to do so for the sake of the child.

"Here, my dear, have a bit of this cheese, and an apple." Madame Giry said, holding it out to Christine. Though her eyes were closed, she knew she wasn't sleeping.

Christine barely opened her eyes, "I'm not really very hungry yet," she said as the carriage jostled them about. The ruts in the road grew deeper, evidence of the thawing and freezing, thawing and re-freezing that was so common this time of year. "This incessant bouncing I fear has me a bit queasy." She'd hoped that this would satisfy Madame Giry, but the look on her face, and the insistence of her hand indicated she would not accept that answer.

Christine took the apple, passing on the cheese. "Thank you." She mindlessly raised it to her lips, taking the first bite, juices running down her chin. It was sweet, crunchy, and perhaps just right to settle her stomach. A brief, fleeting thought passed through her mind, it reminded her of the sweet peaches that she and Erik had shared in the deep recesses of the cave…seemingly a lifetime ago….and she smiled.

Madame Giry quietly nibbled on a few short bread cookies. A cup of hot tea would be welcome for the warmth as well as the drink, but the road was far too unsettled to permit it.

"Mother, what do you think might have happened to them? Why would Meg be going back to Paris, and why in the world was she at the winter house so early? It is all so very confusing to me."

Madame Giry brushed the crumbs from her lap. "Child, there are so many questions the answers to which elude me. I can but only hope that we find everyone at the winter house, safe and sound."

Christine didn't even need to say a word, the silence indicated that she concurred.

Suddenly there was a rap on the top of the carriage. "I see something! Over there…in the distance, see there…there!" Madame Giry pressed her face against the glass of the window, her breath fogging it slightly she wiped her glove-covered hand across it to catch a better view.

"What do they see?" Christine said fervently, trying to glimpse out the window on the other side of the carriage. "I don't know, perhaps it is beyond our view." Madame Giry responded a tone of desperation in her voice. They'd not said what they saw, but rather THAT they saw something. She began to rap on the roof herself, indicating that she wished to stop, but the carriage lurched forward instead, moving faster than she feared the carriage would tolerate.

Christine grabbed the side of the carriage as she was nearly thrown to the floor, the apple plunged from her hand to the floor of the carriage with a thud, rolling about as the carriage was tossed to and fro. "What is it?" she said a fright overcoming her.

They continued in that manner for several long minutes before the carriage began to slow, and then came to a stop. Madame Giry wasn't going to wait for the courtesy of an escort, she flung the door open, pulling her skirt up into her hands she made her way out of the carriage. Christine decided to do the same, her heart pounding, what was it…who was it. Then she heard Madame Giry call out "Nadir, thank God you are alright, have you found him?" Christine's heart sunk, and she slumped back into the seat. Erik was not with them.

XXXXXXX

Erik had pulled a large canvas from the piano to cover Sara. Though it wasn't for her comfort, he'd put a pillow under her head, and wiped the blood from her face. His fear that the boy would return had long since passed, as all had been quiet for hours. Erik's mind was quite clear now, and the focus had returned to his eyes. He'd had morphine before, but this had somehow had a more powerful affect than what he'd remembered. His side ached, and his arms felt sore, but the use of them was returning, though they weren't strong, they would respond without conscious thought.

Erik sighed. He'd have to get back on that horse if he had any hope of returning to the manor before night set in. He didn't want to disrespect Sara's remains, but knew he could do nothing more for her without a carriage and some assistance.

He glanced over at her, as the memory of the first time he'd seen her flooded back into his mind. It was one of the few memories of his childhood that weren't filled with horror, one of the few random acts of kindness that had kept him sane, kept him believing that people could be good, that not everyone was cruel and heartless. He was saddened as he realized he'd never thanked her, that he'd not talked to her at the manor, asked her how she'd come to be there, or how her sister was. He only hoped now that someone would help him keep his last promise to her. He didn't know her children, or even her last name, or much less how he would find them, but Erik would do it. He always….always….kept his promises.

He pulled himself up on the divan, regrouping before he would attempt to stand. The pain in his side nearly made him buckle, but he was relieved upon examining the bandages, that no blood or even hint of it showed through. He had worried that in all of the activity that he might have reopened one of the wounds, but he had not.

Erik's hand traveled up to his face. "She said it was perfect now." He muttered to himself. It seemed that everyone but he knew the whole story, and watched the process, had thought of it as a blessing. He rubbed the skin carefully tracing each inch.

How had this improved his circumstances? It had not. A loyal friend lay dead at his feet. His Meg had been harmed, to what extent he could not even say, and now an assassin was somewhere out there in the woods. A perfect face had not wrought a perfect life. The irony of that thought astounded him. He was the same Erik on the inside, and it mattered little what he looked like on the outside. How he had imagined it would change everything and yet it did not. Yet her words haunted him… "perfect, God has smiled on you"…… It mattered little what he was like on the outside, or what he was like on the inside now. It would be what he did now, that would define him.

XXXXX

Nadir and the physician had traded their mounts with the sentries for the comfort of the carriage. Although the ride was bumpy, it was a welcome relief for the two weary men who'd not slept for hours.

Christine sat quietly as Nadir had explained, in gruesome detail, Meg's injuries to Madame Giry. The pain in her eyes made Christine wish she'd been asleep to be spared from it. "Meg will be quiet healthy again, if she is properly cared for," the physician assured her. "I simply do not understand why she was there, why she'd left Paris." Nadir wished now that the physician was not in their company for there was so much more he had to tell both of these women, but the present company prevented it.

"Whoa……" the carriage slowed as they pulled to the side of the fence at the winter house. Christine leaned near the window "that is the horse that Sara took this morning!" she was a bit excited to see it there, for Sara wouldn't have stayed without reason. "I implore you to help me from this carriage, he has to be here, he simply has to be!"

Christine was nearly climbing over the top of the others making her way to the door. The coachman had already come to the side of the carriage to open the door when Christine grasped the handle, nearly falling out into his arms. She ran towards the house "Erik! Erik…..ERIK!" She stumbled up the stairs, throwing open the door, flooding the foyer with sunlight.

She gasped, reeling back into Madame Giry's arms as she had been right behind her. The women stood looking into the rooms that they could see from the door. Broken glass, ripped fabric, torn canvas, and blood, splattered everywhere that they could see, a dark pool trailing off into the parlor.

Madame Giry slowly began to back out of the door, pulling Christine with her down the stairs. Nadir had been searching the yard….Erik's horse was not there, he could but wonder what caused Madame Giry to begin to scream. Nadir pushed passed the women, the doctor rushed to them to steady them as Madame Giry began to weep. Having a wider view than Christine had, she had seen Sara's shoes on the floor, next to a pool of blood, and Erik, draped across the divan, a splattering of blood covering his clothing.

Nadir walked carefully into the house, gun at the ready. He ventured inch by inch over the broken glass, and the fresh pool of blood, that had not been there when last he passed through that door. Something more had happened. He saw lights flash before him, the clashing of swords, the shrill cries of lives coming to a bitter end, the lashing of whips… For those that had been witness to the carnage that he had in his lifetime, the flashbacks came during even their waking moments. Unlike nightmares, they haunted every thought, every moment they threatened the sanity of those who were doomed to carry them. The sight of the puddles of blood brought Nadir to a place and time he'd tried hard to forget…that he'd prayed Erik could forget too.

His senses were on edge as he turned the last corner, bringing the parlor into full view. He saw, as Madame Giry had, the horror that lay there. No doubt Sara had died first, Erik having covered her before succumbing to the same fate. His heart plunged as he thought of the final moments of his dear friend. He'd come back to them, only for them to lose him forever. Even in his unconscious state they had his body, now they would be deprived of even that.

Christine gasped as she heard Nadir shrieking, and yelling at the top of his lungs. Then all went silent. Christine's head was swimming, she saw spots of light, her heart thumping in her throat, and then she lurched forward and to the ground before the doctor could catch her.

Madame Giry dropped to her knees, bringing Christine's head to rest in her lap. "I'll fetch my smelling salts from the…" Madame Giry waived the doctor off. "It is best that she not see this…go to help Nadir," she said in a choked voice.

The doctor walked into the house. The scene was far more gruesome in the full light of day. Though he'd been a physician's assistance during the war, and been on the front lines witnessing much, there was something so much more unsettling to see the likes of this inside a home. Such treachery did not belong there.

Nadir had walked over to the dining room table and was pulling the cover from it, intending to use it for Erik. The doctor moved passed Sara, the blood coming through the canvas telling him all he really needed to know. He knelt next to Erik. He had been his pride and joy as a physician. So much had happened with this man, and he'd come to love him in an odd sort of way. He studied the cheek with his eyes, stopping as he saw the slightest movement of Erik's chest. Yes, his breathing was shallow, but it was there.

"Nadir! Come quickly, he's alive! He breathes!" Nadir dropped the cloth from his hand, running back into the parlor. "Come, help me lay him down on the floor!" Nadir kicked at the chair, a loud scraping noise as he pushed it out of his way. They pair pulled Erik down to the floor, laying him flat.

The doctor quickly examined the areas where he saw blood, but there were no wounds. "This is not his blood." The doctor leaned his back against the wall. Nadir was still perched on his knees above Erik's head. "The medicine would have worn off by now, even the dose that he insisted he have…"

Nadir looked at him curiously. He leaned down to look more closely at Erik, "my friend, why is it that you sleep again?" Then Nadir though he heard something. "Erik! Erik!" Nadir began tapping at his cheek. "Wake up!" Erik groaned. Nadir leaned to within an inch of Erik's face, and then he grinned. His eyes wandered up to the divan, and then scoured the tables on either side. There it was, the bottle of brandy that Nadir would have looked for earlier. It was empty, and Nadir had a good suspicion of where it had gone.

The circumstances were such that a pin could have pierced the air, heaving a great belch of hot gases into the skies. And yet, the pressure was released as Nadir began to laugh. It was so out of place, so out of character, and yet so appropriate. "This man is drunk not dead!" Nadir said to the physician.

"What? He's not to mix liquor with morphine it could kill him!" "My dear sir, Erik has done a great many things in this life that would have killed many a man, and lived to tell of it. He's not had a drink in years!" Nadir was relieved for Erik's sake, for Christine's sake, for his own sake. They'd have to sober him up to find out what events had taken place, and why Sara was now dead. It might be hours before he would wake. "Let us put him back on the divan, so he won't be as stiff when he wakes." The doctor nodded and the two men moved him once more to the cushions.

"Now, what are we to do with Sara? The poor woman needs a proper burial." The doctor reached up pulling the canvas from her face. She was stiff and cold to the touch, no doubt dead for hours. "Let us wrap her up in the canvas, and bring her to the maid's quarters at the back of the house. They carefully picked her up, wrapping her in several canvas cloths and carried her to the back. The authorities would have to be contacted, but that would have to wait. Nadir searched the kitchen until he found a bucket and several mops. He and the doctor went about mopping up the floors as best they could, sweeping up the glass, and other debris.

Madame Giry waited patiently outside. She was trying to think of what she would say to Christine when she woke. She would have to take her back to Paris with her. They would have to make up a story about finding Christine, something plausible. The fact that she was with child would have to be explained. Raoul would have to decide what to do. It would all be very difficult for them.

No doubt Nadir could take care of Erik's final affairs. She cradled Christine's head. "Dear sweet child, what shall become of all of us?" She found herself wishing that she'd never gone to visit the gypsies when they visited Paris. If she'd not found Erik, helped him escape, none of this would have happened. For what kind of life had he really known? What had she done to the child she'd thought she was saving from the orphanage when her father died? It was frightening how her choices, made so many years ago, had affected so many people.

Madame Giry looked up as Nadir and the doctor made their way out of the house. "I'm quite afraid it is still a bit of a mess, but I think it is safe for the two of you to come in now. Can you stand?" Nadir was extending his hand to Madame Giry. She shook her head, reaching out and grabbing his hand.

"Please, I do not want Christine to see this, please monsieur, take her to the carriage, she cannot see that house." The doctor reached down for Christine's feet, and Nadir slid his hands under Christine's shoulders, as the doctor helped him hoist her into his arms. "My dear, it is safe for you to follow us, you must be exhausted." Nadir carried Christine toward the house.

"Nadir, please, she cannot be allowed to…" The doctor went to Madame Giry. "He is alive, quite intoxicated I'm afraid, fool mixed brandy with his morphine!" The doctor took her by the arm leading her toward the house. "Sara is another matter, she is gone…" Madame Giry having already known that by what she had observed, nodded. They disappeared into the house, closing the door.

**Author's notes: **

Chapters are quite long, sorry if they seem to run on. I'm trying to limit the "cliffies", but now I don't know quite where to end the chapters!

**Captain Oblivious**: Too late, the lemon jello and blueberries were swiftly consumed…sorry to say, you're stuck with chocolate pudding…something Meg would be eating right about now….and something you can enjoy through a straw since you find your hands quite restrained!

Ah, I see you figured me out…Sara indeed…I always knew she'd play a special part in his life. Though his mother tossed him out on the street, women in his life have risen to the occasion and provided what he needed most, at the precise moments he needed it! Who said it has to be family that has the most profound affects on you…it might very well be the life of a stranger that saves you! After all, Gerry has women's hearts beating all over the globe…even women who'd nearly forgotten they had a heart!

Perhaps this Halloween you shall have to be the Phantom! Although….after you see Dracula, you may choose to keep your fangs…..no….the mask will still win out…although you get to wear a cape either way…..darn…a "desert island" quandary indeed!

**PhantomFan13**: Do not worry my dear, I shall not kill Erik, though one can never tell what the villainous characters are up to in this story. I'm sorry if I've been depriving you of sleep. I myself was up until 2:00 A.M. writing future chapters….I'm something of a non-reformable nightowl. I must live in the light to earn a living, but I really am alive when it is dark outside and the rest of the world is sleeping….it's no wonder that I love POTO!

Ah, as for what and when Raoul will come to know, I cannot say, resolution of those most difficult problems still elude us. If Raoul was to find out now, it could irrevocably alter fate, and fate has it's own plan. Hope you enjoy the next chapters. Though not everything is tidied up, it should leave you breathing just a bit easier.

**Christine de Nuit**: It wasn't meant to be evil…so sorry about being gone on vacation. At least the anticipation should make coming back from vacation a little easier. I hope you enjoy the updates when you return!

**Stellalorelia**: Welcome to the family! I'm so happy you've found the story. It was your sentiment exactly that started me on this journey. The story of the POTO is such a gothic romance, and in the depths of my heart I just felt it ended wrong… I simply had to re-write it for my own sanity's sake. I connected with this story on a very personal level, and it would not let me rest. I too searched a few stories never finding one that I really connected with. That's when I decided to try my hand at it. This has been something of a journey for me. I felt a twinge when I read your review. I consider it to be the highest compliment an author can receive to be compared to Dickens. I floated like a little butterfly all night after I read your words. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. I must tell you it was a bit eerie, because you could not have known, but I've included a reference to a number of Dickens' works in a future chapter, and had done so long before your message….it confirmed in my mind that I wasn't crazy for interjecting those literary references! I hope you enjoy the next chapters. I'll faithfully update, as long as there are faithful readers out there!


	83. Unsettled night

Chapter 83 Unsettled night 

The maid huffed as she finished putting away the remains of the dinner that had gone uneaten. The table was still set, in case they were merely late in returning. They'd eaten the vegetables, but the roasted meats were resting in a pot over a very low fire. If they didn't return tonight, it could be used for stew the next day.

"Sara went off to town this morning and hasn't been back since!" The first said to the second as she came back in from the clothesline, carrying in Erik's bedding. "Now that the master is awake, he'll never tolerate such laziness. She'll be gone within a few weeks. She spent most of her time doting over the two of them, and you remember how he likes to be left alone!" They both laughed. As they put out the candles in the dining room and wandered off to put away the linens.

XXXXX

The carriage pulled up in front of Raoul's house. The senior DeChagny came out of the door eagerly, looking for his son. "Raou'l, pray do tell me you caught up with her and…." He stopped as he saw Raoul escorting Meg from the carriage. Her face was now shades of plum and deep blue, lined with red where the lacerations and abrasions had reshaped her porcelain skin.

"Meg, what ever happened…..dear are you…." Raoul waived his father off. "We will talk later," he said glancing at his father and then towards the house. Meg felt a bit weak in the knees, and stumbled slightly. Raoul caught her, immediately leaning down and sweeping her up into his arms. His father bristled, unsure what might have happened, but went to open the door for him just the same.

Once inside, Raoul called out "Madeline?" A stout woman, with jet-black hair appeared from the kitchen. "Sir, what may I?" She paused "Vicomte?" "Madeline, please make up the guest room, the one at the front of the house, the one….." Raoul could not bring himself to say it. It was the room he had prepared for Christine. It had been appointed with the finest furnishings. Delicate fabrics, rich tapestries, and a full-length dressing mirror, beveled and its rim crusted with crushed stones of every color. The most elaborate mirror he or anyone in his household had ever laid eyes on. He had fashioned this room for her, and now it would shelter another. Madeline simply nodded. It would take little time to prepare, as it had been kept on the ready on Raoul's orders in case Christine was ever found.

Raoul carried Meg into his study. Now that the Opera House was nearing completion, he had been able to return this room, and several others, back into his private residence, rather than a gathering place for architects and financiers. The fire had been lit as his father had been waiting for him to return. Raoul had left in such a rush, and been gone all night and day, his father only could have hoped he'd come to his senses and gone to apologize.

Raoul sat down in his large oversized leather chair in front of the fire, Meg resting in his arms. He glanced over and pulled the blanket from the other chair, covering Meg with it, tucking it around her. Though she was awake, she sat silently in his arms. Raoul's father came in walking behind him, and then back out again, closing the pocket doors.

"Meg, I'll introduce you to Madeline. She is a sweet woman, though her English is rather broken, she is able to converse quite well. She will see to all of your needs. Do not hesitate to ask her for whatever you might wish for." He leaned down and though he hesitated, he kissed her forehead lightly.

Meg shivered. She was neither cold nor frightened, it was simply an involuntary response to this foreign sensation of affection. Had the circumstances been any different, she would have been overwhelmed with joy at this new relation, but her joy was, and would forever be, tempered by the fact that he had been betrothed to Christine.

"Are you cold Meg?" Raoul inquired, pulling the blanket up further under her chin.

"No, I am quite warm thank you." Her face hurt when she spoke, as it tugged at her stitches. No doubt that would subside, but for now it was all she could do to keep from crying at the pain of it.

"Are you feeling up to having a bit of supper? I could have Madeline bring something in for us here, something informal, some soup perhaps?" Meg's stomach was indeed very empty. She really did not have an appetite, and though she knew she should eat, the thought of it made her feel quite ill. She was about to tell Raoul, but the door behind them opened, and Madeline appeared baring a tray.

"Sir, room is ready for young miss, when ready, help to bed, ring bell." Madeline put a tray on the table in front of them, and disappeared as quickly as she had appeared. The tray had a dish of applesauce, crust-less toast points, some soft cheeses, and a pot of tea. There was also a large hunk of roasted meat, lying open face on a large roll, and a small pitcher of milk, and a few sweet shortbreads. Raoul smiled, Madeline had been thoughtful as always.

Raoul stood, nestling Meg down into the chair, removing her shoes and wrapping her feet up in the blanket. Meg closed her eyes, this felt too much like a dream. Raoul pulled the small table next to Meg's chair and then the other chair up against it. He reached down and dove the spoon into the applesauce, and brought it up to Meg's lips. "It is sweetened with sugar and cinnamon." Meg opened her mouth and he slid the spoon in. She had never been fed by anyone before, except her mother of course when she was an infant. He smiled as she pushed the sauce around with her tongue and attempted to smile. Raoul lifted spoon after spoon until the dish was nearly empty. Meg put up her hand as Raoul dipped the spoon in the dish once more. He put the spoon back down and knelt down before her on the floor.

"It is good that you ate something. No doubt when the doctor arrives, he will want to give you something to help you rest." He turned, and sat in the chair, pouring them both some tea. Before Meg could say anything to him, he put two short pours of cream into her cup, and just a touch of sugar. She had a puzzled look on her face.

"You didn't think I noticed? In all the times we've had tea together my dear?" He said smiling at her, as he stirred her cup, blowing on it to cool. Meg blushed, thankful that at least the shade of bruising surely hid it. He poured his own cup, sitting it back in the saucer.

"Meg, I will do everything that I can to make you comfortable here. Please think of this as your home while you…." In that moment, Raoul felt a strange twinge in his chest. In that instant, he was entirely aware that he never wanted her to leave again. He shook his head. "I'm going to go out to take a peek at your room, and to find my father. I'll be back before your tea cools."

He stood, giving her a peck on the forehead before he slipped out the door. He pulled the doors closed behind him. Leaning against the wall his heart was pounding. A smile crossed his face. He hadn't felt any real sense of joy since, since…the fire. His heart had just skipped a beat as his mind's eye traveled to seeing Meg occupying that room, roaming the halls of his house, blonde trusses flowing, a pale pink dress swishing behind her.

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted as he heard his father's footsteps on the stairs. As he descended, he motioned to Raoul, to come into the parlor. Raoul followed. His father closed the door. Moving to the far side of the room, his father looked at him sternly "whatever happened to Meg? Was she robbed? I knew we shouldn't have sent her away without a proper escort!" Raoul pulled his father down into the two singular chairs in the room, beneath the window.

"Father, I'll explain what happened, but I must first ask for your solemn promise that you will neither judge nor condemn me for what I am about to tell you. That you will not ask Meg any questions directly, and will treat her with the warmth of a family member, not as a mere house guest." His father had never seen such seriousness, or strength in his son's eyes. He simply cleared his throat and leaned in. That was his way of agreeing without words. It rather irritated Raoul, but that was his father's way, and nothing would change that.

XXXXX

Nadir and Madame Giry had just finished talking to the officer of the law, and closed the door. Sara's body was now on its way in the back of the carriage to the undertakers. She would receive a proper burial. The incident had been reported as a robbery, the unfortunate maid had been there at the closed house at the inopportune time and had frightened the thief who had subsequently slain her. The officer did not question it to great extent, having seen the shambles the house had been left in, the explanation of cleaning up the murder scene was quite acceptable, in light of the presence of Madame Giry. The officer had questioned the physician that had now retired to clean up the bed where Sara had lain.

"Nadir, thank heavens neither Erik nor Christine woke while he was here." Nadir touched Madame Giry's shoulder, motioning her to sit down.

"We have very little provisions here Madame, and I should think that you are hungry, and we will need to be feeding the sleeping pair when they wake. It is far too late now to head out for Paris, let us stay here tonight and head out first thing. I shall send the doctor back in the morning on Sara's horse, and he can retrieve the last…"

Madame Giry looked at Nadir and nodded. "This is the last carriage isn't it?" Nadir said. She nodded again. "Hmmmm, I see. Perhaps the good doctor could go home and bring his carriage to collect them." He thought for a moment. "I shall send the coachmen into town now with the carriage, they can fetch supper for the lot of us."

"That would be most thoughtful Nadir, you are a good and trusted friend to us all."

"Indeed he is." Both Nadir and Madame Giry jumped at the sound of the voice. From the shadowy hallway Erik appeared, holding his side walking toward them, he half-reclined on the divan in front of the fire.

"Erik, you should be resting, especially after what you've consumed my dear friend!"

Erik glanced over at the decanter of brandy, and grunted in disgust. "It's been a good long time since I've imbibed, and I think it shall be longer still before drink brandy again!" Erik lifted his hand to his head, trying to quell the infernal pounding of his heartbeat in his temples.

"I shan't wonder that you have a headache, you know not to combine those things, and you promised…" the voice of the physician came over Erik's shoulder as he joined the group in the parlor.

"It was not my intention doctor, but many things, as of late, have happened without my intentions." He shot the doctor a fiery glare.

"I see you are moving around quite well for a man in your condition. Did I not warn you to take your recovery slowly? The operations were successful, but you only see the skin on the surface, what healing is now going on, you cannot see, but it is most delicate, and needs time to repair itself."

Erik looked away disgustedly. "What is this talk of supper?" Erik said, trying to change the subject. Nadir laughed, "supper for you will be soft eggs, if the coachmen are able to find some when they go into town!" Erik grumbled. The doctor quickly interjecting "if he was able to handle the brandy, that much brandy, he could probably eat a bit more. Perhaps a bit of potatoes and gravy, some soft bread and milk."

Erik looked hopeful. "And a slice of roasted beef?" The doctor looked down and shook his head. "Erik, be thankful for what you can have, the rest will come in time." Erik turned slowly and with his back turned said before slumping down into the couch "do I look like a vegetarian to you good sir?"

That made Madame Giry, Nadir, and the doctor all laugh. Laughter soon turned to silence as the coachmen came into the house from the back stable. "We've watered the horses sir, but we've not oats or straw for them, and since the ground is still barren, they've little to find there." Nadir took the elder and led him to the back door, giving him instructions and funds, sending him off to town which was but three miles away. With any smile of fortune, they would be back before complete darkness fell.

Madame Giry turned to the doctor, "and how is Christine?"

Erik turned abruptly, grabbing at his side in pain from his sudden movement. "What? Christine is here?"

Nadir was just coming back into the room. Without a word, Nadir walked over and helped Erik stand, "come my friend, I will take you to her." Though Nadir was decidedly shorter than Erik, he was stocky, holding Erik's slouched form quite well as he helped him to slowly climb the stairs.

As they disappeared beyond the banister the doctor turned to Madame Giry. "She is resting, although fitfully. She no doubt is exhausted from the lack of sleep, and this early in her pregnancy she requires much, so it is good that she still rests, though I am certain that Erik will not wait long before he does something to make her stir." Madame Giry smiled, "indeed." The doctor looked over his shoulder to be certain that they were completely alone. "Nadir handles him well. No doubt they've been friends for a very long time?"

Madame Giry said, "yes, quite a long time. And yes, he does handle him well. He knows when to fight with him, and when, like now, it will do no good, so it is best to simply do as he asks."

"That stubbornness no doubt has served him well, in fact it might be that very thing that speeds his recovery. By all rights that man should be bedridden still, yet he walks as though he's recovering from merely a bad fall!" Madame Giry could do nothing more than nod, for to say anything more would be to betray Erik's confidences, and that she could not do.

"I suppose we should be finding rooms for ourselves to sleep for the evening. I do wish I could be with Meg tonight, but since you've assured me that she will be o.k., and since we've but the one carriage, it does not make sense to press on in the dark, especially with whomever did this to poor Sara still out there, I'd not think of venturing out alone." Madame Giry felt torn. She wanted so desperately to be at Meg's side, but she had to trust that these men knew best.

XXXXXX

Nadir sat Erik down in a chair that he'd pulled up next to Christine's bed. He nodded to Erik and closed the door behind himself as he left.

Erik sat staring at Christine. The kerosene lamp hissed, emitting a soft glow of even light. He worried for her. He didn't want to wake her and frighten her. Nadir had told him of why she had fainted, thinking Erik to be dead. Seeing him there beside her would be fright enough without being pulled unwilling from her slumber only to be greeted by a ghost.

Erik pulled himself around in the chair until he found a semi-comfortable position. He peered beneath his jacket, the gauze was still in place, and nothing seemed to be draining, a good sign he thought to himself. He would sit by her side, keeping watch all night if he needed to until she woke, though he hoped it wouldn't take that long.

How he wanted to tell her he was alright. To tell her Meg was going to be alright. He did not know if she knew that Meg had gone with Raoul. In fact, he wasn't entirely sure if she even knew that Raoul had been there, that Meg had been there. He'd not even had a complete conversation with any of the people who now sat downstairs.

It comforted him to know that there was a physician in the house, in case Christine needed anything. Erik relaxed back into the chair, his thoughts retracing the steps of the day. It was but two days ago that Erik had first realized he was still in the land of the living. Now one friend was gone, one was in Paris, and his beautiful Christine lay sleeping, thinking he to be dead.

Glossy tears rimmed Erik's eyes as he thought of Sara. She'd given so much, thought about him all of those years….now he would never be able to repay her, except by doing right by her children, and by keeping his promise to her.

Erik thought of Meg. He remembered back to the first time he laid eyes on her sweet innocent little face. How he marveled at the mother Madame Giry had become. Meg grew up to be as sweet as her mother was strong. Perhaps in all of her observations of her mother, Meg would have grown to have a strength within herself to sustain her during this time. How Erik would have longed to avenge Meg's attacker, but the Vicomte had taken care of that. He somewhat reluctantly was thankful to the man for that. Had they met under different circumstances, they might well have been friends. They were both fiercely protective, and extremely loyal.

Now, Erik could only think about the man, nay, boy, who had murdered Sara in cold blood. He had been so cowardly that he didn't even realize he'd missed his target, for if he had, Erik would not have been alive now, sitting there by Christine. Erik did not know if he would ever find him, but something told him that he might not have seen the last of this boy.

Erik flinched as he heard Christine begin to whimper. He tried to leap to his feet, but the pain in his middle nearly put him on the floor, the wind knocked right out of him. He had to move slowly. He came to rest on the bed next to Christine. He sat holding her hand as he watched the expressions on her face, as her lips trembled, her eyes racing furiously beneath her lids. She was having a nightmare. He wanted to wake her, but could not bring himself to frighten her so. He did the only thing he knew how to do. He began to hum softly, caressing her forehead, pushing her brown curls away from the sides of her face. He heard her sigh.

After a few minutes, he watched as her expressions relaxed, and her hand slowly floated down, coming to rest on her abdomen. He smiled. For all the tragedy that had beheld this day, one miracle remained. He reached out his hand, gently placing it over hers. His humming changed to singing, sweet, soft, low notes, of the melody of the song he had written for her….the one she had discovered on her own in the depths of his trunk.. His voice growing warmer as he fondled her hand in his "Christine….I love you….this blessing that you now carry will bring us much joy…it is the hope for our future….the blending of our pasts….the melding of our souls…."

Erik began to cry, quietly, very quietly. He hung his head next to her arm. Much had altered that day. The night before he'd been trying to comfort her nightmare, and yet it had probably saved Meg. Erik was deep in thought when he felt a gentle hand wiping away the tears from his cheek. He looked up. Christine was staring at him.

"Erik? Why do you cry? You are in heaven now…all things are wonderful….and now you've sent your spirit back to care for me?" Erik shook his head….what had she said? He stood, ignoring the pain in his side, he scooped her up into his arms, coming to rest next to her in the bed.

"My dearest Christine….I love you…..this is not a dream…..wake dear child….wake." He began to rub the back of her neck, caressing her shoulder. He slid his hand carefully down her collarbone, down past her breastbone, down to just below her navel. He gently began to rub her stomach. Though her pregnancy was not yet detectable, he could sense the presence of their child anyway.

Christine shuddered, jerking at one point until she gasped. "Christine?" Erik lifted her head, cradling her neck in his hand.

"Erik!" She shrieked… "Dear God it wasn't a dream….you are with me…." She sat up, kissing his face, his hands, his neck. "Erik, Nadir screamed when we came to the house we came in and Madame Giry pulled me away, then Nadir came in and he shrieked, I saw blood, I thought….."

"Shhhhh…..I know my dear….I know…." Christine's breathing was slowing down a bit, though she clung to Erik's middle as though if she let go of him he would slip away into her dreams again.

"Christine, I love you my dear." She sobbed into his chest. "I thought I'd lost you again….I thought you'd left me…I was so angry that I'd let you go. What happened? Why did you not return?"

Erik searched his mind for how to break the news to her that Sara was gone. Surely he would have to tell her in the next breaths, lest she begin to ask. He felt better when he could anticipate her needs. "My dear, I must say I was not quite ready for the journey I embarked on. No doubt you have spoken to Nadir?" Erik hoped she had, as it would make this process more expedited.

"Yes, he told me of Meg, how you had exchanged your carriage for his horse."

"Very well, then I can tell you that I rode the horse intending to return to you, to prepare Madame Giry to depart, to break the news of what we found. The medicine that the doctor gave me….well at some point I could no longer travel, and I entrusted myself to the care of the beast lest I be lost in the woods, food for hungry wolves." That made Christine shudder. "The next that I knew a young man was helping me off of the horse here. He helped me in, and made me comfortable and that is all I remember until…." Erik paused.

"What is it Erik?" He swallowed, he did not want to tell her, but he knew he must. "Sara arrived, she woke me, went to the kitchen to fetch some water. I was still half sleeping when I saw the outline of a boy, a gun in his hands…he said that he was Joseph's son, brother to Ronaldo, and that he wanted blood for blood…" Christine gasped. "I could do nothing as I could barely see as he drew his gun and turned his head…." Christine began looking Erik over. He had no new wounds that she could see, but hints of splattered blood were on his cheeks. "Erik?" "Before I could do anything I heard the gun fire, and then tramping boots." Erik paused.

"But what of this blood? Where did he wound you Erik?" Her respiration increasing, her eyes growing wide. Erik reached up, putting a hand on her cheek, caressing it. "It was Sara my dear…"

Christine blinked heavily. "What of Sara, were is she….SARA!" Christine tried to pull away, to sit up, but Erik held her tightly around the waist.

"Sara moved in between us….she is gone….it is her blood you see on my face." Christine crumbled into his arms, crushed by the news. "NO! NO!" she sobbed. Erik rubbed her back, holding her until her fits of tears ceased.

"Christine, I will need your help. Sara made me promise that I would tell her children that she loved them…yet I do not even know Sara's last name, or the whereabouts of her children." He looked thoughtfully at Christine. "Christine, that music box….the one I kept with me under the Opera House….Sara is the one that gave that to me."

Christine was quite perplexed. He had told her that he had it since he was but a mere boy. "Whatever do you mean?"

"Sara had been the young girl that gave it to me when her family traveled with us briefly. The only toy I brought with me…the only one I'd ever had."

"Oh Erik…" Christine began to sob again. Erik's eyes, now filled with tears as he recounted the rest of the story for Christine, and Sara's words as she died in his arms.

"My own mother discarded me like chattel, and yet this woman made the ultimate sacrifice." He turned to her, "then she said the strangest thing, she said to give them a kiss for her, but she never said who. She told me to love you dearly, though I think she already knew that I did."

"Erik, will this treachery ever end? Will no one leave us in peace? What of the boy now, will he hunt us too?"

"I do not know Christine….I do not know."

"Where is Sara now?" "Christine, I've not been awake much longer than you. It may surprise you to know that I've not yet asked these questions. I thought it best that we find this out together. The doctor who treated Meg is here. He no doubt assisted Nadir in taking care of things for her. When I was in the parlor, I saw but faint traces of blood, nothing more. Are you feeling up to a trip downstairs?"

Christine nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes. Erik looked down at her tenderly, running his hand along her abdomen. He searched for her hand, intertwining it with his, bringing it to rest on her stomach. "Are you both feeling well?" Even in the staggering sadness of the moment, they hadn't forgotten to be thankful for what they did have. They had each other…they had their child….Erik kissed her lips tenderly. "Perhaps if it is a girl, we can name her Sara?" Christine nuzzled Erik, "I think that should be just right." Erik smiled.

"Come, let us go down. I hear that the carriage has returned, it should be baring our supper with it." "What?" Christine said, sitting up now. Erik pulled her to a standing position.

"I am hungry, are you not hungry?" She smiled, "Erik darling, it is good to hear you speak…to see you breathe….to watch you so alive….so full of life." She reached out her hand, running it along his chest.

"Christine, it is in your own best interest to be careful now. I am not the same docile man that I was the other evening. I may not be as healthy as I once was, but I am mending…"

Christine blushed, brushing a kiss on his jaw. I know my husband….I know…." She took him by the hand, and led him out the door and to the top of the stairs. He whirled her around before they descended, placing his arm in the small of her back pulling her firmly to him, with the other he cradled her head, looking deeply into her eyes.

"Thank you for loving me Christine, for rescuing me, for staying by my side, and for this," he moved his hand from her back to her stomach, rubbing it affectionately. "No man's heart could hold greater joy, for you to love me this much, willingly give yourself to me, to our family…."

Christine reached up pulling his neck down so she could reach his lips. She moved to within a fraction of an inch of his lips, so close her words moved them as spoke. "It is our joy, our love, thank you my angel, for loving me." She pressed her lips against his. The love of this woman had altered him, made him believe people were fundamentally good, that there was hope….he never expected that she would love him this much, to alter his reality….forever.


	84. Literal and literary ghosts

Chapter 84 Literal and literary ghosts 

"Thank you Madeline." Meg said as the maid left the room, pausing briefly in the doorway. "Young miss, master sad so long time, but, speaks of you, he smiles again. Happy face, he smiles!"

Meg was flattered, as she attempted to smile and close the door behind her. She turned, fully facing the room. Each corner, each window, each thing in that room screamed of luxury. The night tables held crystal hurricane lamps. The dressing table had numerous bottles of perfumed oils. Brushes, mirrors, hair adornments of every kind. She walked slowly over to the dressing mirror, running her hand over the colorful crushed stone, and along the beveled edges. It was all so very extraordinary. She walked over the bed, whose covers had been turned down, noticing a large wooden stick protruding from the foot. She lifted the blankets ever so carefully to expose a highly embellished copper bed warmer, that the maid had slid in to make the sheets more inviting. No doubt the maid would return in a few minutes to retrieve it.

Meg wandered over to the window, looking out she could see a small rose garden, and several lovely angelic sculptures in it, one bore a harp, the other a violin. She turned drinking in the sheer opulence of the appointments. She noticed a door on the right, and wondered where it led. She slowly made her way there, running her hands along the edges of everything she touched, as if it weren't real.

The large brass latch on the door didn't even squeak as she lifted it, opening the door into another smallish room. It was not until the door was fully opened, that its contents were exposed. It was lined with shelves, and shelves of shoes, hats, boxes of gloves in every color. One entire wall was lined with a rack containing no less than twenty dresses of varying fabrics and fringes and lace. The wall at the rear of the room was entirely covered in mirrors, a rather large one at the center, providing a long shadow of Meg's frame. She fingered the dresses, looking at the shoes that matched, parasols and the like.

She moved out of the room, closing the door, and leaning against it. "This had all been prepared for Christine…." Meg felt ill. It was one thing to be given this sort of luxury, but to walk in the shadow of a woman that all assumed to be dead, gave her a sudden forceful shudder down her spine.

She wandered back to the dressing table, where she sat down next to the lamp. She'd not had an opportunity to look at her injuries in detail, and was a bit frightened to do so now.

She swallowed hard as she slowly raised her head to look at her face. She drew in a sharp breath as she gazed upon her swollen right cheek. A slit was in the place her eye normally occupied, and a gash, the length of her finger extended from her nose down to her jaw. Her face contained nearly every shade from the blue color palette, muddled together with red in places. She looked down as tears welled in her left eye. She glanced at the bandages on her arms, and the one on her leg. "He said they weren't deep, that they would heal." Meg said under her breath trying to comfort herself.

Though she was in her bedclothes, Meg wished she could find Raoul, ask if he would put her in another room…..one less occupied. She was grateful yes, but was unsettled at the thought of being there, as she was, in a room that was not hers.

Just then there was a knock on the door. "Young miss? Doctor comes, you ready receive him?" Meg stood and walked toward the door. "Yes, thank you." Meg wandered back to the chair as the doctor entered the room. Raoul stood in the doorway, not wanting to intrude on her privacy. As soon as he saw the doctor sit next to Meg, he turned and walked down the hall to his own quarters.

"Meg, I am Baron LeFavre. I will be your attending physician while you recuperate here with the De Chagny family. Raoul has briefly informed me of the events of the past day, but I wish to hear from you. I will examine your wounds, and give you something to relax."

He looked at the trepidation in Meg's face. Reaching into his bag he retrieved a small flask of water, and a brown bottle of pills. "Perhaps we could start with this." Meg took the pills and water compliantly.

The doctor rose, washing his hands in the basin that Madeline had brought in for him, and returned to Meg's side. "Let's look first at the stitches." He drew in closely, pushing his glasses up on his nose, coming in for a careful examination. "Hmmmm…..quite good, quite good indeed. I dare say for a country physician, I'd not have been able to do a better job myself!" He backed away from Meg. "This doctor, who did you say he was?" Meg simply shrugged her shoulders, she simply could not tell him.

"He did you a great service my dear, this will heal very well, very well indeed. If it is not disturbed, you'll hardly be able to tell you'd had a scratch there!" Meg released a relieved breath. She had been more worried about that than she had allowed herself to believe.

Slowly he examined each of her other wounds, nodding his head reassuringly that Meg had received excellent immediate treatment, and that she would heal well…very well.

"Now dear, do tell me how do you feel….not physically….but inside…how do you feel." Meg looked at him, and without warning began to cry. She raised her hands to her face, ashamed at her sudden outburst of emotion. The doctor reached out and put his hand on her shoulder.

"It is alright dear, such trauma…..trauma the likes of which you've seen….often produces these tears. In time this will lessen, until one day it becomes something of a distant memory of a bad dream."

He reached down into his case, retrieving yet another brown bottle, this one slightly smaller than the last. He turned to her looking rather seriously. "Meg, if you wake, and you find your memories will not allow you to rest, take one of these. Be careful to take one and only one, and then only if you absolutely need to." He looked at the bottle, and back at Meg. "Do you understand?" She nodded. "They are very potent, and will cause you to go into a deep, dreamless sleep."

She stared at the bottle. Something both called to her to snatch it, and yet another part of her feared something so powerful. He tucked the bottle in the drawer next to her bed. "We shan't need to discuss this with anyone…it will be our little secret," he said smiling at her. "Raoul is quite concerned for your well being, and wanted me to see to your comfort, and so I shall."

Each day, I will come to visit you before you retire. I'll change your dressings, and in time, remove your stitches. Do not worry, you have at your disposal all the finest that money can buy." He patted her hand. "Meg, when I visit, we can discuss the things that happened, talk for awhile if you like."

He stood, collecting his things. "Shall I help you retire? Raoul would like to visit if you'd not object?" Meg nodded, "please send Madeline in first…and thank you." Meg could not smile, but the look in her one open eye indicated her gratitude. "I shall." He walked out of the room.

Meg was beginning to feel very relaxed, no doubt an affect of the pills the doctor gave her when he first arrived. She leaned back in the chair, feeling rather sleepy. Madeline made her way back into the room, coming to Meg's side.

"Young miss, you water closet before bed?" Meg nodded, and Madeline led her off to a small door at the back of the room. It led to yet another room, appointed no less richly than the other fine things in the room. He had seen to every detail, nothing had been spared.

XXXXX

The dining room table had been uncovered, and the meal had been eaten. It was an odd mixture really of the things that the coachmen could find in town, considering the few shops that had been open when they arrived. Several sweet cakes, and stale loaves from the bakery. A wheel of cheese and a smoked ham from the butcher's shop. Several bottles of wine from a tavern. It was sheer luck that they had run into the shopkeeper of the general market at the tavern, for he had opened the shop for them to obtain a few additional provisions. A sack of peanuts, some ground coffee, and several dozen eggs. They'd also talked him out of several quarts of milk. The physician had insisted that they find some for Christine.

The horses were happily munching on oats in the stable, several bales of hay brought in for their comfort. There were cots in the barn, but the coachmen welcomed Erik's invitation to stay inside the house where it was warmer. The group sat quietly around the table. With no servants to retrieve their dishes, they'd stayed in front of them until Madame Giry nodded at Christine and they stood collecting the plates. Erik wanted to protest, but given the situation, they were all doing what they could. No one was truly in character that evening, instead, they were a group of people shoved together by circumstances, making the best of it.

Nadir had gathered wood from the small stores in the shed behind the house, remnants of the winter no doubt. Madame Giry and Christine had wandered through the house, uncovering beds, and filling basins with water in each room, lighting small fires to warm them.

Everyone seemed to gravitate to the parlor as the twilight faded into blackness. They sat nearly silently staring into the fire. This group had never shared company before, and it was all very odd to them.

"Perhaps a game would be in order," Nadir offered. Erik scowled. "I hardly think this is the time for us to be…" he stopped. "It is with great sadness that we find ourselves in this house tonight. This house should be like it is every other night, seven months out of the year…quite…empty." Nadir paused, "but, alas it is not. Now we are faced with several hours before any of us will be tired enough to sleep. We could pass the time each sulking in our own corners, or, we could seize the moment, making the best of it."

Erik smirked Nadir was always the optimist. Even the time that Erik had seen him run clean through with a blade, Nadir was commenting on how fortunate that he was that it had been so sharp, making a clean slice through. That was Nadir. Christine had rather tired of crying, and welcomed a distraction from her sorrows. Madame Giry could think of little else but Meg. It was better to be occupied than to sit and fret. The coachmen were accustomed to entertaining themselves, and half thought the idea of retiring with a good book in a fine room really didn't sound all that tedious.

Erick was the one to select the game. Having been a dutiful student of the literary arts, he'd rather taken a fancy to the game of cribbage, and it was this game that he insisted upon playing. In the large oak bureau in the parlor were stowed several cribbage boards, and all of the accompanying necessities.

Nadir busied himself digging in the back of bookshelves, though none, save Erick, knew what he was looking or. Erik took swift course to Nadir's side and pushed aside a bound collection of Dickens revealing several decanters. Nadir smiled, retrieving them, sitting them on one end of the table. Christine and Madame Giry had lit several more candles, and the group assembled.

The play had begun and as the night fell, and the liquor flowed, though Erik abstained at the admonition of the physician, story telling became frequent.

"Now come Erik, do tell us why you've such a fascination with this game." Nadir said through slightly bleary eyes. Erik's face spread with a wide smile. He hadn't talked of Dickens in so many years, and looked on this occasion with keen vivacity.

"Very well, if you implore me," Erik looked at Christine and winked. "Have your read Dickens' story 'The Old Curiosity Shop'?" Erick paused, looking around.

None raised their hand except Nadir. The coachmen cajoled him. "Now, let me defend myself. I only read the book because Erik held a sword to my side every night in our quarters until I'd finished every last chapter! He insisted I needed to broaden my mind, to appreciate the written word!" That made the group laugh with delight.

Erik strode over to the bound volumes sitting carefully in their place on the shelves of the parlor. Selecting the second he opened the book to the story, and handed it to the coachman, "appropriate bed-time reading for you sir!" They laughed again. "Yes, I dare say many of my fancies have been derived directly from what I've read. One must learn to appreciate the simplicities of life, to ever embrace its joy."

Nadir laughed. "Dickens story of the Curiosity Shop mentioned the game of cribbage, and Erik insisted we learn how to play. He's such a competitive bloke!"

Erik walked by running his fingers with a feathery lightness along Christine's exposed shoulders. She blushed.

"And for me good sir?" The second coachman said to Erik. "Hmmm…..let me see…ahh, this one!" Erik selected another volume for him, smiling savagely as he brought it to him. "Oliver Twist?" he said looking up at Erik.

"And for you doctor, a special selection….yes…here it is… 'David Copperfield'." As he handed it to the doctor, who pressed it between his hands. "You should know that Dickens was once quoted as having said that he felt very much like a parent, and this book, was his favorite child!" The doctor had always wanted to read it, but had never found a bound volume to peruse. He smiled at Erik, and it seemed as though Erik was in some small way, saying thank you.

"Now, let me see, for my dear Madame Giry…something most intriguing…..ah yes, this shall do quite nicely… 'The Pickwick Papers'." He smiled handing it to her. "And last for my dear Christine…" he smiled sheepishly "ah yes…." He selected a volume and gave it to her. Christine blushed.

"And what of yours mam?" One coachman inquired. Christine held up her volume, blushing profusely now. "Great Expectations." The group laughed with gaiety. Some at Christine's expression, some because they knew of Christine's condition, and Erik, because he knew the real intent behind the book, and that night he had no intentions whatsoever of letting Christine have time to read it. "And of course, lastly for myself…yes…this shall do… 'Dombey and Sons."

"And for me kind sir?" Nadir called to Erik in a most mocking fashion. "Not having my sword at my disposal, I'd rather thought you'd decline!" The group roared in laughter. "However, if you insist…" Erik smiled, raising his eyebrow slightly. "Yes, this one suits you." He handed it to Nadir. "The Tale of Two Cities! It is the largest of all the volumes!" Nadir said looking curiously at Erik. "Yes, I thought you'd need the most work!" Everyone laughed yet again at Erik's humor.

Erik had been a rather intriguing host. Only Nadir, Christine, and Madame Giry truly knew how ill-accustomed Erik was to entertaining like this. Christine had noted that not once during the evening had Erik tried to hide his face, nor avoid anyone's gaze. He had behaved as any gentleman might while entertaining guests. Inside it moved her, to think this had been the first quasi-normal evening he'd spent, perhaps in the entirety of his life.

The fire dwindled, glasses were empty, and all the games returned to their hiding places. All felt sufficiently ready to retire. They parted ways saying their good-nights. The two coachmen had selected the servant's quarters at the rear of the house on the main floor. Madame Giry had selected the room that Meg had stayed in….somehow it made her more comfortable…made her feel closer to the daughter she longed to hold. The physician had chosen a smaller, well appointed room in the back of the house, near the sun-room. He rather enjoyed the privacy it offered, and it allowed this family to stay in rooms close to one another.

Erik and Christine retired to the master suite. It contained a dominating four-poster bed, encased in black silk, and gleaming white organza, and a large deep, marble fireplace. Erik pulled Christine into the room, gently pushing the door closed, barely hearing the latch before he embraced her, pressing her back against the door. She put one arm around Erik's middle held him close. He looked down at her with curious eyes, and then reached down and slipped the book from her hand.

"You shan't have time to read this tonight…you may take it home with us when we return to the manor." He reached over putting the book on the table. Neither had a change of clothing, nor bedclothes, and sleeping in their soiled garments would not do at all. There was but one alternative. Christine and Erik took turns assisting one another.

"I really must insist you stop wearing these things," Erik said as he unlaced Christine's corset. Christine simply replied "hmmm." Erik reached down sliding a silken sheet around her shoulders, and another around his. They sat on the edge of the bed, staring down into the fire.

"There are so many things that I'd like to say to you Christine. So many things that I've yet to share with you." Christine turned to Erik and looked him in the eye.

"We have a lifetime to share my dear. I'd like nothing more than to relish this pleasant memory. In the worst of circumstances, you reached into this small collection of broken souls, and provided hours of relief. Your ingenious contrivances allowed us all an escape, if but for a fleeting moment. We could have passed this time by wallowing in the losses, but you've produced a diversion that was so desperately needed by all."

She smiled at him, reaching out cupping his hand in her pair. "Yes, we have much to talk about. We've not mentioned the many things that could have occupied our conversations, making us all the wearier for it. Tonight we could do nothing more but wait. You saved us all from going quite mad. Tomorrow will be a new day, and we will all have much to do."

Erik leaned down placing a tender kiss on Christine's temple. There was a knock at the door. "Erik?" came the physician's voice. Erik rose and walked to the door, opening it just slightly. "I'd like to examine your bandages just once, to be certain that nothing is draining or needs to be cleaned.

Erik led him out into the hallway and down to the sunroom. He lifted a match to the kerosene lamp and it ignited illuminating the entire room with light nearly as bright as the sun. "That is perfect," the doctor said as he sat his bag down, opening it widely to reveal his instruments. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at the sheet that Erik had draped around him. Deciding discretion was the higher road, he chose to act as if he hadn't noticed. He looked carefully at the bandages. He applied a bit of salve to the scrapes on Erik's forehead, and cleaned off a few abrasions on Erik's shoulders.

"All things considered Erik, you've recovered amazingly well. You should barely be walking! Yet tonight you endured hours of cribbage, tolerated with great strength I might add, the mixture of brandy and morphine, and now it seems that your wound has finally stopped draining. I've never observed this rapid healing before, you are indeed a fortunate man!"

Erik looked most seriously at him. "Tell me….. is there more to do with this?" Erik said pointing up at his cheek.

The doctor was quite uncertain how his patient would react now, the night had been so pleasant up to this point. "Sir, that is up to you. I'd prefer to continue treating it until such time it no longer threatens to overtake the skin, but I'll do nothing more without your permission."

Erik thought for a moment. "Perhaps you and I can converse about this back at the manor. It seems it would be foolish to stop now, when you've come so far." Erik said, slipping the sheet back over his shoulders. "Good night sir," he said to the doctor as he headed back to his room.

The doctor smiled to himself as he put everything back into his satchel. That might be the closest he would every come to receiving an expression of gratitude from Erik. But, he was more relieved that Erik wanted to continue. That very admission gave him hope that Erik approved, and was embracing the idea on his own terms now.

**Author's Notes:**

Captain Oblivious: Now you must simply tell me about this video…I've never heard of it…is it real? Now, you've got ME wondering…hmmm…I guess turnabout is fair play!

Phantom Vampire? Sounds like you should be making a movie deal with Wes Craven…with any luck he can get Schumacher to direct it! Oh, and about the trances, you best know what you're doing or it could have unintended consequences…say…if you'd happen to be thinking about this story….his affections might traverse your thoughts and the object of his undying affections could be the author! Yikes…now I don't know whether to fear your sword or your fangs….darn thing is getting rather complicated!

Yes, I felt badly about Sara meeting her demise….the love of a true friend…the greatest act of altruism…one should be so lucky to have someone like that in their life! I hope you enjoy the chapters…I tried to leave things on a little kinder note for the weekend!

**DivePrincess:** Welcome back! Hope you had a great time, and hope you had a chance to have that Mai Tai! Yes, we've been busy while you've been gone. Hopefully it won't take too long to catch up! Hope you enjoy the next chapters!

**Xciel**: Thank you for the review. The reason that Madame Giry didn't' want Christine to go into the house was because she thought Erik was dead. Since she hadn't known about the extent of the murders that had happened there, she was frightened by the site of the blood everywhere, and bodies strewn about. It's like that moment when you see a crime scene and it scares you so much that you imagine the worst even if you never actually saw it. That's sort of what I was aiming for. I hope you enjoy the next chapters. They are a bit of welcome relief for the families in light of all of this absurd tragedy.

**Phantomluvr:** My chapters are growing rather long, sometimes I cut them off at what might be viewed as inopportune points. However, in the case you refer to, I was going for effect. Sorry if it drove you a bit crazy! I think you'll rather like how chaps 83 and 84 end. It's a nice place to leave the families for the weekend!

**Phantomfan13**: Another night owl? Alas, us bats have to stick together! It is too bad that work has to get in the way of all this fun!

Now, as for Erik's taste for liquor, I don't know that he drank the whole bottle, but it was empty when Nadir found it. Likely he was drowning his grief, which was so common in those days. My guess is he couldn't stand being in the room with a dead Sara, and not knowing when help would come, he turned to the only thing he could get his hands on. Hope you enjoy the next chapters!

PS. Thank you for your encouragement. Obviously you read the less-than-flattering review. I realize this story is not for everyone, nor should it be. If one has their heart set on Christine and Raoul being together, this story is not for them. Thankfully, there are thousands of other revisions out there to choose from. Perhaps she can find one that suits her tastes! Again, thank you for the encouragement!

**Stellalorelia**: Yes, I am a ravenous reader myself, so I'm sharing your pain! When I find something I like, I consume it by the volume, barely stopping to eat or drink! I've been known to hole up with a good book and read from my first cup of coffee in the morning until the moon is high in the sky! Oh, I've gotten off the subject haven't I.

Chapter 84 is the one I was referring to in my last response to you. I'd already penned it when I read your review which is why your reference to Dickens was so eerie… I'm glad you keep coming back to the story. Last night as I drifted off to sleep on my laptop, I thought that if this crazy story made but one person smile out there in cyberspace, then all the hours would have been worth it! Hope you enjoy this installment!

**Pertie:** I hope you've not given up yet. You can probably tell from the number of chapters that this has grown to, that I'm an extreme Erik fan myself! It's funny you should pose the question of asking about Erik being the strong Phantom again…I think just now he's regaining his strength! The love of a good woman, and the care of an excellent physician have helped him greatly! Hope you find chaps 83 & 84 a little relieving!

**Glitterqueenoftheiceshow**: I am saddened to hear that you are disappointed with this revision. Though I realize I cannot make everyone happy, I do tend to try. No doubt you've seen that I've been rather compassionate to Raoul, for he was a man of honor, and equally deserved to be loved. His past was not easy, and he grew into a much deeper character than he'd been in either the movie or the novel. I think if anything, people may like him better now, not less, which is what I think you were hoping for too. Alas, in my mind, the way the world should have been is that Erik ended up with Christine, happy and very much in love. They were, as Plato was once quoted as saying, "split-aparts" two souls so perfectly matched that even the forces of the universe couldn't keep them apart. Yes they were passionate, but one would hope that those who had waited so long to be loved, were newlyweds, would be passionate, for that is the zest of life! The focus in this story was not of lust, but of true love….there is such a difference in the two!

I truly hope you go on to find another story where the dream can turn out as you'd hoped it would. Perhaps in the world as it should have been to you, Erik would be alone, and only Christine and Raoul would have been happy. It was precisely that tragic ending that prompted me to write this story. I do mean this sincerely, it may be time for you to re-write the ending to detail the longings of your own heart. I wish you much luck and happiness, and I hope you find exactly what you're looking for….just as I have.


	85. The Evening Turns

**Chapter 85 The evening turns**

Meg sat down on the edge of the bed as Madeline retrieved the bedwarmer. She smiled thanking her politely as she left the room. After several minutes, there was a gentle knock at the door. "Come in," Meg called, she knew it would be Raoul.

He came in closing the door behind him, he made his way over to her, pulling up a chair next to the bed, positioned in front of the fireplace. He'd brought with him two small glasses of sherry. Offering one to Meg.

She shook her head, "I've just had something from the doctor." Raoul smiled. "It is alright, he suggested that I offer it to you, it will only make you more comfortable." Meg attempted to smile as she took the glass from his hand. She felt so ugly, so truly repulsive, she could scarcely understand how Raoul looked at the marring on her face with indifference, as if they weren't even there.

They both sipped silently. The sweet cordial was the first liquor that had passed Meg's lips since the nightcap she and her mother shared on Christmas Eve. The sweet fiery warmth as it slid down Meg's throat was almost intoxicating in itself. Meg was very relaxed, her toes even tingled slightly. "I do not know what it is the doctor administered, but I'd dare say it does make you forget your pain!"

Raoul smirked at Meg, knowing the medicine was speaking for her. "My dear, that is the intended purpose!"

She simply looked into the fire, feeling very sleepy. "Meg, I do hope this room meets your approval." He paused, knowing this would be difficult. "Tomorrow, or perhaps the next day, I'd like you to go through the room, and have the butler remove anything that you'd like. I've a tailor who can recover chairs, or fashion some new curtains for you. The closets can be emptied….whatever you like."

Meg sighed. He had sensed what she felt. They both knew who the room had been expecting, and it had not been Meg.

"It may be of some comfort to you to know that no one has ever occupied this room. Christine never saw it, or knew of its existence here." Meg swallowed hard. "Yes, things were prepared for her, but that was not meant to be dear Meg."

He looked down into the fire, as if staring at the same burning ember that Meg was, would somehow connect them through their thoughts. "Raoul, thank you for bringing me here. Your compassion is a bit overwhelming."

Raoul smiled, "you are worth every ounce of it!" He reached out placing his hand most properly over hers. "Meg, time will heal all things. We shall learn how to live again, to trust again…..to love again."

Meg blushed. She didn't know if she would ever become accustomed to hearing him use those words. Part of her longed to hear more, to encourage each dewy note. The other part of her screamed betrayal. She wondered if she would forever wrestle with these thoughts, or if she would have to abandon all hope, and pass on what could be the greatest love she'd ever known.

Raoul turned as he heard the clattering of carriage wheels approaching the house. "That will be the authorities." He said, tipping the last of his glass. "Meg, I shall insist that they not question you, the doctor's explanations should be sufficient. It is possible that on the morrow that you may have to accompany me to their offices, but for tonight do not worry of the conversations you'll hear."

He leaned down kissing Meg on the cheek just under her eye. "Do not worry, rest now, I shall take care of everything." He helped Meg recline, and pulled the soft silken sheets up over her. He reached down brushing her blond hair from her forehead. "Tomorrow is a new day my dear, and with it new hope." He leaned down, closely peering into Meg's one open eye. She closed it as she felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek. She was most certain the he would place another kiss there, but she froze as she felt his lips tenderly brush hers. Her eye flew back open to see Raoul's expression as his eyes began to open. He was smiling, a sweet melancholy smile.

"Rest now." He ran his hand once more over her forehead, and then turned and departed. The door no sooner closed than Meg's chest began to heave. She wanted to scream, she wanted to laugh, she wanted to cry, but somehow, in the overwhelming draw of her weariness, slumber was triumphant. She faded off to sleep. The winds outside the window brushed the branches of the trees to and fro. The warm flames crackled in the fireplace next to the bed, and Meg rested comfortably, for the first time in many nights.

XXXX

"Vicomte, and just how did you find yourself at the house with this young woman," he said looking down at his notebook, "Meg Giry, is it?" He looked back up at Raoul.

He'd rather tired of the officers questions, but knew the situation necessitated it. "And if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to speak with the young lady myself." He said looking rather sternly at Raoul. He was about to object when the physician interrupted.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible sir, as I've administered a rather heavy dose of medicine to her so she might sleep. I'll be most happy to convey to you the extent of her injuries, but I'll not have her disturbed tonight." The officer, exhaled heavily. "Then I'd plan to bring her to my offices in the morning," he said pointedly. "Now sir, kindly do explain how you.." Raoul's father walked into the room, nodding to the physician who disappeared into the study.

He walked over to his son, and sat down. He offered the officer a brandy, which he took but set aside. Raoul was about to speak when his father interrupted. "It's an odd coincidence really, we were having lunch at the Starboard when Meg took ill. She decided to cut her visit short…" his father was rising, and without comment the officer did the same. Before Raoul could really say what happened his father had led the officer out of the room, pulling the pocket doors closed behind them.

Raoul breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing that the family needed now was scandal, and if anyone knew how to keep it at bay, it was his father.

Raoul rested his head in the crook of the chair. He desperately needed a hot bath, and a change of clothing. He lifted the glass of brandy to his lips, pouring in enough to cover his tongue before he swallowed. He looked down examining his hands. He'd never been to war, never been robbed, his own life had never been threatened. And yet, this pair of hands was now different tonight. They'd known malice, they'd felt the very power of life squeezed out of a mortal soul. He shuddered.

Raoul had never even joined in foxhunts, or the like, as he preferred not to partake of such sport. Life was precious to him, and though it was a bit contradictory for a man who enjoyed his roasted meats, he didn't relish the process, or all that it entailed. He turned his hands over and over. Bits of crusted blood still remained under his fingernails. He'd never imagined that he would be filled with enough rage to take the life of another, but time had once again proven him wrong.

He swallowed another gulp. Meg now rested in the very room above where he sat. She'd visited many times, but he'd never permitted himself to think of her as becoming one of its occupants. Time had changed things, circumstances had changed things. He wasn't at all certain where this would all lead, but he had a suspicion that his feelings would only grow with time, and he smiled as he thought about how Meg hadn't discouraged his advances, he could only imagine, she felt the same.

XXXX

Nadir smiled when he heard a rap on his door. He thought Erik would have come to discuss the plan for the morning. To talk about sitting up keeping watch in case the intruder returned. He'd thought about all of those things, and had set about making a plan to take care of the lot of them. He opened the door, and was startled to find Madame Giry. "May I come in?" She was feeling a bit forward, but she needed to talk to someone and she felt as close to him these days as she did anyone. "Certainly," he replied as he welcomed her in, pointing to the two chairs positioned by the fire.

"Nadir, I cannot sleep. I must know every detail about Meg. Was she, did that man, was there more than just the wounds that you described?"

Nadir understood her fears. He reached out putting his arm around her shoulder, leading her to the chair. "Madame, you may rest assured that Meg was not robbed of her virtue."

Madame Giry let out an audible sigh of relief. "I so feared, from what you described…" her face wet with tears. "I am most thankful, most thankful."

Nadir walked over to the decanter that he'd brought with him when he retired for the evening. Without her permission, he poured Madame Giry a small inch of it in a glass. He returned, giving it to her. "For medicinal purposes, I assure you." He tapped her knee as she stared at it in the glass, and then raised it to her lips.

"Raoul was quite shaken when I arrived," he said now pouring another glass for himself.

"It is still a mystery to me why Meg would return so early, without telling us. Something must have happened to make her leave Paris." She looked forlornly at Nadir.

He hesitated, he'd promised Raoul he'd say nothing. "It couldn't have been anything serious, or she surely wouldn't have agreed to accompany him back to Paris now would she?"

Madame Giry sighed again, "I suppose you're right. It is simply perplexes me, she had no reason to worry about us, no reason to return early." Nadir nodded his head. The pair sat in silence.

"Nadir? What do you make of Christine's dreams…have you ever known of such a thing before? How could she have known?"

Nadir looked down, he'd shared only bits and pieces of his past with anyone other than Erik, and revealing too much now did not seem wise. "Yes, I've seen it before, though never in one quite so young."

"Seen it before?" Madame Giry looked confused.

Nadir huffed, sitting back in his chair, rubbing his chin. "It is both a blessing and a curse….telling of the future is. One can see things that others cannot, it haunts them, it comes to them when they sleep, when they are awake. And though they try to escape it, it will not release its grip on their minds."

Madame Giry listened in horror as Nadir described what some he had encountered had struggled with. "They call them Seers." He said, breathing in deeply. "They live with memories, thoughts, of places, things, and faces most of whom they do not know. If this is what plagues Christine, I dare say she will come to suffer for it."

XXXXX

Erik entered the room to find Christine sitting at the newly uncovered vanity, quietly brushing her hair. She turned around slightly, seeing it was him, she smiled, and turned her attentions back to combing out her long dark locks.

Erik had tied the silk sheet over his shoulder, swathing it around his waist, it looked like something the Grecians would have worn, a toga of sorts. Christine's was merely wrapped just underneath her arms, knotted at one side.

Erik smiled as he made his way over to where she sat, holding his side, leaning down to put a singular kiss on her left shoulder. She glanced up at his reflection in the mirror, smiling coyly. "It amazes me how you'd procured all of these things…had them here…it's as if you'd known I'd be here…." She trailed off.

Erik came to rest on his knees, just slightly to the left of her, looking up into her eyes. "It was but a dream my dear…a longing hope of my heart…and now you are here…we are here," he said reaching up to lightly run his hand across her abdomen. She smiled, sitting down the brush, sliding her hand under his face, she leaned down and passed a fluttering kiss across his lips.

Erik stood, reaching down pulling Christine up into his arms, holding her closely to him. When their skin touched, it was such reassurance to their souls that all would be right with the world, somehow made right. There was such magnetism, as if the two parts of a whole could not be kept separate, not made complete, could not exist without the other. They stood in the middle of that large room, holding each other dearly. Compassionately rubbing their hands along each other's backs. Christine's head nestled in Erik's chest, his head leaned down covering hers.

How Erik wanted to lift Christine into his arms as he had so many times before, but he had to be realistic, a quality that was not in his strong suit. Rather choosing to be prudent, he slid his hand down to hers and led her quietly to the bed.

Christine moved slowly up the two stairs of the pedestal until she came to the edge of it, Erik followed her. As she leaned back, pushing the covers away with her hands, Erik came to rest next to her, his eyes smoldering, though she could see pain behind the passion.

Christine slid in to her familiar place in the crook of his arm, placing her cheek and her hand on his chest. "Erik, I do so share in your desires, my advances earlier yesterday in the garden no doubt betrayed me. But I worry…."

Erik looked down at her, lifting her chin so that he could look into her eyes. "Is it the doctor, has he said that we…" Christine kissed his chest gently, returning his gaze. "No my dear….I worry about you. You've been aware of your surroundings for only three days…you've had much to process…much to think about."

He looked down at her, his brow furrowed with concern. She reached up and touched his cheek, her hand sliding along his jaw. "Erik, no doubt you worry, you brood….I can see it in your eyes." Erik glanced away, the smoldering in his eyes now being replaced with another more distant reflective gaze.

"Erik, you could no more protect Meg, than I could have prevented having that dream. There is much that neither of us understand, but will have to accept. Raoul.." Erik felt himself pulling away from Christine. But she continued "Raoul, has been a part of our lives for a long while now. And try though we might, it seems we will not escape him for some time to come. I do not understand why he's taken Meg away from her mother, from us, but I have to trust his intentions are honorable, that he was doing what he believed to be best for her."

Erik closed his eyes. He knew so much more than Christine. He didn't want to burst this tiny bubble of reprieve that they'd created tonight, and tell her of what he knew. He decided to be silent. Perhaps listening would satisfy her for now.

She continued. "I do think Raoul has become rather fond of Meg. Perhaps even more so than anyone realizes." Erik looked down at her "whatever makes you think that Christine? That would only further complicate things." Christine began running her hand across Erik's chest drawing patterns…something she did when she was nervous or distracted, he'd learned that about her. She propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at Erik.

"The dream…I'd not shared all of the dream." Erik, ran his hand up along her back, pulling her once more to the security of his chest. "Do tell me Christine, it is safe here, no one else will know of what you speak." She let out a shuddered sigh.

"While we played cribbage tonight, I'd seen flashes of light, as though the room we were in held ghosts of times past." Erik pulled her closer, rubbing her shoulders. "Go on." She felt foolish sharing these visions, it was as if she'd gone mad and her mind wandered to places it couldn't possibly have been. "I saw darkness, a lifeless body on the ground, and Raoul….Raoul, holding Meg in his arms. Her face was swollen, the fabric of her dress torn to shreds, and he was crying." She paused, stifling an urge to cry. "Then, another flash of light, and I saw him standing by a window, Meg up in his arms."

Erik knew….Nadir was right in his assessment…Christine had the gift.

"Christine, that does not mean…" she interrupted him "there is more. While you visited with the doctor tonight, as I sat at the vanity, I saw Meg. She too sat at a vanity…in a rather curious room. A large bed, silk curtains, elaborate ornaments all about…she was brushing her hair. It was eerie really…almost like we were sitting on opposite sides of the same mirror. Though I could see her, she could not see me." Christine's eyes looked as though she were a million miles from the bed she now shared with Erik. He'd seen that look before in the eyes of another, and it had frightened him then, but it terrified him, for her sake, now.

"Then it changed, somehow changed," Christine's gaze moved, her eyes seemed focused on an image that Erik could not see. "Meg was lying down on the bed, silk sheet pulled up under her chin, Raoul was talking to her, telling her not to worry, and then….I saw him kiss her." Christine let out a gasp.

Erik closed his eyes. It had only been four months ago when she herself had been engaged to this man. Though she was now married to him, carried their child within her very womb, it was obvious in her face that she still held a fleeting fascination with Raoul. In parts of his heart that he'd kept guarded even yet, it made him sad. Some part of her hadn't let go of Raoul, even now.

"Christine, do not worry about Raoul, about Meg, they both….." Christine's blinked through her foggy thoughts as she pushed herself back up to rest on her elbow. "Oh Erik, do not think that I was….no….that is not at all what I was thinking…."

Erik felt a small wave of relief wash over him. "Then Christine, what is it?" Christine settled back into Erik's arms.

"We shall be parted…all of us shall be parted, I can feel it." She sighed, pulling herself even closer to Erik. "I had so hoped, after our reunion at Sara's, our flight from Paris, our long stay together at Courtland Manor, that we had somehow made a new life for ourselves…all of us…together."

Erik understood now. Christine was mourning what she knew would come to pass. She was still so young, and yet her wisdom, and her gift, grew each day.

Erik had found his soul mate, his split-apart, someone who could understand the workings of his mind, the depths of his despair, the intricate details of worry, of foreboding. He would once again have to be her teacher, but now, the subject matter would be far less tangible, more abstract, and a depth of darkness that even made Erik tremble. He would have to teach her, lead her, through battles with the demons in her mind. This they would move through together, one thought at a time.

Erik reached down, taking Christine's trembling lips into his. "I love you Christine. I will help you. This gift frightens you. Memories of a future that has not yet been haunt you. You will learn to come to terms with such things…but for now, you must seek shelter in something familiar, tangible, powerful….it is the only way. There is no way out of this, simply a way through." He rubbed her back reassuringly. "Now, do you know of the Psalms?" Christine looked at Erik inquisitively, "yes, but how does that help me now?" Erik looked down at her, a seriousness in his eyes.

"I've much to share with you my dear, and I shall in time, but for this moment, let me just say, that in my darkest hours, the twenty-third Psalm brought me comfort. Yeah though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…." Christine and Erik recited it together.

It brought an eerie calm to the room. In each other's arms they found such comfort. Though when the night began Erik's intentions had been more of passion than of peace, now, he wanted nothing more this night than to hold and protect this woman in his arms until she drifted off to sleep.


	86. Casting Colors

Chapter 86 Casting colors 

Madame Giry woke, her neck was stiff, and she could feel the heaviness of having fallen asleep sitting upright. The combination of the brandy and her weariness had gotten the best of her.

She startled as she heard the exhalation of another just next to her. Her eyes flew open, and it was then that she realized she'd fallen asleep in front of the fire, her head resting on Nadir's shoulder. She was aghast. How could she have found herself in such an improper position?

She slowly removed herself from Nadir's arm. Straightening her dress, she moved toward the door taking great pains to move as quietly as was possible. She opened it, breathing a sigh of relief that the outside corridor was unoccupied. She slipped down the short distance to her room and moved to the window seat.

The sun was barely rising, and yet she was fully awake, and quite aware that she'd spent the night in the company of man, the first time since her husband died. True, nothing that even hinted of impropriety had taken place, yet she felt ashamed.

She pushed back the tendrils of hair that had become loosened. Her thoughts wandered to Meg. Raising a silent prayer to the heavens. Meg no doubt wondered about her obvious absence. She anxiously awaited their departure to join Meg at her side.

She stood, tucking the stray hair into her somewhat disheveled bun. She would find her way to the kitchen, putting a pot of coffee on the stove, and perhaps frying up the remnants of ham and eggs from the previous evening. With no bread available, the cake would have to suffice as a substitute. The smell of brewing coffee would certainly make the gentlemen stir without Madame Giry having to wake them formally.

XXX

Meg opened her eyes, stretching her arms above her head. She raised her hand to her face, gently rubbing her left eye, running her hand over the small slit of her right. The swelling was slightly less than it had been before, but the skin was far more tender to the touch. She could barely open her right lid, perceiving only a faint hint of light through it.

She pulled herself to a sitting position looking around the room. In the light of day, it was far more luxurious than it had been by candlelight. The sun was glinting off the multi-faceted crushed stone on the mirror. She looked at the elaborate canopy of fabrics that crowned the head of the bed, and draped elegantly down and over the end of the posters. The walls were adorned with some of the most exquisite tapestries she'd ever seen. Raoul had instructed her to make a mental note of the things she would like to have removed, and thus far, she could think of nothing that seemed to not belong.

The knowledge that Christine had never seen…never known of these things, made it much easier. Perhaps Raoul himself hadn't even selected them, perhaps had delegated that task to someone else…that would make it easier still.

She slid her feet to the floor, and walked over to the closet. She had nothing to wear, nothing at all, so if but for today, she would have to select a garment from the collection inside. Christine was slightly taller than Meg, but in all other respects their size was about the same. She opened the doors to the dressing chamber and moved inside.

One kerosene lamp sat on a high chest of drawers, so Meg lit it to widen her view of the contents. She still felt an eerie presence, but shrugged it off. It might well have been a residual fog of the medications from last night.

There was so much to choose from that it made Meg's head swim. No doubt each fabric had a suitable purpose, and she'd not want something too frilly. Rather a simple dress, if one could be found, would be most suitable. After a half-hour's time, there was a gentle rap on the door. "Young Miss? Wake now?" Meg leaned out of the closet, calling out to Madeline. "Yes, do come in." Meg welcomed the opinion of someone who might know of these things.

"Madeline, do come in here. I must select something to wear, and I haven't an idea of what it should be." Madeline took Meg by the hand and led her over to the vanity. "You brush hair, I find dress." Meg smiled at her, as Madeline patted her on the shoulder. She would come to be a trusted friend, Meg could feel it.

Madeline reappeared in a few minutes time with a lovely peach colored gown. It was elegant, yet understated, tastefully adorned with small flowered embroidery. "This good for you, not too warm." Madeline laid it on the bed, and went to retrieve the other necessities.

Meg brushed her hair, noticing how painful the crown of her head was to the touch. She felt in her hair, a small clump of scabbing had formed there. No doubt she would discover much more as her body came to life. Madeline walked behind her, pulling her hair up into a satin ribbon, fastening it loosely at the nape of Meg's neck. "Now come, we dress you."

Madeline helped Meg stand, walking her over to the bed, assisting her with the under garments. Once the corset was in place, the dress was slipped over Meg's head, and the final ribbons were tied. "Most beautiful miss Meg." Madeline took her over to the mirror and tilted it so Meg could see the full length of the dress. Madeline was right, it was beautiful!

"Now come, go breakfast, Vicomte waits you." Meg took in a deep breath, holding onto Madeline's hand. "No worry father gone, just you Raoul." Meg was relieved, although not entirely. While Raoul's father made her nervous, that feeling withered in comparison to having to look Raoul in the eye in the full light of day. If she was to stay there, she would have to find a way to resolve this in her mind. If she refused Raoul now, his feelings would be hurt, and any hope of a future might be lost. She'd have to talk to her mother when she arrived.

Madeline had waited patiently, as Meg tarried, but now she reached out and patted Meg's hand. "No worry, no worry, he's nice man, he smiles for you!" Meg lowered her head blushing, and then leaned over and pecked Madeline's cheek. "Thank you," she said smiling at her, "I am ready now."

Madeline led her out of the room and down the staircase to the dining room, where Raoul stood to greet her. "Come, let us have something to eat. Then we shall discuss our plans for today." He pushed the chair in under her as he nodded to Madeline. "Thank you." Meg replied as Raoul took his place in a chair across the table.

"I trust you slept well?" Meg stopped and thought, she had actually slept well, no dreams, no memory of even falling asleep. The last thing she really remembered was Raoul bending over her kissing her. She didn't think she would ever be able to get that out of her mind….not as long as she lived.

"Meg?" Raoul reached out his hand and touched hers. She shook her head, "yes, quite. The room is very lovely, the bed divine. Whatever the physician administered certainly performed as he claimed it would."

Raoul smiled, he was relieved. He himself had slept fitfully after his bath. Though he'd scrubbed every trace of the murder from his hands, he could still feel it screaming from his pores. He shook his head, thinking to himself, it was like the story penned by Edgar Allan Poe… 'The Telltale Heart'. There was something very haunting about the lethality, finality of a life claimed in such a heinous way, even in the name of self-defense. Tonight, when the doctor visited, he would see if there was something he could give him.

"I was thinking Meg, it would be a lovely afternoon to sit in the gardens. Do you enjoy watercolors?"

Meg blinked. He couldn't possibly have known, in fact no one knew. In the farthest recesses of the attic in the Opera House, Meg had a small corner where she would go when she was feeling blue, or a bit anxious. Even Christine hadn't known of it. It had been Meg's haven. And in it, she had the small easel that her father had given her the last Christmas he was alive. She'd borrowed paints and brushes from vast supply that was always on hand in the props department. She loved painting watercolor; it was soothing to her. At the peak of the roofline from the attic, Meg could look out at the most beautiful skyline of Paris. She'd painted it countless times.

"Meg?" Raoul called out to her. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Yes, yes of course. It is just that…well…I love water color, very much, but I've never spoken of it to another soul. It seemed a silly past-time for a chorus girl, only girls of good breeding are allowed to dabble in such fancy." Meg smiled at Raoul, the half of her lips not burdened by the swelling rising like a small slivered half-moon.

"Good, it is something we shall both enjoy. Truth be told, my father has always disapproved of my passion for it really. No son of his would strut about like an itinerant painter!" Raoul said in a mocking fashion. That made Meg laugh.

In spite of recent developments to the contrary, Meg and Raoul had grown to be close friends, and that was such a comfort in times like these.

Madeline appeared bearing a large silver platter, with serving dishes of eggs and ham, simmered winter fruits, a potted porridge, and toast. The china in front of Meg was beautiful, she marveled at it.

"It was a favorite pattern of my mother's," Raoul said as he lifted Meg's plate and began to serve her. Madeline looked confused, but Raoul nodded, just for today, he preferred to do this himself.

"It is exquisite!" Raoul smiled as Meg lifted the teacup to examine it.

"I had it brought here when I moved from the Chagny mansion. My father kept it tucked away in a cupboard, and it was never used. It would have made my mother very sad indeed. She preferred it over any other pattern, as it had been her own mother's wedding china."

Meg suddenly felt as though she'd seen a small glimpse into Raoul's fondness for his mother. "We used it every day for tea, just the two of us," Raoul was smiling as he recanted the memory. "The day she died, father had it packed away, and it hadn't seen the light of day until I brought it here. Now, I use it every day."

"That is most special, I feel honored that you'll share it with me." Meg said, dipping her utensil into her sauce. Raoul went about pouring tea into their cups, again tending to every detail with two splashes of cream and a dot of sugar in Meg's cup.

As they ate they talked of things that both of their mothers had done to make their childhood special. Meg's mother was fond of note writing, Raoul's mother of reading to him from the great contemporary authors.

When they were finished, Madeline, almost on cue, came in to collect the dishes. She smiled at both of them coyly, trying not to make it known. She could see it, feel it…something was in the air.

XXXXXX

Christine had risen before Erik. She marveled that he still slept. She slipped into the water closet, noticing that the plumbing was not fully functional, she'd have to retrieve a basin of water and warm it on the stove to take a sponge bath. She slipped on her dress from the day before, without the corset, and made her way down to the kitchen, basin in hand.

Before she even reached the top of the stairs she could smell the freshly brewing coffee. Though it was a little unsettling for her stomach recently, she decided a cup might be just what she needed this morning. They'd have a long day ahead, no doubt disagreements would arise about the timing, the departure and the mode of transportation, but it should all be resolved quite quickly so everyone could be on their way.

Once outside of the kitchen, Christine could hear someone cracking eggs on the side of a bowl. No doubt Madame Giry had been up earlier than even she herself had. "Good morning," she said as she walked in the room.

"Christine, you are up! I'd rather hoped my commotion would raise the gentlemen of the house instead!" Christine smiled, walking over to the cupboard retrieving a cup and saucer. Everything had been wrapped in blue tissue paper, so it felt like opening something that had never been used.

Madame Giry poured a cup for Christine, and the pair sat at the small servant's table in the kitchen by the window. "I hope you do not mind eggs and ham."

Christine smiled. "I shan't mind anything today. I wish only to see you on your way to Meg." Madame Giry smiled, putting her cup back in its saucer. "I am rather anxious myself."

Christine said "oh, how I'd love to accompany you, but I know it isn't feasible. Do make sure that Meg knows that I am thinking of her by day, praying for her by night." Madame Giry smiled, "indeed I shall." Christine rose with her and the two went about preparing a breakfast for the lot of them.

XXXX

Nadir awoke. He rubbed his chin, scratching fiercely at his beard. The last he remembered, he and Madame Giry were talking in front of the fire, and he had been trying to comfort her. "Must've dozed off, and she slipped out," he said out loud. He looked over at the bed. And though it looked inviting, he saw the light rising in the windows and knew he'd best get started.

Down the hall Erik was waking too. He stretched his arms high above his head, bringing his hands down to his face as the nerve in his right cheek began to twitch. The brow above his right eye itched incessantly. Though he'd resisted the urge to simply tear away the flesh, he vigorously rubbed his thumbnail over the area, trying to relieve the sensation. It was then that he realized that his stretching hadn't caused him any pain. He sat up, carefully examining the bandages. There had been no drainage for a second night in a row, surely that was a very good sign. Soon he hoped, he could be rid of the infernal bandaging altogether.

As Nadir dressed, he felt the paper in his left jacket pocket. He retrieved it to look at it closely. It was as if he was looking into the future. There, Erik stood over a small boy playing in the sand. The woman behind him was not Christine, yet still it didn't disturb the mental picture Nadir had in his mind's eye. He'd do some investigating. He'd have to find a suitable place to stow the picture, he couldn't risk taking it with him to Paris. Somewhere that Erik or Christine would never look. The library was too obvious, someone might see him. The room was not safe, for surely Erik would have the maid clean up after them when he returned to the manor.

"Ah, I've the perfect place." Nadir strolled down to the sun room. Surely this wouldn't be used now, and no one had slept in it, so it would escape the attention of the maids. He looked around for a place to tuck it. There on the floor was Meg's papers, strewn about haphazardly. Nadir collected them, reading a few brief lines. He quickly folded them and put them in his pocket. When he was in Paris, he would return them to Meg, or destroy them, whatever suited her. He reached high above the top shelf in the cupboard, and laid the picture flat. Unless someone was eight feet tall, they would never find the picture. He'd return before the fall, certainly by then he'd have some answers. At least he hoped he would.

**Author's Notes:**

**Captain Oblivious**: I must tell you, you've created a monster! Yes, I am holding you entirely responsible for my lack of sleep this past weekend. I spent hour upon hour looking at all sorts of videos of our beloved Gerard. The link you suggested led to another, and another, and another, until I was entirely lost in cyberland with Gerry dancing above my head like sugarplums on Christmas Eve! Not that it was unpleasant mind you.  Hmmm…. I just never knew this world existed. Out on the GB website, there is a video contest raging, and that is where I spent Saturday night until 2:00 a.m. Too bad I had to be up at 6:00! I've turned into a bat-bird….a new creature that stays up with the bats, but gets up with the birds….oh where is my diet coke…I think I need some caffeine! Hoping you've received your Dracula 2000 DVD safe and sound. I've just ordered the UK DVD "The Jury". I wasn't going to do it…then I saw one of the videos for it set to the music of "Moulin Rouge" and one thing led to another…oh what's another $ 38 anyway! Amazon and Visa are just loving me right now!

O.K., back to the story. Yes, it seems rather cruel of Raoul, but he'd no idea that he'd ever be bringing Meg there. By the time you read this you will see that I'd already been thinking along the same lines. But we shall have to see how Meg reacts, time will tell. Yes, good books. I wished I had that leather-bound collection myself! I do have a leather bound collection of Edgar Allen Poe that belonged to my great grandfather, hence a Poe reference in a future chapter!

Now, I am smiling fiendishly as I write this, imagining myself to be Erik, holding a sword to your side, forcing you to read 'Old Curiosity Shop' just to learn about the game of Cribbage. But alas, I do not have the stature or finesse to pull that off, not to mention I have no idea where you live! So, I can simply tell you it is a game that involves a wooden board with a number of pegs and a deck of cards. I must warn you, it is rather addictive if you begin playing it. Though I wish everyone had learned about the game through the great literary work as Erik and Nadir had, I hope that they might be interested in learning now! Here's a link if you're interested in finding out more. you enjoy the next chapters! I think though things are much kinder, they are still no less complicated!

**Phantomluvr**: Yes, much nicer indeed. I couldn't do that to you two weekends in a row! Punjabbing aside, I've rather gotten used to people taking a poke at me now and then! Thanks for staying with the story!

**Christine de Nuit:** Thank you for the compliment! Yes things are getting better. SOOO much life ahead of them, so much to look forward to! Waiting for me only adds to the enjoyment of something….perhaps anticipation has a joy all it's own! Hope you enjoy the next chapters!

**Crayann**: If you could see me now, you'd see a pair of crimson cheeks, a blush from the humility I feel when I receive such compliments. Thank you. Ultimately I want everyone who reads anything produced in fanfiction to be as happy as I am to have found it. This is the one place we can all be serious, or hilarious, and we are free to exercise our own set of values and options to find happiness. Literature is merely a distraction from the normal cares of life. If it makes someone sad, they should move on to find something that makes them happy. One doesn't have to look far in the real world to find something to put a frown on their face. I hope that person finds what they are looking for, even if it means leaving our little "family" of readers. I hope you enjoy the next chapters.

Just so you know, I've no intentions of stopping writing until all of the ideas for this family have run their due course!

**PhantomFan13:** I don't know if you will find this before or after you return from your camping expedition, but either way I hope it was a relaxing time for you. Being parted from our computers is painful….it feels like someone has removed one of your limbs!

And on to the story….as for the picture that started this whole crazy thing, no…Nadir has not forgotten about it at all. In fact, it occupies quite a lot of his thoughts, he is simply a very calculating man, and is choosing his time wisely. How's that for being vague? I don't want to give any spoilers. I for one, love suspense!

Thank you for your encouraging words. Right now I would feel like I cut off a limb if I were to quit. I'm feeling a little bit like Dickens, and this story has become MY favorite child! I will not quit unless God smites me dead, or the story comes to a completely perfect ending.  So, if the updates quit abruptly, you'll know God has spoken! (Sorry, I'm feeling a bit sleep deprived, and quite silly….)

**Idonno**: Welcome to the family! I don't think I've heard from you before… Interesting tag name….hmmmm it makes me feel oh…I don't know… (sorry, sleep deprivation has made me a bit giddy!) Yes, this revision is not one for those who prefer short stories. I have been accused by English teachers, friends, family, and a few others, of being far too verbose a person. Try though I might, I simply get lost in the language and cannot help myself! If you decide to stay with us, I can promise you an interesting ride, but alas, few short chapters. Hope you enjoy!

**Stormyrainedoncowgirl**: I'm happy to hear you are enjoying the story! The chapter number on your review has me a bit confused, because I think we first met somewhere in a much later chapter…hmmm….irregardless, I'm glad to have you back.!


	87. Realignment

Chapter 87 Realignment 

Raoul's father had gone to the Opera House. Details of the opening gala were taking fine shape, now he'd have to meet with his managers to determine the plan for re-staffing. Though he was a stubborn, and obnoxious man, Mr. Firmin, and Mr. Adre were thankful that he was the Patron for they knew of few other men who could have saved the Opera House from the ashes in the way that he had. Today would be a busy one for them all.

XXXXX

Raoul and Meg were in the garden. Easels and fine chairs positioned along side the reflecting pool that overlooked the rose gardens that were just beginning to show signs of life. The mid-morning sun was at their backs, and dainty easels set out in front of them. A pot of warm tea and honey sat on a table between them, along with two teacups,….from his mother's collection. He'd never shared tea in them with anyone except his mother….until today.

Raoul had made several passing strokes on his paper. A muted landscape had begun taking shape. Meg had concentrated first on the rose bushes, imagining them in the full bloom of summer. Raoul laughed as the pair sat back critiquing the other's work.

He said, "if you'd put them together you'd have a rather beautiful beginning to a work of art!" Meg laughed, and the pair fell silent. The metaphor striking a chord in both of their minds.

Meg leaned back in her chair, resting her head against the thick blanket that was behind her. "The sky is so lovely this time of year. Spring is such an intriguing season. All things are waking up…..all things seem possible." Meg was staring dreamily into the pale sky. A few wispy clouds floated above them. Raoul smiled. Meg was something of an optimist. That was a quality he had come to appreciate in her over the last months.

He replied "yes, it is a wonderful time of year." They turned and smiled at one another before gazing back into the vast blueness that was the sky.

XXXXX

"I'd say it was a crime of vengeance, if my word means anything." The officer said to the chief. "It all seems to make sense to me really. His father was Joseph Crawling! I'd not made the connection early when he'd applied for his license to operate, after all there are so many Crawlings in this City!" The chief did not look amused.

"With a last name like that, a brand new carriage….good man….what were you thinking!" His comment being more of a demeaning statement than a question.

"We will have to handle this situation delicately I'm afraid. The authorities of that little village would be most unhappy if we were to tell them of this." "Hmmm, you're quite right." The chief rose, pouring himself his third cup of coffee for the morning.

"Are there any living relatives?" he inquired. His officer replied, "no sir, none that we are aware of. I'd not have known of the association between Joseph and Ronaldo, save for a passing conversation I overheard between two maids at the Starboard this morning."

"Comment, what comment?" The chief looked rather irritated. He did not appreciate being kept in the dark on such matters.

"I dined alone this morning, and overheard a conversation between two of the maids at the Starboard. The one said to the other that young Ronaldo had left on an assignment for one of the innkeepers, and hadn't been heard from since, having neglected to pay his bill. They seemed quite irritated."

The chief looked at him "and that led you to the conclusion that he was related to Joseph?"

"No sir, the one lady said that it would be a shame if something had happened to him, since he'd just lost his father a couple of months ago at the hands of one of his passengers. They went on to talk of what a despicable man Joseph had been."

"I see." The chief said, now rubbing his chin. "We shall have to see to the bill immediately, De Chagny will take care of it. Then, we shall have to figure out a way to dispose of his body, respectfully of course, since there is no family to make those arrangements."

He was standing now, putting on his cloak. "I'll have to talk to De Chagny myself this morning." "Yes sir," the officer said. The chief walked to the door turning around just before departing, "and his carriage? Did anyone mention what became of his carriage?" The officer shook his head. "We will have to find out if it is being boarded somewhere, and see to getting that taken care of." The officer stood, saluting his chief. "Aye sir."

XXX

The doctor had been the first to leave. He had one other obligation to tend to. His sister was expecting twins, and had entered her confinement just the day before. No doubt she would be needing him soon.

Madame Giry was at the door giving Christine one last reassuring hug. "My dear, do not worry. I'll be with Meg this very afternoon, and I'll share your greetings and prayers with her." Christine's eyes were filled with such apprehension. She'd not been away from Madame Giry for most of her life, and now she wasn't certain when she would see her again.

"My dear, I've need to be with her now, but do not think that I'd abandon you, not now." She held her close, "I've always thought of you as a daughter also my dear, I think you know that, and I shan't leave you forever. I want to see the smiling face, and kiss the tender toes of that little one," she whispered into Christine's ear. "I shall want to be here for you too, no doubt you will have many questions as time goes on, ones that only another woman can answer!" She took Christine's chin into her hands, "I'll be back to be with you before your time is near, do not worry." She kissed her cheek and turned to Nadir who was standing talking to Erik, just outside on the lawn.

"Nadir, you do remember all the things that I've told you. You'll look into Sara's family for me, about having her buried with her husband? You know where you need to look for certain things that you'll need during your stay." Erik referring to a sum of money he'd hidden in one of the libraries in the City. He felt somewhat like a squirrel that had buried nuts all over Paris, just in case he'd find himself there in need of funds. Nadir nodded.

"Erik, we've been over this, several times now. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were nervous for our departure!" Erik smiled slightly.

"Nadir, this new form of living is a wonder to me. I feel much like a foreign bird, having found myself in a new sanctuary. While it is not all displeasing, it is not yet my home."

Nadir smiled at Erik for he knew it was not the changes that drove him to such agitation, it was his lack of power over them that did so.

"Do be careful my friend." Erik reached out and squeezed Nadir's shoulder. "I do not know where that young man might be, but he is out there somewhere."

Nadir looked at him solemnly. "Are you certain that you'd not want to keep both of the coachmen here with you, with two of the horses?" Erik shook his head, "no, you should have the one man and I shall have the other. It will no doubt be only a day or so when the other carriage will return to retrieve us." Nadir nodded, and then turned to assist Madame Giry from the house.

Christine had joined Erik at his side, as they spoke their last words to Nadir and Madame Giry through the open door of the carriage. "Do travel safely, and send word of Meg's condition with the returning carriage."

"Are you not certain that you would like to have both carriages return, we could find…" Nadir stopped in his protestations. Erik's look said nearly all he needed to know.

"Nadir, what gentleman of your standing should find himself without a carriage? No, you should need it while you stay there to assist Madame Giry. I should think it would be a comfort to her also, to have this at her beck and call."

Both Madame Giry and Nadir smiled at Erik. He was thoughtful, yet again, of their needs. Erik nodded to the driver, who clicked his tongue and cracked his whip. The carriage lurched forward, off on its path to Paris. Christine and Erik stood holding hands, watching until they saw it disappear over the hill.

Erik strolled slowly with Christine back towards the house. They had the rest of the day for Erik to give her a tour, to become acquainted with where they would very likely be first be bringing their child into the world. By the time of her expected confinement, it would be fall, and nearing the time they'd normally be moving to the winter house. November was far too chilly a month to be near the sea.

The lone coachman that had stayed with them was standing at attention by the door, waiting for any orders. He'd already settled the three horses in the stable. Behind his back he held his index finger marking the place in the book that Erik had given him to read. He'd not figured on having time to consume the entire volume, but now, he had hopes that he might. Erik caught the glimmer in his eye.

"And which book did I give you sir?" The coachman produced it, with a grin, "I'm rather enjoying it Monsieur."

Erik smiled, "do not sound so surprised, I had no intentions of filling your mind with dribble. A good adventure is never a waste of time if one enjoys it. There is profit in distraction, if the circumstances permit it!" The coachman gave him a toothy smile nodding in agreement.

"Sir, is there anything that I might do for you and your wife? I've not had much training in the way of cooking, but I'd be happy to…"

"No, good sir, that shan't be necessary. There are plenty of things to nibble on here, and I could think of nothing more preferable, if I were you, than being able to finish a book that one is so obviously enamored with!"

The coachman smiled profusely at Erik. He'd have an entire day to do nothing more than relax with a good book, something he'd not done since he was a child. "Thank you sir. Please do let me know if I can be of some service to you." Erik nodded.

"When it is nearing the supper hour, what say you that the three of us head into this little town and find ourselves a proper supper?"

The coachman blinked, never having been invited by any employer to dine with them. "I'd be most honored sir, I shall see to it that the horses are ready then sir." With that he bowed slightly, nodding at Christine and departed to the stables. Though he was very thankful to have the day to himself, he preferred the stables to the comforts of the house, he simply felt more at home there.

Erik led Christine into the house. She promptly turned Erik about, kissing him on the lips. "This is the first we've been alone, truly alone in a long while. I shall enjoy having your company all to myself!"

Erik smiled down at Christine, reaching out and embracing her around the shoulders. "Let me tell you of this house Christine. It was the first one that I purchased. The first one that I furnished, so I dare say it holds a special place in my heart. I've quite a collection of literature as you can see…." Erik led her through every room in the house, stopping to tell her of the selection of art work, the furniture, the positioning of the windows, the gardens, etc.

"I'm rather fond of this room." Erik said as he opened the door to the master bedroom. Christine looked on the yet unmade bed, she smiled back at Erik. "Perhaps after our tour, we can take a nap?" Erik returned her smile, "if you are quite tired, we could finish this…" "No, no, not at all, but I do fancy a morning nap these last few weeks. I think your son might be the one who likes it best as I feel so much better when I wake!"

Erik knelt down in front of Christine, putting his ear next to her abdomen, pulling her hips to him. He began to hum a sweet familiar melody. One that he had sung to Christine when she first came to live at the Opera House. It wasn't one that he used to calm her, or to teach her, it was one simply of whimsy, to entertain her just for the sake of it.

Christine reached down and played with the curls on the top of Erik's head, running her fingers through the tangle of black locks that crowned him. "I do hope he has your lovely thick hair." Christine said, eliciting a fit of laughter from Erik.

"And I hope that she has your lovely smile my dear!" He stood, kissing her lightly on the lips, slipping his hand back into hers. "Now, I've not showed you one last room. It is one that I rather fancy, and it is most luxurious this time of the day. The sunroom, where I estimate you might spend many hours with our beautiful daughter." He flashed her a mischievous smile, having scored a point in the game of baby-tag they now played.

"I shall have a proper rocker brought in for you, nay, a pair of rockers so that we can rock together." Erik smiled. "Better still, I think I shall build one. One that we can both sit in and hold her in our arms together. Yes, a family rocker would do just fine."

Erik opened the door into the room that was filled with windows from nearly the floor to the ceiling. Indeed, he had been right, the room was awash in the golden sunlight of the morning. The daffodil color that the walls had been painted, made the sun even more radiant. Christine looked at the several lounges, and small tables.

Erik's eyes were fixed on the one that had been uncovered. He'd nearly blocked the incident from his mind in the moments leading up to this one, but now, thoughts of Meg flooded his mind.

Christine looked up at him, concern on her face as she saw that his smile had faded and been replaced with worry. "Erik, what is it that now occupies your thoughts?"

Erik replied sorrowfully, "Meg, my dear. She must have been in this room when she was here. The covering has been removed from that lounge. Yet there is no sign of a struggle, so she must not have encountered him up here."

Christine looked at the lounge and then back up at Erik. "Were you and the doctor not in this very room last night? Isn't it possible that…." Erik interrupted her "no, he chose to go back and sleep in the study on the main floor. He wanted us all to have our privacy."

Christine looked down, "I don't know if Meg will ever be up to telling us all that happened Erik, I just pray that she recovers fully." Erik sighed. He still blamed himself, likely would go on blaming himself for not having protected her, though when he was entirely rational, he knew he could have done nothing to prevent it.


	88. Chauesser

Chapter 88 Chauesser 

The small village of Chauesser, was but three miles from the winter house. Though it was tiny in size, it was self-sufficient, containing nearly every basic service that its citizens required. Funerals were not plentiful in a town so small, but it was certainly not immune to the heartbreak.

The arrival of Sara's body, while very tragic, had not been an uncommon event in these parts. The village and surrounding countryside had been witness to a number of murders in recent months, all in the name of robbery. To deprive one of their chattel is one thing. To deprive them of their life was moral depravity, and the town was quickly tiring of it. There was need for good citizens to rise up and battle for the name of Chauesser, but thus far none had stepped forward to take on this great burden.

Sara's body was cleaned and prepared, ready for its departure to Paris. A suitable dress had been purchased for her as no other clothing, save what she'd been wearing when she was shot, had been brought with her. Further arrangements were to be made, and as of yet they had not been.

XXXXXX

Meg and Raoul had moved to solarium for a leisurely lunch. Madeline had been thoughtful and prepared a pasta dish with broiled fish, something Meg would have no trouble consuming without assistance.

Raoul had once again taken care of the details of tea and serving, allowing them to enjoy one another's company almost completely uninterrupted. Raoul had been watching Meg for any signs that she was tiring. And though she felt a bit sleepy, she had no want to interrupt the pleasant time they were having. Nothing serious had been discussed, nothing from the past, nothing of the future, they simply had tarried in the moment, and that was a welcome relief. The present belonged to only them. It contained neither ghosts nor expectations, just pure enjoyment of one another's company.

When they were finished with lunch, and the laughter had subsided, Raoul noticed Meg yawn. Being the dutiful host that he was, he insisted that she lie down to rest for a spell. After her nap, they'd go for a stroll down to the greenhouse, and perhaps a carriage ride in the country. The day was simply one for taking a deep breath and relaxing, without the prying eyes of society or family. One where they were free to be themselves. The only thing they waited for was the arrival of Madame Giry. Her late arrival surprised them, but there was likely a good reason for it.

XXX

Erik and Christine had retired to the cool darkness of the master suite. Erik had drawn the curtains to block out the mid-afternoon sun.

Christine had managed to make it to the afternoon without her customary nap. Some time during the morning she had settled at Erik's feet as he'd read to her from Dickens 'Great Expectations'. The story was beautiful when read silently to oneself. But when one is read it aloud, by a voice as powerful and emotionally toned as Erik's, one nearly becomes a sponge, soaking the story into the fabric of your mind. The words leaping off the page and coming to life before your eyes.

It was at Erik's insistence that they stop. Though he used the excuse that his throat tired, it was in truth Christine's drooping eyes that bid him stop. Lunch had been the remaining slices of cake and tea, accompanied by the peanuts that Christine shelled while Erik read.

Now, Christine was curled up in Erik's strong arms, his hand gently warming her stomach as it glided over it affectionately. It surprised him every moment they were together that he could love her even more than he had the day before. Each day filled him with an appreciation for her that made his heart swell to what he was certain were the vastest reaches of it, and yet it grew a little more each day when the sun rose.

She was silently listening to his breathing pattern, and somewhere along the line, hers had been synced with his. She could feel his heart beating below his skin, and the rhythms of their hearts now beat as one. She had grown so attached to this man, to this flesh and blood. She could not imagine ever existing without him. She closed her eyes and soon drifted off into a happy, peaceful sleep. Thoughts of her husband and son dancing across her subconscious mind.

Erik, inch-by-inch, gave into the tired that beckoned him. There were hours until supper, no chores to be done, and nothing more that he wanted than to hold Christine in his arms.

XXXX

Madame Giry and Nadir had a pleasant ride back to Paris. Though they'd wanted their trip to be swift, they had to water and rest the horses. They'd stopped at the Candlelight Inn for lunch with Claire. She'd been happy to spend some time catching up on the news. She was deeply sad to learn of Meg's ordeal, and the loss of Sara. Though she'd never met her, she knew she had been a good friend to her brother's friends. While Claire didn't know the whole truth about Erik and Christine, still referring to them as Elizabeth and Stephan, she was happy to hear that they were feeling well.

The sun was barely on the Western sky when the carriage clattered into the City. The coachmen had driven straight on through the city and to the outskirts though they'd stopped to collect directions, and a small get-well gift for Meg. The shopkeeper, having been one of the men who'd helped with the search for Christine several months before, sent out a delivery messenger to the staff at Raoul's house so that their arrival could be properly anticipated.

Madeline knocked on Meg's door. Meg was resting on her bed, and Raoul had fallen asleep in the chair in the sitting room just off of the bedchamber. Though she didn't want to disturb the resting pair, she bore news that she knew both would be most eager to hear.

She walked over and touched Raoul's arm. "Vicomte, mother comes. Shopkeeper in Paris, say she comes with man." Raoul shook himself awake. He stood, pushing his hair into place, rubbing his eyes. His gaze quickly darted to Meg. She was still asleep.

"Come Madeline, let us leave Meg to rest. Prepare the parlor for their arrival. I'll go to the kitchen to give instructions for supper. Then, prepare the two guest rooms for our new visitors." Madeline nodded, but paused turning back to him. "Sir, two rooms connected by door? Woman be safe there?"

Raoul looked down, he'd forgotten those rooms were built to house guests with children. He thought a moment. "For now, it shall have to do. We have no other accommodations, the other rooms are not yet finished. If the lady is not comfortable, we will make other arrangements." Just what they would be he wasn't certain, but he would find something.

Madeline hurried on her way to the parlor. Raoul issued orders most quickly in the kitchen before departing to the stables. He'd make sure that a carriage would have a proper place in there as well as suitable room for several horses. He anticipated that it might be Nadir who accompanied Meg's mother, but he wasn't certain. The stable master would see to it that there would be a place for the coachman to stay the night.

All was in place, the house was ready. His mending guest lay sleeping upstairs. Raoul sat in the parlor, looking out at the road that led to the front of his house. Surely it would be soon, and he'd see a carriage. He would wait on his guests. No doubt his father would be along soon, as the sun was beginning to set. He'd finally have the pleasure of introducing the men, though he'd have preferred under different circumstances.

**Author's Notes:**

**Captain Oblivious**: Pauly Shore? My goodness, you are a multi-faceted creature! He is such a goof ball. I think the last thing I saw that he was in was 'Bio-Dome' or something to that effect. Yikes, yet another weapon for your arsenal. I was just becoming accustomed to defending against swords and incisors! Thank heavens the glomping has subsided!

Yes, well, I have no intentions of inserting an eight-foot giant into the story, although your thoughts of dusting would have been good. I've something in mind, but I shan't tell you for that would spoil the fun!

The cribbage thing…you mean you didn't run out and by the Dickens classic to learn about it? I might just have to pull out that sword after all! Perhaps Gerry would borrow me the one he had when he was on "Dressed to Kilt", oooh laa laa. It was the one of William Wallace. Oh, I suppose I shall relent. The site is www (dot) cribbage (dot) org. Now I understand why you chose to type it the way you did. I was beginning to worry that you'd suffered a breakdown!

Last, but not least. I rather enjoyed the "requiem" video, although I really rather enjoyed them all! The one you referenced "You drive us wild" well, it speaks for itself! I've thought myself to be a bit too fixated on someone I would never meet, but my fascination pales in comparison to what some of these fans have done. Oh, the one that made me cry was "good-bye" under the Phantom category. "Irresistible" was great too! If I were Gerry, I'd like the one set to "I'm ready to fly". That is rather moving and probably states exactly where he is in his career. I wish the best for this talented man. He's certainly worked hard enough to earn it.

**Stellalorilai:** Hotmail isn't a very happy place for me right now. I was able to open your e-mail over the weekend. But sadly, all of the messages that I sent out, never arrived at their destinations. I was very sad because I'd typed several chapters and e-mailed them to my other account, and being rather too trusting of electronic devices, didn't save the original, so I was forced to start from scratch.! My own fault. By the way, I very much appreciated the information, and no, I didn't mind being tracked down at all! I've often wondered myself if that would be a more appropriate venue for some of my rather lengthy responses to my reviewers. I hope you enjoy the next chapters. Not as many literary references as the last ones, I'm afraid, but more of the cotton-candy fluff that I'm rather fond of too.

**Phantomluvr**: Thank you. It doesn't seem possible that I've been writing this story that long, but I have, and it just continues to grow in my mind! There is so much coming up yet….I am very excited about some of the newer developments! Peaceful endings may not always be possible, but they've certainly had their fair share of heartache in recent chapters, so they were due for a reprieve. Hope you enjoy the next chapters!


	89. Burying the Past, the Dead, the Truth

Chapter 89 Burying--the dead, the past, the truth 

The chief left De Chagny's office at the Opera House. Instructions and money secured safely in his satchel. He'd take care of repaying the Starboard first. His officers no doubt had done the necessary research on the carriage. His next stop was the mortuary, where the body of the man, Ronaldo Crawlings, laid awaiting disposition. De Chagny had decided to pay to have him buried along-side his father.

The chief had no inclination to question Raoul further. From the report he'd received from the officer from the previous night's interviews, Raoul had done nothing more than defend himself, and the lady's honor. There could be nothing disrespectful, or even hinting of improprieties. The man would be buried, and that would be the end of the murderous reign that family had on the travelers and residents of the villages surrounding Paris. So many criminals were left, he sighed, but at least this bloodline was finished!

XXX

The coachman knocked on the door to the master bedroom. "Sir? It is nearing evening, and I have the horses ready sir, if you and your wife are still inclined to take supper in the village."

Erik could hear the faint voice through his sleep. He'd been dreaming, but the voice did not fit with the dream. It was something of an anomaly. He strained trying to focus on it. It was then that he realized that someone was actually knocking at the door; it was not his imagination.

"Yes, I beg of you a moment." He pulled himself out from under Christine's sleeping body, trying not to disturb her. Going to the door, he slipped on his waistcoat. Opening it he stepped out into the hall to address the coachman. "Yes, I see that the sun is beginning to cover the West lawn, indeed, it should be time for supper. Now good sir if you'll prepare the horses…"

The coachman stopped, looking down at the floor refraining from any response that might appear disrespectful. "You've already conveyed this to me haven't you?" Erik asked, somewhat embarrassed by his lack of attention. "Yes sir, the horses are ready for us whenever you and your wife should like to depart."

"Yes, I'll see to waking her." He turned opening the door. "It shall be a few minutes only. We shall meet you downstairs." The coachman smiled and departed. He'd had a leisurely day reading, and had but a few chapters left of the book. There would be time to finish it after supper, unless his employer had other plans for him.

Erik walked over and gently rubbed Christine's shoulder. Bending down he placed a delicate kiss on the nape of her neck. It made her smile. She was in that half-sleep that one swims in when yet not fully awake, yet not in slumber any longer.

She stretched her arms above her head as Erik stood over her watching like a dotting husband. She barely had opened her eyes before she started smiling at him. "Must we leave this place?" she said rubbing her hand on the side of the bed that Erik had vacated.

Erik smiled. "I should think you'd be ready for a good supper my dear." He reached down putting his hand lightly on her stomach. "Our daughter should be needing milk, and a breast of chicken at least!"

Christine smiled back at him playfully. "Our SON is rather hungry for roasted beef tonight, and some Yorkshire pudding!"

Erik laughed, scooping Christine up into his arms like an infant, twirling her about in the room.

"ERIK!" Christine yelped. "What is it, have I hurt you?" Erik said with a concerned inflection in his voice, quickly setting her back on the bed. "No, no, you've not hurt me, but you shan't be lifting me, not in your condition!"

Erik blinked rapidly. He'd become lost in the moment, and hadn't thought…..but then he thought….he felt no worse. He had no pain in his side. He lifted his shirt to inspect the bandages. Still no sign of drainage. "Hmmmm…I should think that it is alright my dear."

She frowned at him, though it was hard to do fighting through a smile of joy.

"Yes my dear, I will be careful…I want to make sure our DAUGHTER has a healthy father to…" Christine interrupted, "to give her piggy-back rides!" She smiled at him like a Cheshire cat.

"Why you little rogue, you've been talking to the doctor now haven't you?" She let out a laugh, "well, I have spent time with him you know my dear!" Erik laughed, as he pulled Christine into a firm but gentle embrace. "Now, that you are properly rested, let us see to feeding the two of you."

He took her hand and led her to the vanity. Christine sat down and began combing her hair. Erik straightened his suit. It was heavily wrinkled, not at all what he was comfortable with, but he'd no choice. Christine finished putting her hair up into the ribbon. She looked at Erik's reflection in the mirror. A look of deep thought had taken over his otherwise cheery demeanor. "What is it Erik?"

He came to rest on his knees behind her, kissing her shoulder. She turned around to face him. "It is just that this will be my first time in the company of strangers….without…my mask."

Christine was overwhelmed with sympathy for him. She'd loved him as her husband and no longer saw what he did. She had months herself to become accustomed to his new features, but quickly realized that Erik had but a few days to have become comfortable with it. She reached out and put both hands on Erik's face. She kissed the left cheek and then the right. "If you do not yet feel ready, we could simply send the coachman into the village to retrieve supper." She said, gently caressing his cheek.

Erik stood, walking over to the window looking down at the coachman who patiently waited with the horses. He closed his eyes. "Last night was one thing. You'd all been exposed to my appearance, had grown to find it normal. It was a marvel really as I watched everyone's reaction….they treated me no differently than the rest." He smiled at her over his shoulder.

Erik felt a strange tangle of emotions churning within him. Save the times he had been with Christine, Nadir, or Madame Giry, he had never felt that equal with anyone. "It was brilliant to have spent time like an…an ordinary man…" He turned back looking at her. "Christine, I rather fear the prying eyes of strangers. We are far from Paris, I do not worry that we'll be discovered. Its simply that I do not know if they shall view me as you have come to."

Christine rose and joined Erik at the window. "My dearest Erik. Your face is beautiful," she said caressing it with the back of her hand. "You'll be treated no differently than any other man. Yes, there are marks, faint now, and your eyebrow is not yet completed its growth, but do you not think they will merely assume that you were injured in the war?"

Erik looked down at Christine. She always knew what to say to him. He'd known many intelligent women, many powerful men, kings and queens, lords and ladies, and yet none of them spoke as profoundly to his heart as this one woman. He leaned down kissing her. "There is something I've not told you Christine," he paused.

Christine cocked her head just slightly giving Erik and inquisitive glance. "Sara's last words to me…she said God had smiled on me, that it was perfect now." He reached up putting his palm on the right side of his face where, the repugnant flesh that had kept him prisoner for so many years, had been removed. "Though the outer appearance has been altered, it is that which lies beneath the skin that yet needs to be repaired. I've lived so many years under the shadows of the hideousness of my flesh. It is my mind that I fear must heal the most."

Erik looked into Christine's eyes with a vulnerability that it nearly made her weep. She stared at him with such love and adoration, yet it was the sincere depth of her acceptance that gave him the greatest reassurance.

"Come," she said pulling him down next to her on the vanity bench, "look at your face in the mirror, I am there inside…." Erik's lips trembled as he reached out and grasped her hand. She'd heard him, really heard him those many months ago as he'd led her into his world….now she was leading him into hers. Christine continued, "I shall show you the path into the light, it holds no horror for you now my dear husband. Let us take this first step…together."

Erik returned her smile as he followed her lead out the door and to the horses. The coachman stood at attention. Erik helped Christine up into a sidesaddle position on the horse and then mounted the other. The three set off for town, the coachman in the lead, followed by Christine.

Erik's thoughts wandered off. He inhaled, feeling the welcome soft breezes of the coming night air as they rode down the path to the village. Erik was filled with apprehension, and yet a tingling sense of excitement. He needed neither to hide, nor be in a position of intimidation. He could be just like any other ordinary traveler going into the village for dinner.

What seemed so normal to so many, seemed odd to him. His world had always been the opposite of normal. Polarized by his physical disfigurement, perpetuated by people's fear of him, immortalized by the legend of the Phantom that prevailed over the Opera House. Tonight he was a plain and simple man going for dinner, nothing more. He smiled.

So many years ago it had all seemed too impossible. Some details, he ran his hand over his flesh, could not have been anticipated, but had changed the course of his life unalterably. He'd been the master of deception, now he would have to master the grace of accepting change. His new life demanded it, his wife now required it.

Silently Erik scanned the shadows of the woods on either side of them as they journeyed. Sara's gun tucked neatly under his waistcoat in the unlikely chance that they encountered that boy again, though he doubted they would.

XXXXX

Though neither had been to the De Chagny residence, they could tell by the manicured, tree lined road they had turned onto, that they were nearing the mansion. The sides had towering oak, with commanding pines in front, and shorter still, were perfectly pruned evergreen hedges. A formal gate with a large brick arch lay ahead of them, though they could barely make it out from the distance. Nadir began fidgeting with the lapels of his coat. Madame Giry felt as if her heart would leap from her chest. She simply could not wait to get Meg into her arms. The minutes it took to travel the distance that remained seemed more like hours.

The carriage finally pulled to a stop at the front door. Raoul, having observed it from its first turn onto the property, was standing rather impatiently at the door. Meg was still sleeping, which Raoul was thankful for. The poor dear needed it. He went out to the carriage, reaching in to take Madame Giry's hand as the coachman opened the door.

"Madame Giry, welcome, do watch your step." She smiled taking his hand, glancing around the doorway with hopeful anticipation. "No, Meg still rests upstairs. Once you are settled into your quarters, I shall take you to her."

"Quarters?" Nadir said to Raoul as he climbed out of the carriage. Raoul reached out shaking Nadir's hand. "It is good to see you again my friend. Yes, I'd thought…rather hoped…that you'd be staying with me while you are in Paris. And Madame Giry until the Opera House is ready for her. It shall be but a few weeks really."

Raoul's eyes traveled curiously back and forth between Nadir and Madame Giry. They had planned to find an Inn within Paris to stay at. Staying here would afford them little true privacy, but how could they refuse his kind and most generous offer? Raoul gave them both a nervous smile, "do come in, the night chill has fallen in the air, there's a warm fire in the parlor." He led them inside, closing the door to the night outside.

XXXX

Madeline had brought a warm basin of water into the room placing it on the vanity at the end of Meg's bed. She tried to make a little noise to encourage Meg to stir, but she did not. Madeline had laid out a set of clothing for Meg so that she could dress for dinner that would be ready within the hour. Having not woken Meg, Madeline put a cloth over the steaming pot, and retreated.

Meg was sleeping hard. She'd not been dreaming at all, it was a dead sort of sleep, her exhaustion from the days before having caught up with her. The comfort of having Raoul in the room as she drifted off, and the knowledge that a bottle of pills lay in the drawer if she needed them, had provided the secure atmosphere that she had required to really rest.

The coachmen had carried in the bags, and the maids had been quick at carrying them off to their quarters. Raoul offered Nadir a brandy, and Madame Giry a glass of sherry, which she took out of politeness. However, after her previous encounter with non-medicinal liquor just a day before, she decided against really drinking it, but merely brought it to her lips for effect.

The trio sat exchanging words about the travel to Paris, the weather, everything except the one thing that mattered most. Madame Giry had sat patiently, not wanting to offend Raoul's hospitality. Sensing it he glanced at the staircase that led to the upper floor.

"I'd thought she might wake on her own by now, all of the extra activity and such. I see that we must be a more docile group than I'd thought as she does not stir!" Raoul was attempting to be humorous, but it did little to ease Madame Giry's aching need to see her daughter. Raoul looked up again and back at Madame Giry. "Very well, we shall have to interrupt her, I can see you have anticipated this at length having ridden all the way here without knowing the details of her condition. Come let me take you to her."

True, they'd only been there a few minutes, but it had felt like much more. She'd been away from her for too long. She simply needed to see, if nothing else, the rising and falling of her chest as she slept. That alone would give Madame Giry comfort.

Raoul nodded to Madeline who'd just walked into the room with a tray of escargot. Raoul led Madame Giry up the stairs, as Madeline opened a cherry wood box that was lined in a deep scarlet velvet. In it was a fine assortment of fragrant cigars, the likes of which Nadir had not seen since he sat with the king in Persia. He smiled widely, selecting one from the case. Raoul was a fine host he thought to himself.

Madame Giry's hands trembled as they walked the long hall to the end. The last door on the left contained the suite where her daughter now lay resting. Raoul slowed as they neared the door. Taking Madame Giry aside, and motioning her to sit on the settee just outside of the room.

"Madame Giry, I must tell you that you will find Meg much altered. Her face has a wound, that has been properly stitched, but there is much bruising and swelling. Her lip is somewhat puffy, and there are several bandages on her arms and legs. There are just now bruises on her shoulders that are finding their way to the surface." Raoul looked at her most earnestly.

"Madame Giry, I am sorry that all this has come to pass with Meg. I must accept full responsibility for her early departure. Certainly had she not left so unexpectedly, she'd not have found herself in this circumstance."

Madame Giry glanced nervously at the door. She would accept his apology, but wanted so to burst through the door and run to Meg's side. Yet, Raoul held her hand. "Madame Giry, you have raised two most wonderful women. My thoughts of Christine will always hold a fond place in my heart. I hope one day that she can be found, and that she has come to no harm."

Madame Giry felt herself become quite agitated. She wasn't at all sure why this was necessary now, though her heart panged for Raoul as he knew nothing of the real truth.

"Meg and I have spent many hours together while she's visited Paris, and I dare say that they have been the only relief that I've had since the ordeal began." He said looking down, "I'd rather hoped I'd bring Meg some relief from her toils with her aunt and uncle, and someone of like spirit to talk to about her missing her dear friend."

He swallowed, looking back up at Madame Giry. "I know I've been forward, insisting that Meg return with me to Paris, instead of home to you. I've felt most responsible for her well being."

Raoul closed his eyes steadying his breath, the question must be asked now. "Madame Giry, Meg and I have grown rather fond of one another. It is that very reason that I pursued her to the cottage near Chausser, to beg her forgiveness for my forwardness. It seems that in my attempt to revive her after a fainting spell, my unexpressed feelings spilled out to her, rather surprising the both of us."

Madame Giry sat back, pressing her spine into the plush upholstery. It was all starting to become clear. That's why Raoul was at the winter house, and why Meg had fled there.

He continued, "Madame Giry, these months have been rather difficult for all of us. We've lingered for so long in the shadow of something that likely will never be fully resolved, for it shall surely haunt us till we're dead. We've such need to remove ourselves from this cloud, for in it we simply cannot live. I dare say we could all benefit from a bit of happiness. I've want to beg of you your forgiveness in having brought Meg to Paris, and to seek your permission to…"

Just then, the bedroom door flung open. There, in a pale pink nightgown stood Meg, "mother?"

Madame Giry rose rushing to her daughter, Raoul's hand slapping down on his thigh with a thud. His chest was heaving as he watched mother and daughter embrace, tears flowing down their cheeks as they pulled apart looking into each other's faces, and embracing again. Madame Giry looked closely at Meg's face, running her hand delicately over the swollen skin. "My dearest, dearest Meg."

"Mother, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…"

Madame Giry led Meg back into the bedroom, glancing over her shoulder to give a brief smile to Raoul as she closed the door. The question would have to wait.

XXXXX

Downstairs the kitchen staff were preparing to serve a fine dinner of pheasant under glass, poached squash, and crème brulee for dessert. No ordinary dinner would do for De Chagny's guests tonight. The table had five place settings of fine china. Raoul had specifically requested that the formal pattern bearing the De Chagny crest be used. This would please his father greatly.

Nadir peeked out the window of the parlor as he heard the clatter of horse's hooves and carriage wheels approaching. It was a large black carriage, two large dark horses bridled at the front, a rather dapper looking man sitting in the driver's seat. No doubt this would be the senior De Chagny that he'd heard so much about. Nadir puffed heavily on his cigar. Raoul was not there to give them a proper introduction, so he'd made up his mind to do so himself.

**Author's Notes:**

**Captain Oblivious**: Yes, Erik is very devoted to his love. The tricky part of obsession is handling it once you've attained what you've sought. Now, in most cases obsession is unhealthy for everyone concerned. But, in Erik's case, the obsession was followed by redemption, which turned this intense emotional fixation into the deepest form of love that has ever been known to man! O.K., I'm no psychologist, but in my little brain, that is how I've rationalized it! There are "great loves" out there, sadly most of us never find that one right person…but we can always hope  With your sense of humor, honestly, you'll have no trouble finding Mr. Right, though you'll have to fight off the estimated 7.2 million women who track his every move on the GB website! Just kidding! I think people who possess a natural propensity to embrace life, are more likely to find a suitable mate, than those who just settle for what comes along. Suffice it to say, all of the doting that Erik does with Christine, rather makes me long for a great-big hug myself. I've not found Mr. Right yet either, but I know he's out there somewhere!

Yes, cribbage, I think you'll rather enjoy it. Now if you have a great imagination, which I am most certain that you do (a Phantom Dracula, wielding a Pauly Shore gun) you can get a cribbage board, and play with Erik, Nadir, and me (insert a good name here)! Just an idea!

I've not been bitten (pardon the pun) by the Harry Potter bug, though I've seen several of the movies with my nephew. I dare not get into another book that has a series of volumes. Seriously, I have a very large library in my house (yes actual built in bookshelves lined with everything you can imagine). I love sitting in there with big gothic candles lit, reading with a good cup of cappuccino when the world is sleeping! I cannot tell you how many series or collections I own, but there are a number of them. Oddly, not one of them is a Harlequin…you'd think I'd love that stuff!

I am sharing your pain. My 'Jury' DVD has yet to arrive. I go home after work each day, hoping to see that telltale brown cardboard box with a smile on it, on my front porch, but so far, nothing! I'll have let you know how it is once I get it!

**Ninetalesluver**: Welcome to the family! I am trying to write as quickly as I can. Sadly my fingers don't work as fast as my mind. I am happy to have provided you with some encouragement to write your own story. There is something very cathartic about changing the ending to a story that didn't end you'd hoped it would. Thank you for the compliment. Cheers to you!

**Phantomluvr**: Thank you once again. This story, and I know I must sound like a broken record, but it has a life of its own! I have so much more that I'd like to tell before this story comes to a close, I simply cannot envision it ending any time very soon. Ah yes, the picture thing…it is getting rather interesting…hope you enjoy!

NinetalesLuver  
2005-07-26  
ch 88, signed

Oh come on hurry up and write more! XD You can't keep us waiting like this! Ah, just to let you know, you're one of the many that inspired me to write a Phantom fic myself! Cheers to your glorious story, may you continue it soon!

Captain Oblivious  
2005-07-26  
ch 88, signed

Erik's devotion to Christine is amazing. . . it makes me excited to find my own love. It might sound odd, but one of the things I'm looking forward to the most is simply being held.

Ah, Cribbage. I shall learn about it immediately. Now, I would have picked up the lovely Dickens classic if I hadn't been so fixated on scouring 'Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince' for clues. Oi.

Hm. . . I have some more videos to watch, it seems. I want my Dracula DVD! It's taking FOREVER and I am going into minor withdrawal. . . 

Mise a jour bientot!

Phantomluvr  
2005-07-26  
ch 88, signed

You're welcome. How you've kept this story going so long so wonderfully is beyond me. My idea of a sequel is "Christine chose Erik over Raoul, they went off and lived happily ever after" Well, not quite that basic, but essentially that. All the details in your story are wonderful, and I can't wait to see how you explain that picture thing. I hope you keep this going quite a while, It's so great and i can't imagine not checking every other day or so for the update!

stellalorelai  
2005-07-26  
ch 86, signed

Okay, I thought I'd post this here now that the book is available. I don't want to keep it a secret. I hope you don't mind that I'm posting this here, angeldreamerphantom. I'm pretty sure that a couple of people who are reading your story and reading your reviews are anxious to hear about it.

If anyone is looking for a copy of Susan Kay's "Phantom," this is the place to get it:

Llumina Press is reprinting it in late September, and it's available for pre-order now.

Oh, and, angeldreamerphantom? Still can't wait for that next update:)


	90. Brandy and Pheasant Under Glass

Chapter 90 Brandy, and Pheasant Under Glass 

Though the household was quite accustomed to being on their own, the staff at Courtland Manor had become rather attached to the comfortable routine that having a full house provided. Now, they'd prepared several meals, which they'd eaten themselves rather than waste, and they sat idly by awaiting some news, any news of the return of their keeps.

They mumbled amongst themselves at Sara's obvious lack of attentiveness to her duties. "Just because the master is absent does not give her leave of her duties!" they grumbled. They'd never become that close to Sara. Though she was a friendly woman, she'd not gossip with the rest of them, and preferred reading in solitude to the nights spent chatting about the family by the fire. She'd have much work to catch up on when she returned they'd see to it.

The butcher would be making his normal deliveries tomorrow, and the market would have to be visited. Now the quandary was, how many would be returning, or would it be the staff alone once more. Surely they'd not keep them in suspense for that much longer. Now with both carriages gone, they'd have to hook up the cart to pull into town to fetch supplies.

There were rumblings amongst the stable hands about sending out a search party. It was the hope that they'd been detained for good reason and had not succumbed to the treachery that so very often took place on the country roads as of late. Crime was on the rise, with predators preferring the open expanses of the country to wage their misdeeds. Stories at the taverns abounded of such debauchery. They'd set their minds to sending someone out looking in the morning if no one returned.

XXXX

The sunset ride into Chauesser had been uneventful and pleasant. The coachman had ridden rather slowly, having a lady at his flank he'd wanted to maintain a respectful speed. Though they'd been one another's company, they'd each ridden alone in their thoughts.

The coachman was busy trying to guess at the ending of 'Oliver Twist'. Christine had been thinking about Meg, about Raoul, and the two of them together. Her dreams didn't frighten her any longer, they had been played out. What lingered now was a wonder what all this might mean for them.

Erik was lost in his thoughts of a life gone by, a distant past. Persia had many detractions and distractions. Erik had enjoyed some influence there, and nothing had been out of his reach. Though he'd only relaxed his guard to liquor, which flowed freely, he'd known the company of many a woman who'd all but begged for him to be their suitor. It was this last thing that disturbed him most. He belonged only to Christine, had only ever belonged to Christine, but the thought of other women gazing upon him was a bit unsettling now. Without his mask, he was more vulnerable to their prying eyes than he had ever been.

The last time he'd been in Persia, before he and Nadir fled, they'd been at a magnificent soiree. He'd entertained many, for that was his function. It was not the act of socializing that bothered him, it was being KNOWN that tortured him. He'd no mask to hide behind tonight.

He grimaced as the lights of the town became brighter. It would not be long before he'd be inside of a tavern or inn, pushed into the company of those he had nothing in common with, nor cared to know. Perhaps the dinner would be quickly consumed and they'd be on their way. Yet he knew they'd have to stop for some sort of provisions. With any luck, they'd find a textiles merchant open so they could at least purchase some things to make their wait for fresh clothing a bit easier.

Christine turned back to see Erik mumbling to himself. She pulled on the reins of her horse, slowing it to a canter until Erik's horse came along side. "Now my dear, what is it that you'd fancy? Do you know the village well?"

Erik pressed to service, searched his mind. "Yes there are several places, provided they are still there, that we could dine in relative peace."

"Perhaps you should lead the way?" Christine encouraged him to move forward. He smiled at her briefly before moving up along side the coachman. Christine could see him motioning with his arms, pointing with his hands, and making movements that looked like he was speaking of stables around the back of a building.

Erik slowed and now his horse and Christine's rode breast by breast. "I'll take you to a place called Christina Campbells. It has wonderful roasted game from what I recall. I've never stayed at the winter house until just now, so the meals I've had here were few, but I recall they were quite good." Erik smiled at her. He really wasn't sure what to expect. He remembered only that they had private tables separated by curtains, and the staff were most amiable. He could only hope the ambiance had not changed.

XXXX

Nadir heard the staff rushing about to greet Raoul's father. No doubt from the flurry of activity his arrival produced, his reputation for being demanding was one that was well deserved.

Raoul was at the top of the stairs as his father entered the house. "Raoul?" Came his powerful voice. "Where are you man, I've something to share with you!"

He turned toward the parlor, a stiff brandy on his mind. He stopped abruptly as he saw this stranger drinking Raoul's brandy, smoking one of his finest cigars. For once, in only a handful of times in his life, he was truly speechless.

Raoul come out from behind his father. "Allow me to introduce the two of you."

Nadir appeared aloof. Taking another puff of his cigar as he reached out his hand to shake De Chagny's. He'd not let the man intimidate him. He neither knew Nadir, or of his standing in society. Nadir intended to keep him guessing. He'd learned over time the less an adversary understood about you, the more off guard one could catch them. Nadir had much to learn about this man, about his past, about the relationships that he had, if he'd ever have any hope of getting to the bottom of the origins of the picture that Meg had given him.

"Nadir, this is my.." Nadir stepped forward, "yes, yes, your father." Nadir shook his hand firmly, making full eye contact. "I'd recognize him anywhere, good Lord, his picture is all over this house!" Nadir pointed up to the portrait that hung over the mantel in the parlor. "Though you were a much younger bloke in that one eh?" Nadir reached out tapping him on the shoulder. Raoul's father smiled coolly at him, his eyes slightly narrowed.

"Now what of this that you need to tell me?" Raoul said looking at his father. "Son, could we go into…" Raoul waived his hand in the air in his father's direction as he went to retrieve a brandy for him.

"No need, Nadir has been privy to all of the details of recent events." Raoul said, setting the opened decanter down heavily on the table. His father took the brandy that Raoul handed him.

"Ah yes," his father responded, flashing a distrusting glance toward Nadir.

Raoul poured himself a glass, and moved forward refilling Nadir's. At Raoul's own behest, Nadir was now in the inner-circle, and his father would make a fool of himself to disagree with Raoul in front of his guest.

"I'm to tell you that the officers need nothing further from you or Meg. We've seen to that man's final bills at the Starboard, and even now are making final arrangements to have him buried along side that scallywag of a father of his." He paused pouring the entire drink down his gullet in one fluid motion. He moved toward the decanter to refill his glass. Though Raoul neither stopped or nor tried to dissuade him, he secretly hoped his father would quit at two. Subsequent liquor tended to make his pretentious snobbery even more exaggerated, and the fuse to his infamous temper much shorter.

"Good, thank you. I still find it deplorable that the Starboard would employ such a man." Raoul was shaking his head. "And how did you know of this? You'd not known the man's identity when I left this morning!" His father said, rather irritated. "Meg, father. We'd spent the afternoon in the garden today, she spoke of it. The poor woman peered under the canvas as the man lay dead at that cottage, she recognized him."

Something in Nadir shivered in anger. The indignity. Erik's well appointed winter house was hardly a cottage. To hear them refer to it in such a slighting manner made him feel indignant.

The senior De Chagny continued in his authoritative manner, although what he said next Nadir already knew. "As it turns out, the young man had a history. He came from a rather nefarious family." He flashed a wicked smile, thinking he was about to reveal the most intriguing bit of news the pair had heard all day. Raoul looked at him with a furrowed brow.

"And what of that?" "His father was Joseph Crawlings, the man who died at the hands of Meg's aunt Elizabeth!" Raoul blanched, could it be so?

Nadir sipped on his brandy, putting the cigar once more to his lips, the smoke trailing out between them as he exhaled. Raoul's father looked at him, Nadir returning his glance with equal intensity.

Nadir strolled towards the decanter of brandy freshening his drink though it hardly needed it. He tipped the decanter toward the other two men as if to inquire if they needed more, they declined. He put the top on the decanter and took a sip from his glass before walking back to where Raoul and his father stood.

"That is not all," he said glancing now towards Raoul. The senior De Chagny flashed a disapproving, but guarded look at Nadir. "What is the meaning of that is not all?" he huffed.

Nadir puffed once again on his cigar, walking over and sitting on one of the divans, motioning for Raoul and his father to do the same. Nadir was rather gifted at spinning a yarn. Tonight would be no different. He had to make Raoul's father feel like he'd been taken into his confidence, had become an information source of distant lands. This would only aid in his quest to get him to let down his guard.

"After you and Meg departed from the winter house on your way to Paris, the good doctor and I returned to Courtland Manor to retrieve Madame Giry as you and I had agreed. When we arrived we found that one of our maids had gone to the winter house to be of some assistance, as we had not returned."

Nadir sat back sipping his brandy. To draw out his words only heightened the anticipation of the listener. "Yes, do go on," Raoul said, a look of worry in his eye. "Well, we must have passed her somehow when we left the road to water the horses, but irregardless she made it all the way to the winter house unescorted." He reached out snuffing his cigar in the over-sized crystal tray on the table, as he exhaled the last of the smoke, it swirling around his head. He took another sip of his brandy.

"I'm afraid to say that she found quite a mess when she arrived, and had gone about trying to clean it up, and that is when it happened." He stood, traveling back toward the brandy decanter. This time Raoul's father accepted the invitation of having his glass refilled. Nadir poured some and then returned the decanter to the table.

Raoul was not as skilled at this game, and said rather impatiently "what happened?" Nadir looked at him solemnly. "Our maid met her demise there I'm afraid. It seems that Ronaldo had not traveled there alone."

Raoul's father's eyebrows raised high. Nadir knew he had placed the hook correctly, he smirked. "The last thing that poor woman said when we found her was what the man had hissed at her before he pulled the trigger….blood for blood….you've taken my father, my brother, and now you shall pay with your life!"

Raoul and his father were aghast. Now there was yet another Crawlings about! "And what of the man? Where is he now?" Raoul implored him to tell. Nadir rubbed his chin, and straightened his jacket. "No one knows, Sara said the last she saw of him he had run out the door and taken off on a horse."

Raoul flinched, "the maid you mentioned, her name…" Nadir smiled to himself, the element of surprise had not been lost, for Madame Giry had told him of their rather complicated encounter months before at Sara's Inn. "Yes, I believe you might have known her….she came from Paris….she had an Inn there."

Raoul slumped back into the couch. "No, it simply cannot be…." His father looked at him disapprovingly. His son's emotions incensed him.

"Sara? Do you speak of the innkeeper that had a small inn across from the Opera Populaire?" Raoul's father asked.

"Why yes, I do believe that was the location. She'd followed not several weeks behind Madame Giry and her family…she'd become quite attached I'm afraid. She said she'd not have enough business to stay open with the Opera House closed, so she'd come to help them care for Stephan and Elizabeth."

To Raoul, that made perfect sense. She had been a kindly woman, with a compassionate heart as large as Paris itself. "Yes, we had the pleasure of making her acquaintance when Meg and Madame Giry stayed with her…after the fire. Sad..so sad." Raoul said looking down at the ground, taking a hard drink from his glass.

Raoul's father was about to ask Nadir of his relations to the Giry and Courtlands when Madeline entered the room. "Dinner served, come now, ready." She bowed slightly and trailed off up the stairs. "Shall we?" Raoul said. The gentlemen stood and moved toward the dining room.

XXXX

Madame Giry and Meg sat in the quiet of her room. They'd talked nearly without a breath in between words since she'd arrived.

Meg had shed tears over Sara's death, but was grateful Erik was alive. She shuddered when she found out of her attackers relation to the man Christine had killed defending Erik. A deep fear had settled upon her as she realized that yet another Crawlings lurked out there, perhaps he'd come to finish the job his brother had not. She was safe, she was safe, she was safe….she kept repeating it over and over in her mind. Raoul would be most interested to learn of this news, she'd tell him of it later.

Madame Giry sat facing her daughter. She reached up touching her face leaning in to carefully examine the stitches. "He is rather gifted,….the physician. I've never seen stitches drawn so closely together, nor thread quite this thin, it almost doesn't look like thread. It shall heal nicely Meg. I'm sure his hours of treating Erik's condition prepared him well." She shook her head, pulling back to sit next to Meg.

"My dear, when you happened upon Raoul and I in the hallway, he had just expressed his deepest apologies, he spoke of a fainting spell and of…"

Meg felt immediately uncomfortable and began to move about in the bed. "Is it hot mother? I feel so warm." Her mother put her wrist to Meg's forehead. She had no fever. She rose, dipping the cloth in the basin of now tepid water, she returned to Meg's side, washing gently over her face.

"Meg, I've no doubt that you have feelings for Raoul, and he has made it quite clear that he holds you in the highest esteem. When you found us he was about to ask…"

There was a knock at the door. "Madeline?" Meg called out, fearing someone had been outside listening to their conversation.

"Yes mum, dinner served, gentlemen wait for you. You need help with dress?"

Meg smiled, "no, but thank you." She thought for a moment, "Madeline?" "Yes mum?" "Could you come in for a moment?" Madeline curiously opened the door, coming in quickly shutting it behind her.

"Mum?" "Do come over, I'd like you to meet my mother, Madame Giry." She curtsied politely. "Mother, Madeline has been most helpful to me while I've been here, she is a dear woman." Madeline smiled at Meg's kind words.

"I shall need to thank you then Madeline, for tending to Meg while she anticipated my arrival." Madeline curtsied again.

"Dinner for you up here, not with gentlemen? You like better here?" Madame Giry looked at Meg, and with a smile replied "Madeline, if it is not too much trouble, please offer our regrets to the gentlemen, we should like very much to take our supper here."

Madeline gave her an understanding nod. "Look much better young miss, having mother here is good, yes?" Meg nodded as Madeline smiled at her and left the room.

"She's a pleasant woman Meg. I can see why Raoul would enjoy having her in his employ." Meg nodded.

"Mother, how is Christine, is she feeling better?" How Madame Giry wanted to share the news of Christine's pregnancy with her, but she had made a promise. "Yes, I think she feels better each day." That was not an untruth…a half-truth perhaps, but still not a lie.

"How are they going to get back to Courtland Manor? Surely they'll not ride horses, not after Erik's ordeal!" Madame Giry patted Meg's hand, and went about dipping the cloth and washing her hands and face as she'd done when she was a child.

"No, they'll await the return of the carriage that you and Raoul brought to Paris. The coachman will no doubt depart in the morning. Erik," she paused looking at Meg, "is it quite alright with you if I refer to him as Stephan?" Meg nodded in assent.

"Stephan insisted that the coachman not travel after dark, not with a Crawlings roaming about. It will be some while before he can be found and brought to justice. In the meanwhile, we'll dangle no bait to tempt him further. It will be but a matter of time before he realizes he'd missed his mark. Perhaps he's fled and shan't care as long as he's deprived a family of one member, but one cannot be too certain with a family such as that one!"

Meg nodded…the mere mention of the family brought back such vicious memories, she shuddered. Madame Giry looked down compassionately touching Meg's hand. "I am sorry my dear, I know this must cause you great distress. From my discussion earlier with Raoul, I'm certain that no harm will come to you as long as you are under his roof."

Meg blushed a little, before she said "you'll not mind at all…my staying here with him, until I am well enough to join you at the Opera Populaire?"

Madame Giry smiled at her. Her heart ached. While Meg may not yet have realized it, Madame Giry knew in her heart it was unlikely that Meg would ever return to the Opera House…not if Raoul had been correct in estimating her feelings for him. "I think this is where you should be just now…I think you are in quite capable hands my dear."

Madeline rapped softly as she entered the room baring a large silver platter with two domed lids and tiny pots of tea. Meg smiled at her as she put it down. "Raoul….how thoughtful." Madame Giry looked at her inquisitively. Meg smiled at her as Madeline removed the domes to reveal their dinner, perfectly placed and presented.

"Thank you Madeline." "You ring bell when done, I'll fetch tray, bring sweets." Madeline smiled as she touched the side of the pots to be certain they were sufficiently hot for brewing tea.

"Yes, and thank you Madeline, for conveying our apologies to our dinner companions." Madeline smiled, moving closer. "You much better eat here, men eat like beasts, smoke cigars, drink too much brandy." Madame Giry smiled widely, emitting a small laugh, as Madeline left the room.

"My heavens, there's enough food for four of us!" Madame Giry exclaimed. Meg was busy admiring the pots that sat next to the china. She had recognized it in an instant. She said thoughtfully, "this china belonged to Raoul's mother. He's rather fond of it…." Meg smiled at her mother, "today in the garden he told me of it, and how he used it every day now to keep the memory of his mother alive in his heart. Truly, his father would disapprove if he knew." Meg smiled again, lowering her head now following her mother's lead. Each offering their own silent prayer. Though they were different words, they circled the same people….a prayer that all would be safe and well.

"Let us enjoy this wonderful feast!" Madame Giry said. She resisted the urge to cut Meg's food for her. She needed to do this for herself, for she was no longer a child…not in anyone's eyes.

**Author's notes:**

**Captain Oblivious:** Do remember that Gerry has used a sword in a number of movies, he'd probably have no trouble making pate' out of you! Don't be jealous of the library, honestly. Though I cherish it, it is but merely four walls that provide space for me to think and write. It could be any four walls that surround you that would give you just the same feeling! It's not your physical location that matters…it's where you find yourself in your mind that gives flight to your thoughts!

Yes, the love Madame Giry and Meg share is most precious. Every young woman should be so fortunate! I have no doubt in my mind that if you woke your mother at 1:00 a.m. and told her you just wanted to give her a hug, she wouldn't mind!

Hope you enjoy the next chapters….oh…there's some good stuff on it's way….(at least in my humble opinion!)

**Stellalorilai**: I always feel guilty when I post an update without including you! I'd just posted the last chapter when your review came on my screen. I do so appreciate hearing from you!

Yes, I agree hearing Erik read 'Great Expectations' would be a rather urethral moment for me as well. The funny thing is really, that I could hear his voice in my head as I pictured this scene in my mind. Christine at his feet, that leather bound book in his hand, his powerful voice reading that great story, the glowing timbers of fire as the backdrop…! What a lovely little diversion!

I so agree with you in your hopes for the printing house that is venturing to print Kay's novel. I think there has been such a fervor over the original story as of late, that Kay's should have no trouble at all. Alas, if it does not sell out immediately, I shall do my part by purchasing a copy of it for every person on my Christmas list! I'd have some explaining to do no doubt, but I dare say friends and family have rather gotten used to my eclectic, sometimes eccentric choice of gifts…they most usually come with a compulsory story about their acquisition!

I hope you enjoy the next chapters. I have something rather special planned for the Friday chapter…I hope it brings as much pleasure for the reader as it did the writer!

**Poetzproblem**: Welcome to the family! Lurking…hmmm…somehow quite an appropriate choice of words for this story! Now, your name…does it refer to writer's block, or about the cathartic practice of airing one's problems through the writing of prose? Just a thought.

Thank you for the compliment. I am constantly humbled by the response of those who have taken the time to read this very long revision. I started this months ago in hopes of relieving my own angst with the ending of the original story. It amazes me how others have responded. Hopelessly addicted? You've just happened upon the very words I needed to describe my own fascination with the POTO story….it's rather like morphine…the more one has, the more one wants!

I hope you enjoy the newest addition!


	91. Faux Pas

**Chapter 91 Faux Pas**

Though they'd been received with a few odd glances, Erik took note that what the occupants of that small village fixed their gaze upon was not him, but rather the appearance of a proper woman arriving in town on a horse. "Perhaps their carriage has a broken wheel," one old woman offered to another.

Erick had received nothing more than a passing glance, with the exception of one elderly woman and her granddaughter who smiled ferociously waving at him, and then whispering something in her granddaughter's ear. Erik thought it odd. Each time he looked at her she was smiling and waving, as if she'd known him.

They continued down the street, passing other men on horses who simply nodded in polite gesture. For being a small country village, the residents were all quite proper. No doubt there were some families of affluence for such an impression to be made on the culture of what most would consider to be a farming village. Even the street lamps gleamed from a recent polishing. Men were in topcoats, ladies in evening dresses. The few children he observed were well behaved and stayed close to their parents.

Erik's eyes perused the shops on the left and the right, making plans as to which one's he'd need to visit. He began shaking his head at his own folly. He'd be able to do so in the full light of day if he now wished, he'd not need to sneak about like unwanted vermin. An entirely new prospect for procuring his goods; he'd be able to ask for assistance whenever he had a question. He smiled to himself. Perhaps this new "face" offered some benefit after all.

Erik took them down to the end of the street, veering to the left as the street wound around a park at the center of the village. There was a small open theater, rows of benches lined in front of it. A fountain, now dormant, laid at the center, a beautiful cherub with a violin in hand its crowning glory.

Just down the road, there was a cluster of restaurants, of varying flavors and design. One could quickly tell which were frequented by commoners, and which were only patronized by the aristocrats. Christine was not at all surprised that Erik had chosen the one that would be the most discrete.

A finely appointed front walk led to an elegant, yet private retreat behind a tall vine-covered wrought-iron fence. A young boy appeared seemingly out of nowhere to collect their horses. There was a small but neat stable behind the tavern, where horses could be fed, and groomed if their owners so desired.

Erik had dismounted, assisting Christine to her feet. The coachman nearly followed the boy back to the stables, but had turned abruptly when Erik cleared his throat, and he motioned for him to accompany them in for dinner.

Erik followed behind Christine as the coachman led the way inside. "Good evening sir," said the concierge, "for you and your wife, and guest perhaps?"

"No sir, she is his wife." He said pointing back at Erik.

"Forgive me monsieur, a table for three?" Erik nodded. The concierge took them to a private alcove near the back.

As soon as they were seated, a young boy in a white apron appeared with a large pewter pitcher of water. He lifted each crystal glass and filled them. Quickly behind him was a young woman with a silver basket of French bread. She reached inside the basket, selecting a slice with a silver tong, then depositing it on the bread and butter plates in front of each of them.

Christine glanced over at Erik. He already had his napkin in his lap. She discretely did the same. The coachman was munching on his bread, not having noticed.

Christine lifted the silver tray of strawberry preserves and passed them to Erik. Taking a teaspoon's worth he held out the silver dish for the coachman. He looked at him quite puzzled, and then sat down his bread. "Thank you." He scooped nearly half the dish of preserves onto his plate, proceeding to dip his bread in it.

Christine tapped her finger on her glass trying to get the coachman's attention. She raised her napkin to her lips, pressing at an imaginary crumb. He glanced at Erik who was doing the same. The coachman reached out snatching the napkin in front of him, wiping the bit of strawberry that rested on his upper lip. He looked at both of them as they put their napkins back in their laps. He followed suit.

A gentleman in a dark jacket with a white cloth over her his forearm approached the table, two bottles stowed in his wine porter, a small collection of goblets in his hand. "Merlot or Chardonnay?" He said, displaying the bottles. During his time in Persia, Erik had grown rather accustomed to this ritual. He would select the grape, the other guests would select the bottle. Tonight neither of his dinner companions would be of any help, and he dared say neither would object to his selection.

Christine put her hand over the glass to politely decline the invitation. "Have you any Bordeaux good sir?" The gentleman smiled. Certainly this was a man of good breeding a bon vivant! He nodded and turned to return to the cellar.

Erik leaned over to the coachman "I am sorry, have you a name that we may address you?"

The young man took a sip of his water, washing down the bread that he'd pushed into his mouth whole. "Erik." He managed through a mouth full of food. Erik huffed. This impish clod was spoiling what would have otherwise been an enjoyable evening.

"Yes, have you a first name?" The coachman looked back at him bewildered, "yes, my name is Erik!" Erik rolled his eyes, "how utterly inconvenient." The coachman looked at Christine confused. Erik inhaled, trying to maintain his composure.

"Have you a proper middle name?" "Why yes, I do." Erik waited, leaning his ear towards the young man who simply smiled back at him. "What is it man?" The coachman suddenly felt uncomfortable.

"It's my grandfather's name….it's Stephan." Erik could not believe his luck. Of all the names in the world, of all the coachman in the world, this one was in his employ. Christine looked over at Erik, though she wanted to laugh at the irony, she could not.

Erik sighed. "We shall call you Erphan." "But sir no, Stephan was my…" he was suddenly silent, realizing he was dining with his employer, and if he should wish to call him anything at this precise moment he could do so. The newly dubbed Erphan simply nodded.

The man in the black coat returned. He poured a scant half-inch in the bottom of Erik's glass. Erik enjoyed this ritual, it brought back pleasant memories. He took a drink from his water glass to cleanse his palate. Then he lifted the glass into his hand, raising it to the light to admire the hue. He swirled it around the glass to fully release the fragrant bouquet. Ah, yes, it hinted of pomegranates. Finally he lifted it to his lips, taking in a few teaspoons, rolling it around on his tongue as he sensed the sweet, waited for the tartness, and the smooth finish that was the hallmark of a fine wine. It was pleasing in every sense. He pronounced, "it is perfect."

The gentleman smiled, filling Erik's glass two-thirds full, and then turning to Erphan and filling his. Erphan simply smiled in recognition, then jerked his head in an exaggerated nod, trying to imitate what Erik had done.

Next a woman brought out individual plates of sliced apples and cheeses, garnished by a few shelled nuts. She put it in front of them. Christine watched in amazement as Erik selected the correct fork for the task. No doubt he'd had training that she'd not known of. Indeed the vast part of his past was still a mystery to her. Christine reached down and selected her fork, bringing the first slender slice to her lips.

Erik's gaze was now fixed on Erphan. "I am not a squirrel! Who eats such little meals?" He reached down and made a smallish sandwich of the cheese and apples, and was munching on it rather loudly. Erik closed his eyes. He would excuse this man's poor manners, for who would have ever taught him otherwise? He could only pray it would not continue.

Soon the plates were collected and a shallow soup bowl appeared. It was barely half full. Erphan looked down at it. "Excuse me," he said to the woman, "I believe you've spilled some of my soup as it appears…" His complaint was cut short as he felt Erik's eyes boring a hole clean through him.

Christine reached under the table putting her hand on Erik's knee. Erik swallowed hard. He could not even look at him.

Christine looked at Erphan. "We are enjoying a six course dinner. This may be all very new to you, so please do allow me to explain. Each course compliments the other. Because there are so many, no one course is too large lest it spoil your appetite for the next." Her calm tone began to soothe Erik's gagged nerves.

"We started with bread, followed by fruits and cheeses, next is our soup, which will be followed by salad, then of course our main entrée. I think you shall find you will be sufficiently full when we are done." Christine lifted her spoon, dipping it into her broth.

Erik looked at her and smiled. He always appreciated her compassion, together they were a perfect match, tough and tender. Erik was grateful that at least Erphan did not slurp when he consumed his soup, though his obvious lack of manners could be seen in how he used his spoon as a scoop, pulling it toward him instead of pushing it to the outer rim of the bowl and lifting it toward him gracefully. Erik could overlook that small social faux pas as well.

Erik was about to comment on the flavor of the soup when Erphan lifted the bowl to his lips, shaking it about trying to dislodge the final bits of vegetables from the bottom.

Erik could not take it. He stood, excusing himself from the table without a word. Christine decided not to go after him. He simply needed time to calm himself.

Christine looked down at her bowl, placing her spoon on the plate beneath it. Erphan was puzzled, not knowing what he'd done, but knowing that it was something he'd done to irritate his employer. Christine said, "do not worry, he will be back."

The waiter produced the predicted salad greens topped with pine nuts and a balsamic vinegar, accompanied by several wedges of stale dark rye bread. Christine pointed to her own place setting of utensils, touching the appropriate one for Erphan's benefit. She lifted it, and her knife, as she began to eat her salad. The quiet with Erik's absence was almost deafening.

Outside Erik clasped the railing of the porch that surrounded Christina Campbells. He was grateful that the courtyard was surrounded by the high vine-covered wrought iron fencing. He gazed out onto the lawn, inhaling deeply of the cooling night air. The noises of the hustling and bustling of a town on a Saturday evening could be heard in the distance.

Erik had no excuse, save his obvious ill-at-ease, for his behavior. What would the man have known of proper manners being raised in the company of gentry? Once he'd calmed himself completely he would return and apologize for his abrupt departure.

His thoughts wandered off to Persia, as they had so many other times in the last week. Perhaps it was being out in the world that reminded him of it. Not all of his time in Persia had been unpleasant, rather many memories of luxury and comfort persisted. It was because of the last months that he'd spent there that he'd tried to suppress the memory of the experience entirely.

His face turned down. He'd enjoyed power and influence there, but it had all been a ruse. For he was but a pawn for a much more reprehensible creature who made his past pale in comparison to their butchery. He'd somehow have to resolve to keep the good, and dismiss the bad, or the memories would forever shadow the new life he was trying to fashion….for his family's sake.

Erik inhaled once more, having decided he was calm enough to be in the company of others and was just turning to retreat indoors, when he could sense two pairs of eyes peering at him through a hole in the vines. A thin hand reaching in to wave at him. Erik recognized her as the woman on the street from when they first arrived in Chauesser. The girl, he guessed to be her granddaughter, was imploring her to move on before the authorities were called for and they were fined for loitering.

"It's not him, please let us leave this man in peace!" The hand was pulled back through the vines and disappeared. Erik shook his head. Whoever the woman sought she was mistaken, because Erik knew it could not be him whose face she'd recognized…for it had only been sculpted a few months before.

He sighed and retreated indoors to the table. The salad plates were just being collected, Erik opting not to keep his plate. The waiter appeared once more, "and for dinner sir?"

Erik inquired "do you still prepare the medallions of beef?" The waiter said, "yes, sir, we do indeed." Erik smiled, "the lady should like those, with a plate of vegetables, and milk." The man nodded, "and for you sir?" "Have you still the quail?" "yes," the waiter said, making note.

Christine cleared her throat. Erik smiled, he'd almost forgotten. "Do tell me, have you any Yorkshire pudding?" The waiter smiled at Erik, surely this was a man who took great pains to please his young wife. "Sir, if we have none, I shall find for her an acceptable substitute." That pleased Erik.

"And for you sir?" the waiter turned to Erphan, who was dumfounded.

Erik smiled "I'm rather afraid this is his first dining experience of this nature, he's unaccustomed to the pleasures of a meal taken in leisure." The waiter smiled. "Tell your chef to prepare his specialty, that shall do nicely." The waiter departed with a nod, he'd see to every detail himself.

A young woman appeared with three miniscule dishes of crushed lemon and mint, placing one in front of each of them. Erphan looked down, quite perplexed. Erik began "it is to cleanse your palate, so you can fully appreciate the flavors of your entrée without the interference of your tongue's memory."

Erphan had no idea what that meant, but followed Erik's lead in dipping the spoon taking a small bit to his tongue. It was tart, and not at all pleasing he decided as he winced. That made Christine laugh, and in turn made Erik laugh. The meal would be enjoyable from this point forward, the worst was already over, and the best was yet to come.

The trio sat enjoying their entrées as the restaurant filled with scurrying couples. It was obvious that this was a place frequented by those who enjoyed the finer things, and preferred an intimate venue. Christine had a perfect view of the entrance, and had seen many young ladies, dressed in lovely gowns, escorted by men in handsome suits pass through the door. The couples looked eagerly at one another, some appearing to be in the first throws of their love.

How Christine had missed that part of being a newlywed, she missed Erik even though he sat not feet away from her. She watched as the light from the candles danced across his face. How he'd managed to relax, and enjoy himself.

Erik talked to Erphan of horses and equestrian bloodlines; something that Erphan was most decidedly interested and well versed in. They discussed at length 'Oliver Twist', both Erik and Erphan's face lighting up when they talked of the twists for poor little Oliver.

Only once did Christine see Erik's look change when Erphan began his ranting, "Oh, and can you believe the demur little Oliver rose up and grabbed that Noah Claypole by the throat, rattling his teeth about in his head, then felling him to the ground…" Erphan had broken into a fit of laughter. "Can you imagine anyone becoming so enraged over being teased that they'd commit murder? Certainly our Mr. Dickens has a vivid imagination!" Erik's face had changed, a bit of horror flashed through his eyes. Christine saw the nerve jumping in the right side of his cheek, but he'd taken the last sip of his wine and rearranged himself, pouring back into the story. Erphan simply had no idea what Erik had endured, and neither, truly did Christine.

She thought to herself, for all the time Erik had spent alone, he had somehow mastered the art of listening, of being a worthy conversationalist for anyone he encountered. He made the other person feel validated, appreciated, and heard.

Erphan had gone from being a near stranger when the bread was first put on the table, to something of a friend by the time the crème brulle had been consumed. They now sat relaxing over the fresh cups of cappuccino that had been delivered.

Erphan sat back just slightly, readjusting his shirt. "Madame Courtland, you were most correct, I am entirely full, and entirely satisfied." Christine smiled at him, "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

Erik's gaze turned to her, suddenly realizing he'd not included her in the conversation in the last half hour. Leaning over he whispered in her ear, "my dear, did our daughter enjoy the Yorkshire pudding?" Christine smiled. She'd not let Erik win that easily. "I'd say he rather enjoyed it, wouldn't you Erphan?" She said aloud, smiling coyly, but rather triumphantly at Erik. Erphan responded, "oh yes, very much." Clever girl, Erik thought to himself as he flashed her a mischievous smile.

When the last of the cappuccino had been drunk, the dessert plates collected, and the bill settled, they stood to leave. The staff being most gracious thanked them, and bid them to all come again.

"Now, my little dove, how do you feel about a bit of shopping?" Christine slipped her arm into his as they strolled to the door, Erphan having run on ahead of them.

"I think I should like it very much, although I am rather looking forward to going home." Erik looked down, running his hand across hers that lay on his arm, "if you are feeling spent, or are tired…" Christine reached up, standing nearly on the tips of her toes, placing a kiss on Erik's cheek.. "I am not tired in the least," she said, running her finger along his jaw. Erik's mind swirled, she was doing it again….that infernal flirting…she had no idea who she was dealing with, he thought to himself as he followed her out the door, and into the night.

Author's Notes:

O.k., I am very sorry to leave such a line hanging over the weekend! Anticipation is indeed the mother of joy….

I just wanted to clarify a couple of items for the most particular readers. Degas would likely have been a bit too young to have painted the ballerinas at the Opera Populaire, given the time frame of the book.. However, I didn't want to detract from the brilliant work this magnificent impressionist artist completed at the Garnier in Paris, which, after all, the movie version was based around. So, please allow me that brief deviation to historical "correctness" in order to keep the fluidity and beauty of the story.

The second general note, is in regards to the restaurant where they dined. It is an actual place, though not in nineteenth century France. It is my favorite place in Colonial Williamsburg (USA). It stands in the same place now that it did when George Washington was a frequent patron. At night, it comes alive with such historical colonial accuracy, that it makes one wonder about time travel. If ever you're in Willamsburg, be certain to stop there, it is a sensory experience of the finest kind. I make it a point to stop there whenever I'm in that area, which, alas, is not nearly as often as I'd like. This little explanation is provided so as to pay proper homage to a wonderful little place in America!

**Captain Oblivious**: I couldn't agree with you more. If reading fanfiction all night would produce an income sufficient to support all of the other things that I require, I'd be its most devoted employee! Sadly, we live in the real world…so to work we must go.

It is my hope that by this weekend you'll have received your Dracula 2000 video, and will have much to say about our dear Gerard. My 'The Jury' video still has not arrived, and I am waiting like a dog expectantly by her dish for it!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Not to throw a carrot out there, but I've a most special chapter planned for Monday as well. Have a great weekend! And don't hurt yourself, or Gerard, with that Pauly Shore gun!

**Diveprincess:** I am sorry to hear of the sudden change in your life. Things such as this are very difficult for anyone. My parents too divorced when I was sixteen, it was a most difficult time for me, I had so many questions that went unanswered. I was both angry and sad, and didn't really know what to do with myself. I, like you, found reading to be a welcome distraction. It took me to places and times where people were in love, and dreams really came true. I dare say, along with a considerable amount of prayer, reading is what helped me survive those dark times when I wasn't really sure that love, or family truly existed out there.

If I may offer some unsolicited advice, from someone who has walked in your shoes,….try not to be too hard on yourself. People in your life, no matter who they are, will inevitably disappoint you, though they don't intend to hurt you. None of us were created perfect. Keep your chin up, and remember you always have literature as a means of escape. It waits for you whenever you need it, it will be there. Even if the literature was written hundreds of years ago, if it speaks to your heart, the author will have fulfilled their very purpose for being on this earth! Though literature can be very dated, like our beloved Phantom of The Opera, true love is timeless, and that will never go out of fashion!

I hope you enjoy the next chapters. It will provide a little fluff to lighten your spirits.

**Phantomluvr**: Yes, I believe I did warn you this story would be a long one! I am glad to hear you are enjoying it. I still haven't gotten into Harry Potter, and I am trying to resist the temptation to read the first one. It's not my typical genre, but so many people have mentioned it, I am almost feeling compelled to read it! I hope you continue on this journey with us…

**Poetzproblem**: I laughed when I read your response. I do remember Blondie, though I don't recall the song you refer to. Ah, I like the idea of thinking your tag name came from your deep desire to tinker with words….that sounds most intriguing as I have a bent for that myself!

Nadir, yes, he could tend to be a bit of a thorn in anyone's side I'm afraid. He and Erik no doubt caused their share of mischief together when they were in Persia. Whether either of the two of them will ever give up even one of their most solemn secrets, remains to be seen. Yes, no one should underestimate Nadir, for that would be most imprudent.

I hope this "fix" (a.k.a.; chapter) suited your needs!

**Stellalorilai**: Finally, I feel better being able to include you in the most current update! I'm rather glad that someone has picked up on the joy of the cat-and-mouse game that Christine and Erik are playing about the gender of their child. It lets us in on a playful side of their most serious relationship. Though they are deeply, madly in love, when the newness of a relationship wears off, there had best be something else to sustain them. I have always maintained that a relationship devoid of humor is doomed. Laughter speaks to the soul the way no other language in the world does, and to imagine the two of them sharing a little game like this is most precious to me too! Boy or girl…..hmmmm I guess we shall have to wait along with the parents….I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise!

Now, referring to the gifts that I give…I didn't say that they always appreciated receiving them as much as I did giving them! I can recall the holiday I gave everyone the book 'Chicken Soup for the Soul' (whichever version suited their age or life-stage). I imagined it to be a most thoughtful, insightful gift. When I delivered each one, I tried to give a most eloquent introduction before the gift was opened. I received varying responses ranging from "Oh….how…nice." to the comment that I simply lacked the imagination or motivation to find anything original!" Needless to say, the next year they all got gift certificates for restaurants in their area…I guess you could say, I made them eat their own objections….though they did seem to enjoy them!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I laughed so hard at points when I was writing it, that I think my poor little Schnauzer thought I was having a seizure! I could only imagine Erik's utter annoyance with "Erphan." Monday will bring a chapter that was most touching to me….Alas, I cannot tell you why….have a wonderful weekend!


	92. The Eye of the Beholder

**Chapter 92** **The eyes of the beholder**

Meg and Madame Giry had finished their dinner and rung the silver bell as Madeline had instructed. Madeline had not appeared. Madame Giry went to the door, deciding to put the tray outside. In a house she did not know it felt all too forward to bring the dishes to a kitchen she'd never been introduced to.

Just as she opened the door, Madeline appeared, rather out of breath. She smiled at Madame Giry, "so sorry, gentlemen keep busy, light cigars, refill brandy." Madame Giry smiled, "no harm done. Is there anything I can do to help you?" Madeline laughed. "No thank you mum. You, young miss ready for sweets?" Madame Giry looked back at Meg. Neither had finished their dinner, but something sweet did sound terribly tempting. Madeline took Meg's smile as an answer, turned and disappeared before Madame Giry could reply. "I guess we shall have some sweets" she said as she returned to Meg's side.

Madeline hurried downstairs with the tray, fetching the other that had been prepared by the kitchen staff. She scurried past the study, where the gentlemen had retired to. Raoul's father spying her passing, bid her to bring some cognac when next she came by. She huffed as she mounted the stairs muttering something under her breath about men and liquor. She rapped once more on Meg's door, entering before waiting for an answer. She carried in the tray and set it on the small table by the window seat. "Nice here for tea, can see pretty statues in garden." She turned and departed.

Madame Giry laughed at Madeline's comment, "it's dark as pitch outside, we'd not be able to see the garden if…" she paused. She could see a glow rising in the window. She and Meg went over, kneeling on the window seat. Down below in the garden, two woman in dark capes stood, just having lit several torches that surrounded the statues.

It was one of the most beautiful experiences that two of them had ever witnessed. The glow of the torches took over the entire circle of the hedge-lined garden. The statues cast long feathery shadows, giving them a urethral air. Though the garden was not yet in bloom, the opulence of the inlaid crushed gems on the path surrounding the statues glittered in every hue of color one could imagine. Meg glanced back at the dressing mirror, it was the same crushed stone and gem that graced the border.

"It is simply exquisite," Madame Giry replied, "Madeline was right." She took Meg by the hand and the two sat down to dishes of lemon pudding, berries floating on them like little blue angels, topped with a small cloud of Devonshire crème. The teapot was extremely fragrant with sliced oranges and lemon rind afloat in it.

"Quite a treat." Madame Giry said. "One can tell that having affluence allows you to have quite discerning taste. Where on earth would they find blueberries this time of year?" Meg smiled as she slipped the first spoonful of it into her mouth. She covered her lips as she said "the greenhouse."

Madame Giry looked at her inquisitively. "Greenhouse?" "Yes, Raoul told me of the things he has grown there, the year round. It had been a wish of his mother's to have one, though she never did." Madame Giry smiled at her daughter, pouring a cup of tea for each of them. "What else did you and Raoul speak of today?" Meg tried not to smile too widely, for it made her cheek ache.

"Nothing too serious mother, mostly of water color, and fond memories of our childhoods." Meg took a sip from her tea. She had put the cream and sugar in for herself, which made her think of Raoul's thoughtfulness that day, and she smiled. "The conversations were quite frivolous really. We spoke of favorite bedtime stories, things we'd enjoyed as children. It was most enjoyable. Strange though, as much time as we've spent together before, we've never spoken of such things before."

Madame Giry smiled realizing that Raoul was beginning to share parts of his cherished past with Meg, something one does when they start to make one a part of their life. Something a suitor would do. Though Meg had been admired by many, far more were discouraged by the look of consternation Madame Giry would flash them if they did anything remotely forward concerning her daughter. None had ever dared to ask for permission to call on Meg, save the one interrupted attempt Raoul had made just hours before.

"Come, let us finish our tea, then I suppose I should check on my accommodations for the evening." Meg flashed her mother a smile.

"Raoul mentioned that he would be making arrangements for you to stay here with us. I hope that was alright with you, I'd not want to be parted from you again!"

Madame Giry reached out and touched her daughter's shoulder. She'd promised Christine, she'd promised Mr. Andre, she'd promised Monsieur De Chagny…too many promises had been made, it would make her choices very difficult indeed.

"Mother, will Nadir be returning to Courtland Manor?" Meg asked, hoping her eagerness did not raise her mother's suspicion. "No, Nadir said he has business to tend to for Er…I mean Stephan. He anticipates it will take him a week or more to accomplish what he must do. He needs to find Sara's family, to see to the planting of new flowers around his father-in-law's monument, to take care of some financial matters, and one other thing he'd not been at liberty to discuss." Meg sighed in relief. Nadir had not forgotten.

A knock at the door interrupted their conversation, "surely Madeline hasn't brought us one more thing to eat!" Madame Giry said making them both laugh. "Good evening, came the voice of a man, who Meg quickly recognized as the physician that had visited her the night previous.

"Baron LaFavre, do come in." Meg called out over her mother's shoulder. Madame Giry opened the door allowing him entrance.

"And how is my young patient this evening?" He walked over and pulled up a chair next to where Meg was sitting in the window seat. "Doctor, this is my mother, Madame Giry." She motioned toward her mother, as the doctor rose to greet her properly.

"My pleasure Madame" he said lifting her hand to his lips for kiss. "And you Monsieur." She motioned for him to sit. "I must thank you for taking such fine care of my daughter during my absence. I was fraught with worry until I made it to her side this evening."

"No doubt you did worry, she's a very sweet, very fortunate young woman, miss Meg." He said tapping at her knee. "If you do not mind Madame, I'd like to spend but a few moments alone with Meg to examine her. It shan't take long." He looked at Madame Giry for agreement.

Madame Giry looked at Meg who nodded. She felt comfortable with him. "Yes, I've yet to check on the sleeping arrangements, perhaps I'll do that while you visit." Meg smiled, "that would be most excellent. We can finish our tea when you return."

Madame Giry nodded and walked out of the door. As dutiful as could be, Madeline had waited outside Meg's door to escort Madame Giry to her sleeping room. Madame Giry thought to herself, there was likely few who were as properly trained as Madeline.

XXXX

The doctor checked each bandage, replacing the one on her leg and one of the two on her arm. "I'd be most interested to know what salve the doctor applied to these wounds…." His voice wandered off as he shook his head. "I've never seen anything quite like it."

"I cannot tell you his name sir, but I can show you what he applied, he gave it to me to spread on my face four times a day." Meg walked over to her night table and pulled a tube from it, handing it to the doctor. He examined it with great curiosity.

"This is from Germany, how would a country doctor have something like this?" Meg flushed, now worried she'd done something that might expose the family. "I'm not sure, although I think I detected an accent in his voice." Meg feeling as bad about crafting the lie, as she did deceiving a man who was only trying to help her.

"I see, well, this has done wonderful things for your wounds my dear. Perhaps I'll have to send a post to the company to purchase some myself!" Meg smiled nervously at him. "Do see that you continue to use it as he instructed." Meg nodded her agreement. "Now, do tell me, how do you feel otherwise. Did you have any terrors as you tried to sleep?" Meg was relieved to tell him that she had not.

"I think it was the pill that you gave me, accompanied by the sherry that Raoul brought, allowed me to sleep. I've no memory of anything until this morning."

"That is good. And you'd no need for the other medicine?" He motioned with his head toward her nightstand.

"No, and I rather hope that I will not." Meg replied.

"My dear, do not fight your fear. Something such as you've endured must be worked through if you're to truly defeat it. If it pursues you, face it head on, and conquer it. Do you understand?" Meg nodded. He rose, packing his bag once again.

"Doctor," Meg said shyly. "How long have you known Raoul?" The doctor smiled. "My dear child, I've known Raoul from his first breath! I've watched him grow into a fine young man, and now into a doting suitor!" Meg blushed heavily, she felt hot again. "Why do you ask?" he smiled at her as he slipped on his coat.

"It is just that….I think….well…..I think that Raoul is in much pain, though he'd not tell anyone of it. I don't know if he has any friends to confide in, and…" Meg felt out place making such a bold statement, "I do not think that he feels comfortable sharing his burdens with his father. Might you spend time with him, to see if he is alright?"

The doctor walked over touching Meg's hand. "Raoul was right." Meg cocked her head, "about what doctor?" she asked. "You are sweet and compassionate, most deserving of the best care." He smiled at her, "you'd do well to stay here my dear, very well to stay here. Not simply for you, but for Raoul. It's been a long while since he's felt he's had a friend in this world, a long time indeed. It seems simply now that fate may have deposited one right into his own house."

Meg could not respond, had Raoul been talking about his feeling for her to everyone? "Good night my dear, I'll see you again tomorrow evening." He nodded toward her as he departed.

She looked down at the pill he'd left for her on the table. She was a bit uncomfortable, but she'd hoped to try sleeping tonight without aid. She would have to at some point, and after all, she did have the pills that he'd given her if she truly needed them.

XXX

Christine and Erik were waiting outside Christina Campbells in the courtyard. Erphan had gone to the stables to enquire if they might leave the horses there for an hour or so as they strolled the town. "Thank you for a wonderful supper. And your son thanks you for the Yorkshire pudding! Erik laughed reaching down pulling Christine into an embrace. "You and our daughter are most welcome. I'm certain that she enjoyed the crème brulee!"

"How long must we banter over the gender of our child Erik? Your son is rather offended that you're planning to put him in pig-tails and skirts!" Erik laughed at Christine, a real laugh from the bottom of his stomach.

"Oh my dear, may fortune smile on us and we shall have one of each!" Christine's smile dimmed just slightly, and then her face lit up again. "What is it my dear? Do you not feel well?" Erik said with concern.

"Erik, there are twins in my family, in fact, my mother herself was a twin." Erik looked at Christine quite amiably, "my dear, one cannot predict the future, but I'd rather think that one child shall do just now." Christine's mind wandered.

Erphan returned with the good news that they might leave their horses there as long as they like. "Good, that shall give us sufficient time to collect some necessities. Now, Erphan, have you a change of clothes at the house?" Erphan looked at him shaking his head, he did not. Erik reached into the breast pocket of his jacket, retrieving several bills and handed them to him. "I think that shall do. Do go along and find yourself something to wear." Erik thought for a moment, withdrawing his wallet again. "And if it is not too much trouble, please arrange with the bakery to deliver breakfast to us in the morning, some tea cakes, and perhaps a quiche." Erphan nodded, smiling his toothy smile, and was off.

"He's rather incorrigible, don't you think?" Christine said as she nestled into the arm that Erik had offered her as they strolled down the cobblestone street towards the shops.

"Yes, a bit rough around the edges, but trainable, I dare say." Erik and Christine walked to the park, turning to the right as they came to the shop-lined street. For all the world's appearances, they were a fine couple strolling the streets just as many others were on such a pleasant evening.

The shops had stayed open, though some were beginning to close now. Erik relished this most normal activity with such keenness. To the average couple it was a pleasant pastime after a good meal. To a couple who'd been through as much as they had, the experience was simply titillating.

They strode first past a blacksmith's shop, then a post office, the newspaper, the shoemaker, the jeweler, the butcher shop, the firehouse. Finally, they came upon a mercantile. Erik was thankful they were still open. Pushing in through the door, it was obvious why it was, the shop was buzzing like a hive. Erik did not like crowds, but crowds did allow one some anonymity.

He and Christine moved toward the area where there was bundled fabrics, and some ready-made garments. A group of women who were there, looked rather flustered at Erik's presence. He sensed that he was not welcome, so he politely let go of Christine's hand and moved over to the other side of the shop where he could both observe her and allow her some privacy with the other women who were pouring over some book.

"May I help you sir?" came a polite voice from behind the desk. Erik hadn't paid attention to his location, but now found himself in an area with top hats, and men's garments. He'd quite by accident stumbled into the very things that he needed! "Yes, I'll need a white shirt, and pair of black trousers, a fresh cravat…" the man eyed Erik, though he wasn't sure quite why. He disappeared behind a door, reappearing several minutes later with all of the requested items, and several others, all in Erik's size. Yes, Erik decided, he could easily grow accustomed to this.

In but a few minutes all of the garments were wrapped in brown paper, drawn with twine. "Sir, is there anything else that I might find for you?" "My wife," Erik beamed with pride saying it, "is looking at several things just over there. The lady shall have anything she likes. Sir, we've been traveling, and it seems she's left her nightgown at home…" The man nodded. "Perhaps you could hurry her along?" Erik inquired. He did not want to interfere with her selections, nor did he want to embarrass her by appearing again in an area most decidedly the territory of just ladies.

The haberdasher smiled, "I'll see to it Sir." Without another word, the man made his way over to the lady that was assisting the women. Christine had been holding up two garments trying to decide between the two. The woman whispered something in her ear, before taking both garments from her hand, nodding in Erik's general direction.

Christine smiled. From across the shop she could see Erik peering at her with a smile. Christine blushed, he was spoiling her. One of the girls who'd been pouring over the fashion magazines with the others stood and walked the few steps over to Christine. "Yes, we noticed him too. He's rather handsome don't you think?"

Christine gave her a most startled look, responding, "that man, just over there?" The girl had gotten the attention of the others who now stood shamelessly staring at Erik. One other said, "yes, the man over there the one who's smiling at us, he's quite a dish isn't he?" A wide smile crossed Christine's face, her eyes twinkled, her heart was floating. "Why yes, yes, he is."

A third girl looked Christine up and down, she'd not seen her before, perhaps she knew him. "Pray do tell, do you know who he is?" Christine looked at the group of girls, surveying the lot as the woman brought her the bundled packages. "Why yes I do, that handsome man standing over there…" the girls hung on her every word, "is my husband."

An audible gasp rose from the group, the girls began blushing, scurrying about embarrassed that they'd been eyeing a married man. Christine smiled at them profusely, thanking the woman for the packages, and walking off to meet Erik.

He was smiling at her, his head turned slightly wondering at the amusement on her face. Christine reached up giving him a peck on the lips, turning to see if the girls still watched. The small huddle pretended not to see, though the upside-down magazine that they held betrayed them.

"Christine, what is it that amuses you so?" He said to her as he took her arm and escorted her to the front of the shop. "I love you my dear, I shall tell you all about it." She said rubbing her head on his shoulder. Erik handed the woman the packages, withdrawing the funds from his wallet as they made their way out the door.

"Now, what is this that you have to tell me?" Erik said, admiring the mischievous smile on her face. Christine peered into the window as they walked passed. "Do you see that group of girls in the shop there, toward the back." Erik glanced in the window.

"Yes, what of them? Were they rude to you?" Erik said looking down most protectively at Christine. She began to laugh, snuggling up to him all the more. "No, not unless you consider speaking of how handsome the man across the shop was, to be rude?" Erik looked down at her scowling. "What man? The haberdasher?" Erik said as he led her down past the patisserie.

Christine looked up at him, all the more amused at his obliviousness. "No, they were speaking of you my dear husband!" Erik flushed, the heat from his face quickly traveling to a bright crimson on the top of his ears. "And what did you say to them my dear?" he managed to say. "I said they were quite right, you are most handsome!"

Erik's heart pounded beneath his chest, he fought the urge to pull Christine up into his arms and hug her madly. In all the world, the thing he had wanted most was for Christine to love him. What he had never expected, never even dreamed of, was that she would ever find his repulsive carcass handsome. Yes, in the dark, he was like any other man, his physical features were quite predictable. But his face….he'd never hoped, never dared dream to be handsome.

"Erik, you're trembling," Christine said, stopping to look up at him. His beautiful blue eyes glistened in the glow of the kerosene-lamp lit street. Erik slowly bent down looking Christine in the eye, and brushed her tendrils from her face. "I love you Christine…with all of my heart." He leaned over and kissed her, embracing her tenderly. Christine felt all of the pent up emotions being released in his shaking body, as though a great crack had been forged in his rugged exterior, and Erik the man, the whole, beautiful, wonderful, brilliant man was finally free to emerge.

**Author's Notes:**

**Captain Oblivious**: No harming our beloved Gerard…just what on earth were you thinking letting him take off the safety? Hmmmm….one must be more careful with one's delusions from now on!

Yes, "Erphan" was born in the wee hours of the morning. I had fits of laughter over a cup of cappuccino (hence the reference to it in the story) while I penned it. I could just imagine it! Erik having either been entirely alone, or in the company of royalty, the lion's share of his adult life, would find this a bit annoying indeed. I must tell you the point where I laughed the hardest is when Erphan lifted the bowl to dislodge the last bits of vegetables from the bottom. I could almost feel Erik's rage as he watched in horror!

Recognizing him….I'm not sure how to respond to that. There is one crazy old woman in that town that waived at him….it might mean nothing at all! I hope you enjoy the next chapters! My heart was breaking for him in this one….the love….I could feel the love.

**Waytoointoerik**: Welcome back, I hope you enjoyed your time away. I'm glad to hear you've started writing your own fan fic, it is one of the most enjoyable things that I've done for myself in a very long while! E-mail has been a bit of a problem, so I've not been checking recently, but I will today. I'm so glad to hear that I made you laugh….I was laughing so hard at points when I was writing it I had to get up and walk away from the keyboard! Hope you enjoy the next chapters!

**PhantomFan13:** Erphan….poor Erphan. It was a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants adaptation for a name. I loved the twist. I rather enjoy the ironies I run into in life, and I could just imagine Erik's annoyance with something like this…really….what are the chances….! Thank you for your continued support. Oh, and about your suggestions. No doubt by the time you read this you might find that I've made a reference to something familiar to you. In truth it was penned several days before chapter 91, so I'd been thinking along the same lines…but one never really knows how it will turn out! I had a similar coincidence happen with another reviewer who referenced one of my favorite authors….it is a bit eerie when it does happen….all I can say is that great minds think alike! Hope you enjoy the next chapters!

**Phantomluvr**: Thank you. 'Pride and Prejudice' is a daunting book, even for those of us who love to read. You need to have a dictionary, (the older the better) right at your side to get through it. Not that it's not worth it mind you, the character of Elizabeth Bennett is very complex, and very interesting, but the volume itself is quite an acquired taste I'm afraid. I'll have to think about the HP series….perhaps this fall. Hope you enjoy the next chapter!

**Crayann:** I almost could not believe it when I read your review! I was excited to find someone else who's been to Christina Campbells! You'll forgive me that I did not keep with the actual setting of this wonderful landmark, I simply borrowed the name and the "feel" of this great place, as it is one of my favorites! No doubt you enjoyed it since you remembered the name! I absolutely love Williamsburg. The colonial period is by far my most favorite period in history. One could say I'm a bit crazy, going so far as to take an entire semester devoted solely to the Constitution, the Continental Congress, the Constitutional Convention, etc. I am entirely enamored with all of it. For me, it was a pilgrimage at the end of the semester to travel to Boston, Philadelphia, Williamsburg, and on to Washington D.C. It was like walking in the company of shadows as I traveled. I stood in Constitution Hall on a hot July 3rd, directly behind where Benjamin Franklin sat, it was very, very, moving. When I sat in Christina Campbells later that week, enjoying a candlelight supper, I could almost hear George Washington speaking….the whole experience was rather spiritual for me! Well, I've now revealed yet another one of my obsessions haven't I! I would just have to say that people who live on the East Coast have an entirely different appreciation of the history of the United States. They can walk along the foundations of a great nation everyday! New Jersey is a long ways from where I live…a very long way indeed! Hope you enjoy the next chapter!

**Diveprincess:** I hope the weekend was a quiet one for you. You are most welcome. Sometimes it helps to hear from someone else who's been through, and survived, something like this. I will tell you that in the end, you will be a stronger person because you learned how to endure. The deeper your roots grow from having to weather storms, the larger your branches will become, and the more fruit you will produce. Someday, you might be able to help someone else through a tough time because of what you've gone through. No experience is ever wasted, if we learn to look for the good in it.

I hope you enjoy the fluff in this chapter. I especially liked how oblivious Erik was to the girls flirting…he's just never been through anything like that before!

Waytoointoerik  
2005-07-31  
ch 91, signed

Hi I have missed you, I was out of town and started writing my own fan fic and finally got caught up! I really love your story. I tried e-mailing you, but I am not sure if you got it. I now know how important these reviews are! I hate the petty people that try to take the wind out of sails with trivial criticisms. Anyway, if you want to talk, please e-mail me.

Love the story. I was laughing so hard at the last chapter I had tears running down my eyes.

PhantomFan13  
2005-07-31  
ch 91, signed

Erphan? LOL!

Well first i must say it is good tyo be home with my computer! i was very glad to find that you had not enede the story yet!

I felt like the story is somewhat like a soap opera (i love the o.c so mabey that is why) and i felt like i had missed a few episodes and had to watch them when i returned home, it is not quite the same reading chapters that have been posted for a few days. i love to read them as soon as they are posted!

ok if i am rambling on and on i am sorry but i just got home like 2 hours ago and am very happy to be reunited with my computer.

hm i wonder how much you can type?

anyways i see nothing that important has happened in my absesnce and i am still awaiting what the others will make of meg's news and the photo and will raoul ever find out about christine? ok now i hear the little voice in my head like when a tv show leaves you with a cliffhanger. lol!

i have been thinking about this for a while (don't take this the wrong way though i just have these crazy ideas in my head and am too lazy to right my own story) that christine and erik should have twins! (k these might have popped into my mind cuz i have been watching too much star wars) one could be a girl named sarah and the other could be a boy named dustin.

just an idea (p.s i don't think that is how u spell dustin - oh well) u don't have to even aknowlage it.

so you are having e-mail stoubles too bad. if you get your e-mail working again let me knoew so i can e-mail you next time and not write all of this here!

keep up the good work! - so cliche i know but i don't know what else to say!

Phantomluvr  
2005-07-30  
ch 91, signed

As if I could leave it! I have never yet been able to put a down a book without having read it fully at least once (well, excluding Pride and Prejudice, never really liked that) But you really chould read the HP series. The books are so well written, and they're very exciting. and if I stuck to my normal genre, I never would have read POTO. now wouldn't that be a loss! Really, though, the HP series has my highest reccomendations

Captain Oblivious  
2005-07-30  
ch 91, signed

Eh, yes. I would sell my Pauly Shore gun on eBay if I didn't want it released to the public. Gerard's head nearly exploded this evening when he accidentally took the safety off. . . sigh We can't have THAT happening, now can we?

gasp People are already recognizing him as a de Chagny, aren't they? Mwaha. . . oh, and I loved how Erphan (great name!) so unknowingly grated on Erik's nerves. HA!

Mise a jour bientot!

diveprincess  
2005-07-29  
ch 91, signed

I dare say, along with a considerable amount of prayer, reading is what helped me survive those dark times when I wasn't really sure that love, or family truly existed out there.

- I definitely agree. Thank you so much for all your compassionate listening and advice! You're too sweet. I hope things are going better for you as well!

I am looking forward to the fluff!

Crayann  
2005-07-29  
ch 91, signed

Once again you have given us a wonderful addition! I look forward each day to receiving notice that you have updated your story! I am so glad to be a part of such a good book. . . and by that I mean I feel like I'm "in on a great secret" reading it before (hopefully) you will get it published.

I was so thrilled when I read "Christina Campbells"! I haven't been there in a number of years but knew immediately the restaurant you referenced! My DH and I spennt some of our honeymoon in Williamsburg (on our way to FL-my DH was in college). I'm from NJ and wonder where you are from since not too many people past the East Coast are even aware of Williamsburg!

Anyway, thanks again for a wonderfull installment!


	93. Out of the Ashes

Chapter 93 Out of the Ashes 

Raoul's father had been entertaining Nadir with stories of the great hunts that he'd been on. Nadir found great relief in this as he could speak freely of events that did not include Erik. Though he was being careful to mind his tongue, the brandy did have a rather numbing effect on his faculties.

Raoul had rather tired of the conversation and had half a mind to wander out of the room. He'd not interjected so much as a single thought in the past half-hour, and would have preferred listening to the staff talk about breakfast preparations than to listen any further to the recanting of bloody tales, sharp knives, and entrails.

His mind wandered off to that very afternoon. He and Meg had had a most splendid day together. No pretense, nothing at all serious, simple hours spent in the company of a friend. He could only hope that tomorrow would be half as pleasant. He tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair impatiently. The evening nightcap of cognac was at this rate hours off. His father scowled at him disapprovingly. Raoul stood, putting his glass down on the table.

"Pardon me if I might gentlemen, I'm going to inquire if the doctor has finished his visit with Meg." Nadir and his father had been laughing about some travail or another, pausing only briefly from their conversation to acknowledge Raoul's departure.

Madeline was just coming down the stairs when Raoul made it to foyer. "Vicomte, Madame settled." Raoul was poised to ask about the physician when he caught the movement around the banister at the top of the stairs.

"Ah Raoul, just the man I'd like to visit with, have you a moment?" Raoul nodded to Madeline that she was dismissed. She was grateful, it was half past and she'd not yet seen to her own dinner.

The doctor met Raoul at the bottom of the stairs. "Have you somewhere we could speak?" Raoul nodded and motioned towards his study across the hall from where they now stood. The doctor followed him in, pulling the pocket doors closed behind them.

Raoul flopped down in the chair next to the fireplace, sighing heavily. The Baron had always been someone he could trust, he needn't worry about being formal or proper in front of him. The doctor joined him. Raoul glanced at him, and then back into the fire.

"I'm glad you'd finished just now. I was going literally quite mad listening to my father's retelling of his favorite hunting expeditions, though I say it was rather entertaining our guest Nadir!"

"I see," said the doctor, looking at Raoul, paying closer attention to his posture, tension in his face, and his fidgeting, than his words.

"Now, what is it that you wish to discuss with me? Is Meg alright?" Raoul's face lighting up slightly at the mention of her name.

"Yes, she is doing well. The swelling on her cheek is starting to subside, and her wounds, well, let us just say that the physician who treated her initially, was very skilled indeed! Did you ever catch his name?" Raoul shook his head.

"No, I simply thanked him. I wasn't really thinking much of it at the time." Raoul looked down, reliving flashes of that night in his mind, a pained frown taking over his face.

The doctor glanced up at the furrow in his brow, Meg in all of her own suffering, had been very observant, Raoul was in pain, though it was his mind that tortured him, not his body. "Ah, I see." The doctor watched as Raoul became lost in his own thoughts, wringing and rubbing his hands, as if he could slip off some imaginary gloves that he was wearing.

"Are you sleeping Raoul?" Without looking up Raoul replied, "no sir, just staring into the fire, it rather relaxes me….at least it used to." The doctor shook his head. "No, I meant sleeping at night, are you resting?"

Raoul looked up at him, tears rimming his red eyes. "Sleep has been a rather elusive companion, rest has become rather a stranger to me." He paused, swallowing his emotion. "It's been a rather trying time." The doctor nodded. "What is it that troubles you most?"

Raoul gazed deep into the fire. "It is difficult to describe." Raoul said sadly. "Do try, I shall be here for you my friend." Raoul glanced up a fleeting grateful smile crossing his troubled face. "I wonder…. I'm always wondering, second guessing myself. It's been three months since the fire. We've searched everywhere for Christine, every nook and cranny has been turned over, three or four times. No doubt he's either whisked her out of the country, or he has her buried somewhere far beneath the earth where we shall never find her. To all the rest of the world Christine Daae is dead. Yet she lives on in my dreams." The tears that had formed on Raoul's lower lid spilled over and ran down his chin. "How long….how long does it take to heal a broken heart?"

The doctor reached out and touched Raoul on the shoulder. He'd asked him that same question when he was just a boy, weeks after his mother had died. His words to him now as a full-grown man would be no different than they were then. "No one really knows. It happens little by little, until one day, you wake up, and can dare to love again."

Raoul rubbed at his eyes. "I loved her, really loved her, and yet for all I have I could not save her from that monster." Raoul let out a single sob, before he drew in a deep breath trying in vain to stifle his emotions. "Now, I have to face the fact that I'll never find her, never hold her in my arms, never love her. Yet of all of this, what hurts the most now is not knowing what became of her. Is he caring for her? Is she being held like an animal somewhere serving him? Has he tired of her and simply found a way to purge his fixation? My mind tortures me to think of what she might have had to endure. She'd not wanted to do it you know, that final production. She knew that if he took her, that we'd be parted forever…and I assured her I was there to protect her. I could not even keep that promise!" Raoul grew quiet.

The doctor looked on Raoul with such intense empathy. He'd suffered so long in silence, and no one had taken the time to listen to him. "Do go on." Raoul flashed him a brief smile. "Is that not pitiful enough? Do you not find my weakness of mind as reprehensible as my father?"

The doctor shook his head. "I shan't find it reprehensible in the slightest. For one who deals with his emotions, his thoughts, in the end can find peace. Those who refuse to face them will never be free. Oh, they may appear to be too hard or callous to ever be duly affected by the woes of life. But in truth, they suffer far more than those who have the courage to shed tears." The doctor reached down into his bag, pulling a syringe from it. "Raoul, you'll be no good to Meg if you are too exhausted to be of any company. If you'll permit it, I'd like to give you something to help you sleep tonight."

Raoul looked at him with such desperation in his eyes. He simply rolled up his sleeve and extended his arm. "I'd like nothing more than to sleep an entire night without dreaming, or waking from the recurring nightmares." The doctor quickly administered the drug, and Raoul rolled down his sleeve.

"In a half-hour's time, you should be ready to retire. Consume no more brandy tonight, is that understood?" Raoul nodded to him. "Is this what you gave Meg last night?" Raoul inquired. "Yes, similar, just a bit stronger dose," the doctor said. Raoul sighed. "She said she slept well."

The doctor looked at Raoul, a faint glimmer of happiness glowed in his eyes. "And what of Meg Raoul? She is an extraordinary young woman. Even in her own pain and struggle, she worries about you." Raoul closed his eyes tightly, sitting back in the chair. Exhaling heavily, focusing on the pain that tugged at his soul.

"Does one simply grow a new heart? If we love another, does that mean we never loved the first? What if Christine returns, what then of my feelings for Meg? How will Meg ever really know that I love her for HER, and not as a substitute for Christine?" He looked pleadingly at the doctor hoping for him to pull some miracle from his bag that would relieve him of his desperate quandary.

"A new heart does not grow, but an old heart does heal with time. You must decide for yourself what it is that you loved about each woman. Then decide if you are content to live alone with but a memory, or if you love the flesh and blood that is before you. Meg is here with you now, Christine might never be. You knew, and came to love Christine when you were but a child. You've come to know and appreciate Meg as an adult. Do you love her now?" Raoul simply nodded that he did. "Then if you've come to love her now that you are a full grown man, you love her as a woman. You loved Christine as a child, and though that memory is dear to you, you came to love her as a child."

It was all beginning to make sense to Raoul. "Is it possible that I loved little Lottie, and not Christine?" "That is something that you have to answer for yourself." The doctor said. "I once read a quote from the bible, though I cannot recite it verbatim, it was something natured in this way, 'when I was a child I loved as a child, when I was grown I knew what love was, and I could love as a man'. Perhaps that quote shall help you decide where your true feelings lay."

Raoul sat still rubbing his hands together. The doctor looked at him, he knew what troubled Raoul now was only in part what he had to do. What had already been done haunted him.

"The blood of that man is no longer on your hands Raoul." The doctor said firmly. "I never liked killing, that is why I tired of the stories that my father spoke of tonight with such jovial exuberance." Raoul gritted his teeth. "Yet, how am I any different than my father now? I'd not killed that man to provide for my family, how is that taking of life any different than when my father hunts for the pelt or the trophy head?" Raoul's face was twisted, the inner turmoil spilling out onto his face.

"Raoul, surely your remorse clouds your ability to reason! You should know that I share in your value of life. Indeed my life's work is done for that very purpose. I can only tell you that you saved a life by taking a life. It is a balance that is held in your mind. If you'd sat back and done nothing, that man might well have taken Meg's life, and your own. Would you feel less guilty if you'd stood by and done nothing?"

Raoul could not even allow himself to think of the alternative. "There was little choice my friend, you did what any one else would have done. No doubt you've asked forgiveness for this. Now it is time to believe that you've been forgiven, and then forgive yourself. The latter may be the most difficult part." Raoul's head hung low.

"Your mother was a strong woman Raoul. She believed to her dying breath that your tender heart would do you well; it would keep you from growing cold as your father had. You still have a chance to live. For though your father may seem to have a life others envy, he's already dead in his heart for it's grown cold, and what is life without a heart?"

Raoul began to cry. Then he sobbed, moaning bitterly. No one had ever spoken to him of such deep thought before. He suddenly felt sorry for his father. No wonder the man was so hard and unrelenting, it was all he really had, and that wall around him protected only a shell where the man had once been.

Raoul knew what he needed to do now, and what he must stop doing. He resolved to start living like he was living, not living like he'd died already. He needed to be happy. Meg needed to be happy. Christine would have wanted them to both be happy.

He stood shaking the doctor's hand. Though he'd never had a son of his own, the doctor imagined he'd have come to love him much like he now did Raoul. Tonight a simple handshake would not do. He pulled Raoul's shoulders towards him, giving him a sharp grasp and several swift pats on the back.

"Things shall come to pass as they should Raoul. Just follow your heart." Raoul nodded. "Until tomorrow then, I bid you adieu." Raoul walked with him to the door. "Thank you," he reached out and grasped the Baron's shoulder, "for everything." "It was my pleasure." The doctor tipped his hat towards Raoul, and departed to his carriage.

Raoul paused, looking at himself in the long mirror in the hallway. He pushed his hair back into place, and wiped below his eyes. He leaned back peeking into the sliver of the open door of the parlor. Nadir and his father were still laughing, still recounting stories. The smoke from the cigars was thick. Raoul had no desire to rejoin them.

He turned and looked up the stairs, then he glanced over at the portrait of Christine that he'd commissioned just weeks before she disappeared. It had been completed and hung just a month ago. One woman held his past, one woman held his present. Now he had to decide which one of them he would hold for the future. Was he going to live like he was alive or as if he'd died already? He stood glancing back and forth from the stairs to the portrait. His heart felt as if it would crush under the weight of the decision he had to make.

With purpose in his stride, he walked over and took into his hand a cloth doily that lay on the marble table in the foyer. He smiled gazing at the portrait of Christine for what seemed like a fortnight, running his hand across her face. Oh how he had loved little Lottie. Reaching out he put his lips to the picture and then looked down at the cloth. He lifted it above the picture frame and hung it gently over the face. Tomorrow he'd have it moved to the room with the picture of his mother and grandparents.

He stood for a moment at the bottom of the staircase that led to the rooms above. Taking in a deep breath, he moved up the stairs swiftly. He'd made his decision. He'd past the point of no return.

XXXXX

Madeline was just coming out of Meg's room when he reached the top. She nodded at him as they passed in the hall. Raoul knocked on the door. Meg called out, "enter," thinking it was her mother. Raoul peered in the door. Meg was sitting at the vanity, brushing her freshly washed hair.

She turned abruptly as she heard Raoul's voice say "Good evening Meg, we missed your fine company at dinner tonight. May I come in and talk with you?" Meg blushed. She was fully covered in a nightgown and robe; he'd seen her in much less.

"Yes, I was just expecting my mother, I am sorry I look a bit unprepared to receive a visitor." "You are beautiful to me." Raoul said coming up behind her, placing his hand on her shoulder before he sat down on a chair just to the side of her. Meg closed her eyes, as she continued brushing her hair. She couldn't look at Raoul.

"Meg, tonight Nadir and my father I dare say, hit it off. Even now they are in the parlor, drinking brandy and laughing."

Meg said, "and you Raoul, why are you not joining in their revelry?" Before he could think with his mind, his heart responded, "because I would rather be here with you."

Meg could contain herself no longer. Her shoulders began to shudder as she let out a small whimper. If only he knew the truth, he'd hate her, not love her. How could she keep this all from him?

Raoul had risen and was now at Meg's side. "Our growing feelings frighten both of us Meg. Do not worry, I'll not force the hands of time. There's but one thing that I must know from you now." He took in a deep breath. "Can you truly love me, one day truly allow yourself to love me?" He looked at Meg for some sort of response. "Meg I'm not harboring feelings for ghosts of the past. While we can never forget, we can move on, and I want you to know, that I am willing."

Meg put down the brush, tears running down her neck. She looked up at him. "Yes Raoul, yes, I am willing." Raoul scooped her up into his arms carrying her over to the couch in front of the fire. He held her closely in his arms, wrapping a blanket over her. "Tonight my dear, I shall hold you until you go to sleep. Tomorrow we will talk more, but for tonight know this, that I love you Meg."

She smiled, wiping the tears from her cheek, as she rested her head against his chest, closing her eyes. Tonight he held her as a woman, held her, and no one else in his arms and in his mind. Raoul put his head down over Meg's listening to her breathe. He placed a tender kiss on the top of her head, resting his chin against her temple.

Madame Giry had completely settled into the comfortable surroundings of the guest room that Raoul had arranged for her. She found it all to be quite lovely; thoughtful touches were everywhere. She'd washed her face, and made herself ready for bed. Collecting a pillow, and a heavy blanket from the bed, she tucked them under her arms. Tonight she would stay with Meg.

She made her way down to Meg's room, not knocking first. She would dispose of the tea that would now be cold, and then they'd sit together until Meg was tired enough to rest. Madame Giry knew there was a couch in her room, so she'd have ample space to retire herself when Meg was ready.

As she opened the door, a most precious sight came into view. There sat Meg, in Raoul's arms, both sound asleep. Madame Giry smiled, quietly pulling the door closed, padding back to her own room. Meg had all the comfort and protection that she needed.

**Author's Notes:**

Thank you to everyone for responding to the last chapters. They've been much fun to write! I hope everyone is having a great summer, and staying cool!

**Stellalorilai:** Yes, the woman in the street. She's raised quite a lot of interest among our family! She could be important, but I'm not telling just yet.

Yes, the moments between Christine and Erik in the street when the realization came over him that she was actually looking at him and found his flesh handsome….I can only imagine what someone who'd been so horribly disfigured would feel when someone found them attractive….. yes, he loves her dearly, and her pride in him, made him love her all the more! In my mind, it is a "great love", one that all other relationships could be measured against…..ahhh….now I've gone and gotten all nostalgic.

Ps. I hope to get to me e-mail later!

**PhantomFan13**: Thank you. I thought some sweet things needed to happen to this blushing couple. I can only imagine what this would all be like for them. Being able to go out in public without the fear of rejection….of being discovered…that would be quite liberating for someone who's live in the shadows for all those years. I hope you enjoy the next chapters. Oh, the picture question…you're right, we will just have to see!

**Poetzproblem**: Now I've got your mind working! You never know, sometimes things are planted for a reason, sometimes they are just trivial happenstance, but the pills…they would make for something rather nefarious wouldn't they? Thank you for the review. I really liked the girls in the shop…can you just imagine how Christine felt at that moment, or when she told Erik! Oh, I wish I could have been there! LOL

**Diveprincess:** I loved the flirting myself. I think they are just the most precious couple out there! Who cares if they are fictional, they are entirely more interesting and in love than most Hollywood couples! Now I'm ranting…it's all that sticky-sweet story line…it has me a bit giddy.

You are entirely welcome. I hope that in some small way I can help you, just as one day you can help another. I sound like a movie addict, and perhaps I do go a bit overboard, but if you've not seen the movie "Pay It Forward" you might want to rent it. It is a bit sad in parts, but in the end, you'll find it makes perfect sense to the way we should all treat one another. Take care of yourself!

**Phantomluvr**: Yes, her books are an acquired taste. You can liken it to bragging rights for non-athletes. If you can claim to have gotten all the way through 'Pride and Prejudice' without abandoning it, you get your name on a plaque in the hall of fame! I am slightly leery to admit, I do like them. (cowers in corner)

Yes, the girls in the town are the first to notice the skin-deep handsomeness that Erik is starting to acquire. For Christine, he's been handsome all of the years she's known him, because she was first attracted to his voice…his heart….the rest was just a bonus. He knows that about her, and that makes him love her all the more! Hmmmm….though I'm trying not too use too much "old English" lest I lose the readers in the language, I somehow don't think that "hottie" would fit in. I felt a bit liberal including the adjective "dish", but I thought everyone might forgive me. I'm not sure what the slang term for "extremely attractive possible suitor" would have been among a gathering of young hopefuls, so I improvised. Hope you enjoy the next chapters!


	94. Window Shopping

Chapter 94 Window Shopping 

Christine and Erik strolled arm and arm down the street, Christine's head nestled up against his chest. They barely noticed the pleasant stares that older couples gave them as they passed by. There was something entirely wonderful about seeing a young couple in love. It made the whole world seem a little brighter place.

The pair stopped to peer into several windows, including the clock maker. "My father had a clock the very likeness of that one. I remember it when I was a girl. On Sunday mornings he would stand in front of it with his pocket watch, and reach inside the glass door adjusting the arms ever so slightly. It was a ritual of his that I always seemed to enjoy."

Erik leaned down kissing the top of Christine's head. They continued their stroll down to where they'd first come into town. In a distance they could see someone waiving their arms about wildly. Erik breathed in and let out a little chuckle. "Erphan…no doubt he's been looking for us!"

"Really Erik, Erphan? Who's ever heard of such a name? Could we simply not address him by something less ambiguous?" Erik laughed at her as they continued on their path toward the young man.

"And what would you have me call him my dear? Both his names were already quite occupied by the present company." Christine thought a moment, "Perhaps Erphan isn't entirely horrid." Erik laughed, squeezing Christine's arm.

Erphan was a mere block away when he began calling out to them, drawing everyone's attention. "Perhaps we'll have to teach our young prodigy about the finer skills of socially acceptable behavior!" Erik said, scowling just a bit at the scene Erphan was making.

"Sir, Madame, I've taken care of all you asked!" He ran up to them quite proud of himself, and quite out of breath.

"That is fine. And have you a change of clothes now?" Erik inquired. Erphan simply nodded his head. "Now then, I have but one further favor to ask of you." Erik leaned down whispering something in Erphan's ear. He discretely stuffed a small bundle of money into Erphan's hand, and the young man was off again. Erik called after him. "We shall meet with you at Christina Campbells when you are finished." He turned waiving to them as he ran off down the street.

Christine and Erik enjoyed the rest of their leisurely stroll back to the tavern. The park had been a brief diversion as Erik told Christine of what his visions of production would be if he were in charge. His descriptions so vivid that Christine could nearly see it played out in all of its grandeur, the heat of the torches he described that lit the stage for the play warming her cheek.

The town was slowly going to sleep as they arrived at the tavern. There Erphan stood dutifully holding the reins of the horses. Erik reached out, taking one of them, helping Christine up into the saddle. Erphan held out the reins to the other horse, but Erik declined.

He chose to mount the horse with Christine, wrapping his cloak around her as she leaned back into his broad chest. The ride would be much warmer in Erik's arms, and far more pleasant. She turned her head back slightly, placing a tender kiss on his neck. She felt safe, she felt happy, and she could imagine wanting to be no other place in all of the world than right there, in that moment, with him.

Erphan led the way down the cobble stone streets, back to the edges of the city. Once outside on the dirt roads again, the lights of the city behind them, the night grew quiet.

Erik was happy, content, but so much about all of the events of the night seemed unreal. He thought of the glances of the girls in the shop. He'd felt invisible. It had simply not occurred to him that they were looking at him! "They thought me to be handsome?" Erik said to himself.

To him it mattered very little what other women thought of him. He only had eyes for Christine. She had loved him in the dark, the light of day, and through the valley of the shadow of death itself. No earthy beauty could distract his love, or undying devotion for this woman.

So much of this new life he'd be able to live was unsettling. The haberdasher had treated him with respect, but not out of fear, but pure and simple respect. The moment contained neither fear nor power, and that was most unusual for him, for his entire life had hung precariously between those two words…up to this point.

He smiled to himself as he thought of Christine shopping with him, and how she'd blushed when the woman had whispered in her ear. Seeing her across the mercantile, looking at him with such love, gave him such pleasure.

He laughed a bit when he thought of the dinner they'd had that evening. Erik had intended it to be relaxing for Christine, a treat for Erphan, and simply painful for him. He'd imagined fidgeting throughout the meal, wanting to run, hide, find his mask. Yet in all of the distraction of his irritations, he'd not thought of his mask once this evening, until now.

His mind wandered to watching the light in Christine's eyes as she gazed upon the clock in the window. She looked at once like the precocious six year old, observing her father's ritual of setting the clock. How it pleased him that he could do these things for her.

His mind wandered back to the Opera House. Not often, but there had been times he'd felt a bit guilty for having demanded such a sum for his salary. In truth, save a few large expenditures, he'd not really required much. It was the fear of him that bid the owners to comply with his demands. Had the sum been too little, they'd have dismissed it. No, the sum had to be outrageous or it wouldn't have caused them any pain…in the end…it was better for both of them.

Now, out in the real world, he required much. He'd saved nearly all that he'd acquired, making him in any man's eyes, a very wealthy man. Though his tastes rather ran the gamut, he'd found himself leaning toward opulence over function in the last years. Perhaps it had been his growing affection for Christine. His imagining the finery she'd require to be happy.

He smiled to himself as he recalled her comments when they'd first united in the caverns below the Opera House. She'd told him that she'd be happy with him in the muddy depths of the moors, as long as they were together. Her willingness to live a life of poverty and obscurity to be with him, made him want to give her all the more. She was never unappreciative, and often overcome by his generosity.

Oh she was different from any other woman he'd ever known in so many ways. It was her precious heart that made him love her from the first. Gentle spirits such as hers were never raised, molded, nor trained, they simply must be born. She had been one in a million, and he'd been blessed enough to have found her.

He reveled in the warmth of her in his arms as they rode back to the winter house. He could tell that she'd fallen asleep. She was a bit more inclined to do that now, than she had been before. She was always bright eyed and eager to learn. Now, that she carried their child within her, she required more rest, more nurturing.

Erik raised a silent prayer of thanks. "Thank you for allowing me to be here with her Lord. Thank you for allowing me to wake so that I might care for her. Thank you for the blessing she now carries within her. Please care for her as only you can….keep her in your watchful eye, as I keep her in my arms." He bent slightly placing a kiss on the mound of curls that peered out over the top of his cloak. They were nearly home….home...that was indeed a wonderful word.

**Author's Notes:**

Just a brief explanation about chapter 93. Yes, it was likely to be the singular chapter in this entire book that was devoid of Erik. This was intentional. Out of respect for the turmoil that Raoul certainly had to deal with, and for a proper transition for the characters, Meg and Raoul required a chapter all of their own. The end of Raoul's undying devotion to Christine….and the awakening of his feelings for Meg.

Chapter 94 is should really be called Erik's reflections because it was time spent inside of his mind. He'd come to terms with so many things, he needed to reflect. When he lived below the Opera House he'd had all the time in the world to reflect, to write, to simply be. Now being part of the "land of the living" he had to deal with all the complexities and trivialities of interacting with others. He was now in a world where he would use neither fear nor threat to accomplish his goals. He now needs to learn an entirely new set of skills to acquire what he wishes. A new Erik is forming, though the old never disappeared entirely.

**Phantomluvr**: Congratulations, you deserve a gold star (I am being sincere!) Did you know the average person (post-education) will not have read more than two books, cover to cover, for the rest of their entire life? A truly appalling statistic! It (P & P) is a hard book, and it is a love hate thing….you hate loving it…or you love hating it! Good job! Next on your list…you guessed it… "Great Expectations", o.k., punjab expected now 

**Stellalorelai**: I am happy for Meg and Raoul as well. My earlier notes explain my rationale for this, that chapter being solely the territory of Raoul, and his change of heart. Yes, the moment when, if ever it should come, that Raoul discovers Christine is not dead…that will be a sticky-wicket! Yes, so much of the story left to tell. PS. Sorry I've not responded to your e-mail, I've been burning the candle at three ends, and well, a candle only has two, so you understand the dilemma! Hope to get to it very soon!

**PhantomFan13:** Yes, Raoul….a broken heart does mend…but it never forgets! I favor also the chapters with Erik in them…I just thought that Raoul deserved a little TLC as he made his decision. Don't worry…plenty of Erik, the wonderful Erik, is yet to come…


	95. Truth Serum

**Chapter 95** **Truth serum**

De Chagny and Nadir stood by the fire, leaning against the sides of the mantel. Snifters of cognac half drunk, aromatic cigars in their hands. "I shan't recall having a more splendid evening in a very long time." De Chagny said feeling genuinely pleased with himself.

"I am most agreeable to that statement, they simply do not breed our kind anymore!" Nadir's statement making De Chagny laugh all the more. Nadir knew that this was his window of opportunity. If ever there was a time that was ripe to elicit information from this man, tonight was it. "Now, pray do tell, a man as handsome as this one," Nadir pointed toward the portrait that hung above the mantel, did more than hunt wild beasts!"

DeChagny took a sip from his snifter, raising an eye toward the picture. "Ah yes, in those days, I was quite a lady's man. Much to my father's chagrin I'm afraid!"

"Now come, do tell, perhaps we have that in common as well. I dare say that I was once a more ravishing character than the stout little tub that stands before you. Once I too found the two-legged creatures more preferable than the beasts of the woods. Though as time has marched on, I find that I have much more luck with the beasts of the woods!" That caused yet another round of raucous laughter between the men.

"Oh yes, it is a very good thing that we are men of wealth or we'd find ourselves quite alone most nights!" De Chagny said, puffing on his cigar making the amber tip glow a bright burning orange. He exhaled the smoke swirling above their heads adding to the haze of scented stale air that hung like a cloud in the parlor. Nadir was silent. If given no other choice, he would start with a story of his own, but he hoped the mood had been set for De Chagny to speak first. He waited, waited, and then it came.

De Chagny motioned for him to sit in the chairs by the fire. "Yes, I must admit the pursuit of being a suitor was rather tedious. All of those stuffy old men, pushing their daughters into my lap. Pretentious snobs, hardly an attractive one in the lot of them! Oh, do not get me wrong, I suited them well, in fact let us just say that many a fine man in this town would likely be aghast at how well I knew their wives when we were adolescents!"

Nadir laughed, lifting his snifter to his lips. "Yes, yes, I understand!" He paused, "so how is it De Chagny that you've not a gaggle of children running your life amuck?" The pair laughed.

"It is a bit of a wonder, although I can assure you, I'd have been called out for it had any of the young women of society turned up with child. In those cases at least, I am quite certain!" Laughing they sipped the last of their cognac, sitting the snifters down on the table between them.

"I rather began to wonder about myself." Nadir said, hoping this personal interjection would encourage De Chagny to continue. "In all the women I've known, in the biblical sense, I'd not produced even one heir for my estate, at least not that I know of anyway! My wife was barren, or so she thought, perhaps it had been me all the time!"

De Chagny laughed, yes, it is the ones we don't know of that worry us the most. Though I'm certain by this time, the poor lonely women who raised them would have tracked us down like dogs!" The pair continued to laugh, the liquor making them take this temporary leave of their good senses. "Yes, we are fortunate men aren't we." De Chagny said.

Nadir's hopes were dimming that he would share details of his youth, yet there had to be a way. He wracked his mind trying to find something, anything that would assist him. But then, without intervention, his silence had produced the space that De Chagny needed to begin.

"When I was a young man, my father rather worried about that. He wanted no family scandal, though he often encouraged me to traipse around with all sorts of young ladies. I can remember the summer I'd just finished school. He was determined to get me to settle down with the first suitable young woman he could find. He'd had several balls, hoping I'd make a good match." His face scowled, "you'd have thought I was prince Charming the way he paraded young woman in front of me!" Nadir laughed, De Chagny did not, it was a rather sore subject, yet he continued.

"That summer, he'd decided he needed to send me off to as he said, sew my wild oats. He'd sent me to a small village, oh, hours from Paris, where the name De Chagny meant nothing. He was convinced that once I had been appropriately loosed, that I'd be ready to settle down and move into a proper, respectable family life." He shook his head. "I was no more ready to settle down than the bull that roams the pen of cows! But he was determined to break me of this mindset. So off to the village I was sent. An innkeeper became my watcher. It was odd really, she didn't ask many questions of me. My father had paid the bill in full for the summer and had told the woman that I needed time to stretch my legs after being in school, and before I settled down with my betrothed. Though I'd not had one! Whatever the case was, she was a very kind woman, who minded her own business, not mine." De Chagny stopped.

The pause was long, making Nadir a bit uncomfortable that he'd told all he would. De Chagny yawned, stretching a bit, he smiled over at Nadir before glancing back into the fire.

"It was the innkeeper's friend that brought Claire into my life that summer." He grinned, but it quickly dissipated. "Claire?" Nadir inquired. "Yes, Claire, she was a very vivacious young woman. Her mother was dear friends with the innkeeper. I'd oft wondered, but never did ask what the connection was between the women. It was an unlikely pairing since Claire's family were quite wealthy, and associating with an innkeeper was certainly beneath her social standing." De Chagny looked as though he was pondering that question all over again in his mind. He glanced up at Nadir, "Claire was the wealthy woman's daughter." "Ah," Nadir said.

"It was an entirely wonderful summer. Claire and I met in the library at the inn. We'd become quite good friends as she rather preferred the same sort of literature. That was mid-May. She came three or four times a week with her mother, and we'd sit having tea and just talking about books, about school, friends…." De Chagny's face was lit like a tree on Christmas Eve as he recalled the events.

"Well, by the middle of June, we'd become rather fond of one another. I'd half thought of writing to my father telling him that I'd met someone, but I knew that it would be quickly dismissed because he wanted me to marry someone from one of the finer families in Paris." He sighed.

"Claire and I eventually found ourselves spending every day together. She paid a visit even when she wasn't in her mother's company. I dare say we became rather inseparable." He smiled again, flashing a rather braggart look at Nadir. "We simply found ourselves unable to stay platonic." Nadir nodded. "But then by the beginning of September, Claire had started to grow rather distant, I didn't know what I had done to cool her ardor. I thought our passion had perhaps run its course." Nadir's heart was in his throat, he may very well have happened on the very subject he so needed to know. There was a long silence.

De Chagny looked up, and a faint look of pain crossed his face, a brief vulnerable stare that quickly faded. "I was rather fond of Claire. I simply could not figure what to do. Her mother's visits became less frequent, and she stopped bringing Claire with her when she came. It had been nearly two weeks since I'd last seen her. I'd be leaving by the middle of October and I didn't want to leave without ever knowing what I had done to cause this. One night, I ventured over to the house where she and her mother had waited the summer for her father to return from the Americas." He shook his head.

"I felt like something right out of Shakespeare, tossing stones up at Claire's window until a lamp came on. She quickly turned it down and in a few minutes time she was outside on the lawn with me. We wandered far back into one of the gardens before we exchanged so much as a word. Claire held me closely, until her trembling stopped."

His gaze was distant now. His reflexes were slowed, the effects of all the brandy were slowly limiting his ability to converse, yet he continued. "She told me the news. Her father had found out and had forbid her to see me again. The baby would be born and given to a distant relative, one who was barren. He'd tell her he brought it back from the America's for her, as an orphan. I tried to talk her out of it. We could run away, the two of us. But in all of our anxiousness we knew that neither of us could survive long without our families. I tried to stay in touch with her after that night. One maid, that was about her age, exchanged letters for us until it was time for me to return to Paris."

His eyes were glossy, and he rubbed at them a bit before he finished. "I'd received a few letters after I left there, the last one being the most difficult. Claire had birthed a boy…she never even got to hold it….it lived hours only." He shook his head. "That was the last letter I ever received. I never did learn what had become of her. I'd even wandered back there once a year later, but no one knew how to find the family. The house had been only rented that summer, and the family hadn't returned."

De Chagny looked up at Nadir feeling somewhat relieved to be done. "I've never told another soul of this Nadir, not even Raoul."

Nadir reached out placing his hand firmly on De Chagny's shoulder. "You should know that of my many admirable qualities, keeping one's confidences is by far the greatest, do not worry."

De Chagny smiled, perhaps the most sincere one Nadir had seen since he'd met the man. De Chagny shook his head again standing. The stumps of the cigars snuffed in the crystal dish. "I think you must be exhausted by now, having traveled all that way. I do know Raoul has prepared a guest room for you….I'd fetch a maid, but I'm certain they've all gone to bed by now, whatever hour is it?" He said struggling to read the clock. "It is the wee hours irregardless, time to retire. I shall escort you myself, if you don't mind." De Chagny grabbed onto Nadir's shoulder and they walked toward the stairs. "It is good to have you in the house Nadir."

Nadir smiled. In those few hours he'd formed a bond with a man that he'd intended to keep as an adversary. It was often those unintended consequences that made life so very complicated Nadir thought as they mounted the stairs.

Once they were at the door at Nadir's suite, De Chagny turned to Nadir and said something that made both of them laugh, though there was a very serious undertone. "Now good sir, do remember I am a rather skilled hunter. I'd not want to see anything happen to you should you forget your promises!" Nadir laughed, "do not worry my friend…good night."

DeChagny walked back down the stairs to his quarters. Nadir closed the door behind him. His eyes were heavy but he could not believe his good fortune. The very first night in Paris had produced the one thing he wanted most. The rest would have to be investigated thoroughly, but he had a feeling his hunch was right. What in the world this would mean for this entire family, he had no idea. He wondered how, or if he'd be able to find that woman, the village De Chagny had visited or where he had stayed. No doubt it would take a lot of doing, but he vowed he would.

XXXX

Christine had been wandering in her dreams. She could see Erik again on the shore, running with a young girl, hand in hand….she begging him to sing, as they playfully ran through the surf. Christine held a bundle in her arms, she'd been cooing to it. When she looked down into the bundle, she unwrapped layer after layer of cloth, but it was empty. She looked up at the little girl who was waving to her. "Mommy, come here, we've found something!"

Christine was on her feet, empty blanketing abandoned on the sand behind her. As she joined them she looked down at a mass that lay on the smooth sand, it looked somewhat like a jelly fish, but it was formed much differently.

"Daddy, what is it?" Erik stood motionless, unable to speak. The little girl turned to Christine, "Mommy?"

Christine jerked. She was awake again. She could feel Erik's strong arms around her, the warmth of him radiating inside the cloak, keeping her comfortable. She couldn't say it was a nightmare, it wasn't frightening. She'd not tell Erik of it she decided, he seemed to worry so about these things.

Erik felt Christine readjust her position on his chest slightly. How he loved to feel her hands about his waist as she nestled in ever closer…it sent tingles up his spine. He could not tolerate being parted from her, thought the embarrassment of only nights before were still fresh in his memory. His inability to love her smarted sharply against his feeling of duty. They were as close as any two could be, sitting atop the horse that carried them home, yet that didn't even feel close enough for him. Tonight, he hoped, Christine would not worry about his wounds, about his recovery, about anything at all. Tonight he wanted them to think about each other, nothing more, nothing less.

**Author's notes:**

It is with great sadness that I must tell you I will be parted with my computer for five days. Yes, several of family of reviewers can feel my pain, having just gone through this themselves. Friday will be the last chapter until the middle of next week (for those working on "real-time" that means August 11th, 2005!) I'm off to a wedding in Las Vegas, not mine, thank heavens! Chapter 96 I hope, will provide a nice fluffy cushion to rest on until I get back. I promise, I will make the wait worth it. The chapters will continue to be written, though it will require the now antiquated pen-and-paper instead of my beloved keyboard. I wish I could write as fast as I can type!


	96. Sweet Intoxication

Chapter 96 Sweet Intoxication 

The night had been warm for a spring evening, and the ride had been most pleasant. Erphan had ridden on slightly ahead of Erik and Christine, giving them both privacy, and the privilege of not feeling followed. It was nearly dark outside by the time they arrived at the winter house. Erphan had gone in and lit several lamps in the parlor when Erik brought his horse to a halt inside the fence.

"Christine? We are home my darling." He heard a soft mumble under his cape as he opened it just slightly to reveal her blinking eyes. She'd fallen asleep, and was embarrassedly wiping a bit of drool from his lapel. Erik laughed, "it is alright my dear, no harm has been done." Christine scowled, it was very unladylike to do such things. She had been so comfortable, so warm, that it had taken no time at all to fall off to sleep.

Erphan reappeared from the house assisting Christine in dismounting the horse. "Sir, I can put the horse away for you." Erik looked down at him and thought for a moment. "No, I shall do it myself. I've a feeling this horse would like to run a bit before it's put away for the night." Erik had a sudden need to feel the wind in his hair, the firm body of a beast running beneath him. He'd spent so many days and nights lying as an invalid, that for just a few brief moments, he wanted to run free.

"Do you mind at all Christine?" She smiled. She understood the pleading in his eyes. "Do not go far my dear. The night is dark, and the woods are full." Erik smiled at her. "I'll promise you I shan't even leave the safety of the fence…will that allay your fears?" He smiled at her. Considering the circumstances, he understood.

Christine returned his smile, "I shan't mind having a few moments to myself with that book." Her eyes twinkled at Erik. He decided his ride would be a rather short one now. He pivoted his horse, and with a sharp command the horse bolted toward the back pasture. Though the fenced yard was not large in comparison to some, it was still enough space for a horse to feel the freedom to run full out. Christine smiled as she turned to go into the house. Erphan was just coming back out, a gun strapped over his shoulder. Christine's casual look turned to instant disconcertment.

"Whatever is that for?" She gasped. "If Erik is out in the pasture, alone, after all that has happened in this place, do you not think I'd be inclined to stand guard?" Christine reached out touching Erphan on the shoulder. Yes, he was a bit rough around the edges, but the one quality that no one could teach him was what he possessed naturally, loyalty.

Erik marveled at the freedom he felt as he heard the horse pant, felt its muscles flexing, and the rush of the cool air as they ran at full gallop. Erik even enjoyed the simple pleasure of his cape fluttering behind him in the wind.

He'd spent so many nights on lone horseback in his life. Traveling mostly by night to avoid prying eyes. The sensation was liberating. He looked at the glowing moon against the dark night sky. He'd beheld it hundreds, nay thousands of times before, but tonight, the glow seemed different. He was looking at the world with new eyes now. What once beckoned him was changing now… Though he enjoyed this with such unbridled enthusiasm, it took minutes only before Christine's smiling face floated across his mind.

He turned his horse back towards the house, leaning in and galloping as fast as the horse would take him. He was headed back to Christine's arms, not to a distant city with cold occupants as he had so many times on a midnight ride. He had enjoyed this brief bit of freedom, and took pleasure in the fact that Christine understood him. She understood his needs, and loved him enough to let him be who he was.

Erik came into the house after he had put the horse in the stable. Erphan waited at the door expectantly as Erik came in. "I've put the steed away, you shan't be troubled again tonight." Erik said removing his cloak, putting it on the hook by the door. He looked at Erphan, "you did take care of the things we discussed before leaving the village?" Erphan nodded.

"The clock maker was difficult, but in the end he relented." Erik smiled. "Thank you Erphan. Do sleep well. The morning should bring the carriage from Paris and we shall return home before nightfall." Erik nodded to the young man. "I shall expect a full report on 'Oliver Twist' once we've returned. If you found that enjoyable, perhaps I shall borrow you another!" Erphan bowed to Erik, expressing his gratitude and then departed for the familiar comfort of the stables.

Erik slowly walked up the stairs. He'd only been out on the horse a half hour, but it had felt like a lifetime of freedom to him. His wounds had healed much better than expected, and he felt almost as well as he had several months before they even arrived at Courtland Manor. The proper meal, the ability to roam about in public, and Christine's obvious pride in being his mate, made Erik swell with a feeling that was entirely foreign to him. He'd felt powerful in the past, but this was a different type of power he felt at his disposal.

He so longed to be with his wife, to care for his wife. But tonight was about his love, his attraction and passion for a woman who had been a forbidden fruit to him. Tonight he wanted to love this woman in the way she deserved and needed to be loved.

He walked the stairs to the master suite. They were entirely alone in THEIR house. No one to disturb them, to interrupt them, to judge them. As he pushed open the doors to the master bedroom, Erik could hear a splashing sound coming from the water closet. Christine had just finished taking a sponge bath and was coming out in the white lace nightgown that Erik had procured for her at the mercantile that very night.

Erik said nothing. He had entered the room entirely unnoticed, and watched as Christine moved to the vanity. She sat brushing her hair, occasionally reaching down and placing her hand on her stomach. She smiled as she began to hum the song that Erik had sung earlier that day. She was entirely caught up in being the mother to his child, and that made him love and want her all the more.

Walking over to her, he reached out and took the brush from her hand. He laid it down on the vanity. Before Christine could respond Erik swept her up into his arms, kissing her passionately as he carried her over to the bed.

He began to sing to her in a low tone, "Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation, darkness stirs and wakes imagination, silently the senses abandon their defenses." She closed her eyes and in one flash, Christine was back in the Opera House in the Phantom's lair. His powerful words invading her every pore. Her spirit and his voice in one combined. His voice entrancing her, "slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor, grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender, turn your face away from the garish light of day, turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light, and listen to the music of the night."

Christine was floating. She stared at him with such different emotions than the first time he'd sung that to her. Erik, this powerful, wonderful man was her husband, and though she still blushed at his advances, she did not have to deny the inner stirrings of want. Erik looked down at her with such intensity that if his face were the sun her skin would surely have begun to melt.

"Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams, purge your thoughts of the life you knew before, close your eyes let your spirit start to soar, and you'll live as you've never lived before."

Though they were husband and wife now, memories of that first realization of attraction were immortalized in her soul by that song…..that voice. "Softly, deftly, music shall caress you, hear it, feel it, secretly possess you, open up your mind let your fantasies unwind, in this darkness that you know you cannot fight, the darkness of the music of the night."

Christine shuddered as Erik leaned down and kissed her exposed neck. "Let your mind start to journey to a strange new world, leave all thoughts of the life you knew before, let your soul take you where you long to be…" Erik's powerful voice reaching the crescendo enthralled Christine…she could not breathe. It had been so long…so very long since she'd heard him sing like this, seen him in all his glory, captivating her mind, body, and soul, with his very presence.

"Only then can you belong to me…" She gasped, for indeed his very words had come true. "Floating, folding, sweet intoxication, touch me, trust me, savor each sensation, let the dream begin, let your darker side give in, to the power of the music that I write, the power of the music of the night." Christine trembled as he laid hands on her, caressing her tenderly before taking her flesh against his. Tonight he loved her deeply, soulfully, completely.

The two had been parted too long. In these moments, Christine simply needed to know that her husband, the father to her child, had returned to her. He would faithfully stay at their side, guiding them, protecting them with all that he was. As he came to rest next to her in the wee hours of the morning, both were trembling in unison. The sweat of her body had blended with that from his, creating a sheen on their skin.

They held each other's hands, as they caught their breath. Erik reached over pulling Christine to him. "Are you alright my dear?" In all of the passion of the moment he'd only thought about pleasing her, and little else. Christine rolled her head over onto his shoulder, pulling her upper torso atop Erik's chest.

As she looked down into the vast sea of color and churning emotion of his eyes, she realized that though he worried for her well being, he was entirely grateful that she'd not declined his advances. "My dear sweet husband, you reconfirmed your love for me through your touch. I cannot imagine anything that I'd have wanted more from this night than to find myself surrendered in your arms!" Erick so loved to hear those words from Christine. How he'd longed to be loved, and now he truly was.

XXXX

Meg wandered fitfully, lost in her dreams. She was back in the winter house. A storm was brewing. The sky was a sickly yellow, rimmed in a threatening shade of charcoal. Billows of angry clouds hung like a dog over its meat. The air was an unsettling calm, and every animal had scurried for cover. The earth looked devoid of life.

Meg imagined herself standing in the sunroom peering out at the foreboding sky. She saw a strange dark image appearing in the center of the clouds. Its shape was barely distinguishable, though it appeared to be a human form. It was moving slowly toward her, growing larger and larger, and larger still. Suddenly there was a deafening clap of thunder. The winds began whipping around, violently thrashing everything that was not anchored by root or God. Meg could hear shattering glass, and looking down she saw her clothing torn once more as the figure now loomed large in her view.

She heard a low rumble as a voice came from the center of the being though she could not see from where. A pair of eyes, the deepest red with fiery black pupils stared out at her from the churning mass. "Blood for blood" she heard the searing words come out in a shrill cry as the image rushed toward her covering her in a thick black cloud.

Meg jerked awake. She was trying to scream but nothing came. She was completely covered in sweat and thrashed about tearing herself from the arms that clung about her waist. She wriggled free and stood, her head jerking to the left and the right, scanning the room until she had woken enough to reassure herself of her surroundings.

Her breathing was so labored she thought she might faint. She leaned heavily against the arm of the couch where she now realized Raoul was reclining and it was from his arms that she had escaped. She covered her mouth, and began wiping the sweat from her face. This was the night terror the doctor had told her might come. She'd had a completely wonderful day. Nothing had disturbed her, and even now in the company of a man who would do anything to protect her, she was not safe from the workings of her own mind.

Meg walked to the window. The night was calm. Once her breathing had returned to a normal rate, she began to hear the crickets outside. She opened the window a sliver, a cool breeze wafted into the room. It felt good on her flushed skin. She inhaled sharply, exhaling a staggered breath. She was wide-awake now, exceedingly glad to be free from that dreadful dream.

She paced about the room for a long while, circling Raoul, trying to take him in from every angle. At some point, she decided to gently glide his shoulders to the cushions, helping him recline fully. She removed his shoes and covered him with a blanket.

When all the rest of the world was asleep, the hours between dusk and dawn were far too quiet. She'd been up over an hour now, and there was no hope in going back to sleep on her own. The very thought of it terrified her for what if the dream returned?

Meg walked slowly, reticently, toward the small drawer at the side of her bed. She opened and closed the drawer over and over again, listening to the small bottle rattle back and forth. Meg glanced over at Raoul, and then back at the bottle that was now revealed in the open drawer. She wanted it desperately, but feared it equally as she knew the power of the drug was strong enough that the doctor had issued such a stern warning to her. "This is what they give soldiers returning home for their first nights after the war," he had told her.

She lifted the bottle out of the drawer, the chill of the glass was rather soothing in her palm. She raised it to eye-level and peered at the contents as if it were a black widow spider that would jump out and claim her consciousness. The glass of water that Madeline had placed on her bed table sat full. It would be quick, it would be painless, and she would be able to rest. She was chastising herself for not having taken the other medicine as she'd been instructed, for certainly she would be asleep in Raoul's comfortable arms even now!

Hesitantly she opened the bottle, bringing it up to her nostrils. It was a putrid smell, like nothing she'd ever known before. The pills were gray, and very tiny. She shook the bottle slightly and it deposited several into the palm of her hand. Quickly, she sat down the bottle and put the superfluous pills back in it. Held between her thumb and index finger, was the power of a dreamless sleep. She stared at it as she rolled it between her fingers. She closed her eyes and dropped the pill onto her tongue, quickly hoisting the glass of water to her lips. The pill slid into her throat and on its way to a place it could do her the most good.

Meg sighed. Somehow just knowing that it had entered her body, she felt more relaxed. Within a few minutes she would be sleepy, if what the doctor had told her was true, and she'd no reason to believe otherwise.

Meg walked over to the bowl of water that had long since grown cold. Retrieving the cloth from the bottom of the water, she rung it out and began washing her face and arms. The cool felt good on her skin.

Soon she turned and looked at Raoul who was so peacefully resting on the coach. It was deep, and provided ample room for her to recline if she wanted to. She vacillated back and forth deciding what to do. He had held her, told her he'd hold her until she slept. She had felt quite safe there. Perhaps it would not be entirely untrue that he would wake again and find her in his arms as he had when she had first discovered him.

She moved quietly over to his side, sitting down. He didn't even flinch. His breathing was shallow and even, and his face contained neither worry nor malice. Carefully she lifted his arm, and slipped beneath it, bringing her head to rest in the crook of his arm. She pulled the blanket over her legs and shut her eyes. She lay a few minutes hoping the drug would soon reveal its affects.

Her thoughts had just begun to float when she felt a warm breath on her neck. Her eyes flew open, was the dream returning? Her heart calmed as she realized it was Raoul. He was waking up. She listened as he inhaled, then stiffened just slightly, then relaxed. She felt his head move towards hers. He reached out his hand brushing her hair from her cheek. He slid his other arm tightly around her waist, and leaned his head over slightly kissing her temple. She then felt as he nestled his face into the side of her hair. His breathing began to slow until it was as rhythmic as it was before. A tear escaped Meg's eye. He'd woken, thought her to be asleep in his arms, and decided to stay. Maybe he was truly ready to move on.

**Author's notes:**

Glad to hear everyone won't shoot me or abandon the story during the five-day hiatus! I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, it was with such sweet tenderness that I wrote it. I can only imagine being that in love!

**Captain Oblivious**: I was beginning to worry about you! Glad you're back, and no doubt you've been spending some quality time with the "MAN" in your life! YES, YES, YES, you got your Dracula 2000 DVD, and it sounds like you've been enjoying yourself! It just so happens I watched mine last night…probably not too smart a maneuver on my part since I'll be climbing aboard an airplane in a few short hours! I am glad you agree, that Gerard, in any movie, as long as he's wearing a cape, is rather worth watching. There is definitely a "gore factor" to this movie, and parts I have to fast-forward through, but overall, I liked it. I especially liked how the story ended, (not that I wanted to see anything happen to our dear Gerard mind you!) a little bit of redemption made the movie a bit easier to swallow. But back to Gerry in a cape…ooh, la, la. Yes, he's all English, but with a Scottish flair…it darned near makes you want to pick up roots, slap on a kilt and move doesn't it? Oh well, these days he's trotting the globe, so unless one was independently wealthy, he'd be hard to track down! Perhaps your Pauly Shore gun, has a travel laser that can just beam you to wherever he is!

Elizabeth Town, yes I've seen the trailer….I've a friend who I am going to see this with when it arrives in our theater…don't know if I'll like it thought. Is that the trailer on your DVD, or did you go to see Willy Wonka? I've this idea that a perfect movie would be the Three Muskateers, Gerard, Christian Bale, and Johnny Depp….can you imagine? O.k., I have to admit, there is a caffeine thing going on for me this morning, and a bit of fear, as I do not really like to fly, so pardon my crazy rambling thoughts!

Happy Birthday early by the way….I'll celebrate for you in Las Vegas….one moment shall be spent in your honor! "Here's to Captain O, long live Captain O!" Can you just hear it? Oh, here's hoping you get your birthday wish……Gerry in a box….sounds pretty tempting to me!

Darn, I'm still waiting for my "Jury" DVD set to arrive. Ordered it from Amazon, who in turn ordered it from some place in the Cayman Islands! I hope it doesn't arrive wrapped in alligator skin!

**Stellalorelai**: Yes, dear Nadir, he just opened opportunity's door, and De Chagny waltzed right through I! I have a feeling that Nadir is very suave, which likely contributed to Erik's acquaintance with him…sounds like another chapter doesn't it! Yes, the side stories…it is rather like life don't you think? If life were just a singular set of circumstances or events that made up our life, it wouldn't be nearly as interesting. What I find fascinating is how things in this world overlap, one set of circumstances or events, or people, affect another, and that in turn affects another. Life has many facets, like a kaleidoscope, each adding a beautiful layer of color to the next, and only when one mixes it up by turning the wheel, can you see the true beauty it possesses. That is why all the side stories I guess, it just makes it feel more real to me!

I hope you have a great weekend, and enjoy this chapter. A little fluff, a little suspense, hopefully a little something for everyone!

**Liriel-eris**: Welcome to the family! I often have a comment to our newest family members about their name, but quite frankly, yours has me puzzled…perhaps a character from another book? Just a guess. Thank you for your wonderful compliment. I like the word "glued" it insinuates that you're likely to "stick" with it to the end, (pardon the pun). I was a bit nervous about the DeChagny, Nadir, encounter. Both men have an air of arrogance about them. Having watched a number of men in my life go through the dance of sizing one another up, it seemed fitting that the two would be content to be friendly until they knew a bit more about one another. Neither would concede fully, but they wanted to convey a spirit of camaraderie. Nadir is in a much more advantageous position knowing a bit more than DeChagny…but that could change…. As for the relationship between Erik and Christine…thank you. I do feel very attached to that pair…I just wish everyone could experience that kind of maturity, that level of deep understanding, and of course the love that they share…the world would be a much better place if we could all be loved that unconditionally! Again, welcome to the family!

**Phantomfan13:** Thank you for the heads-up. I rather wondered if everyone was disappointed because I'd not included Erik in the chapter previous, and there was a boycott going on that I didn't know about! So, thank you, that explains the lack of reviews perfectly! Yes, darned e-mail. I hope it is resolved by the time I come home!

Five days…no doubt all the craziness in LasVegas, and a very romantic wedding with give me something to add to the story…life often does! Yes, I think we should have a special club for those that have watched the Phantom of the Opera five-hundred times or more….I think I could be a charter member! I play it over and over again, looking at the expressions on their faces, trying to imagine what they were feeling, the sounds, the smells, the sites….I guess that explains why I'm so obsessed with the story now doesn't it! Hope you have a great weekend, and don't wear out that DVD player!

stellalorelai  
2005-08-05  
ch 95, signed

Yes! Nadir did it! Oh, please keep the details of this side-story coming! I'm dying to see the outcome. Actually, I'm dying to see the outcome of every side-story. :)

I know what it's like to wish you could write as fast as you type. Have fun in Vegas. I'm sure we'll all be eagerly awaiting your return.

Liriel-eris  
2005-08-05  
ch 95, signed

You have an amazing ability to have the reader just glued to your story, waiting to see waht happens next! chpter 95, was delightful as usual. It was interesting to see how Nadir and De Chagny would interact, but you've pulled it off wonderfully. And the relationshp between Christine and Erik is very mature, very real.   
lol. you've got me hooked to see what happens next, so i cannot wait for the next chapter!

Enjoy Vegas,

Liriel

Captain Oblivious  
2005-08-05  
ch 95, signed

shriek What the. . . well, there are twins, but what the heck did they find? WAH!

Oh good, Erik was born from love, not from pure adultery. Thank God.

I got Dracula Two Thousand.

OH. MY. GERRY.

Gerard Butler is beyond hot. The man is bloody Adonis himself. If he ever goes American, however, I'll kill him. Any attraction I held for Orlando Bloom COMPLETELY disappeared with the trailer for Elizabethtown. PFFT.

But anyway. . . WOW. What a movie. I want a Gerry-in-a-Box for my birthday (August 11th, YEY!).

Have fun in Vegas!

Mise a jour bientot! (It's funny to see 'Vegas' next to French. . . pfft)

PhantomFan13  
2005-08-04  
ch 95, signed

5 whole days?  
Oh well i suppose i can manage - i'll just watch phantom over and over agian  
if your wondering why i did not post a review for the last chapter it is cuz i wrote this big long review and when i clicket sunmit it said server overload!  
i hope you get your e-mail working soon so that wat i can send you my whole review


	97. Tick Tock

Chapter 97 Tick Tock 

Nadir removed his coat and traveled to his bag to retrieve his nightclothes. He barely had time to pack it when they departed, but knew that the bare essentials would be inside. He nearly toppled over as he dug about in it in the dark. He knew it had been organized when they left, but the travel had rearranged everything. He'd not intended to light the room, as his the weight of his head begged him to retire, but he had no choice in the matter.

He felt his way to the bed, and to the nightstand that sat next to it. There was a box of matches and a sturdy little pillar in a holder. In no time Nadir had the candle lit. Holding it in his hand he went back to the bag retrieving what he needed. He stopped. Lifting the candle out in front of him, he surveyed the room. Certainly this was a place that dignitaries would have appreciated.

One wall was lined with bookcases, partially filled with bound volumes. Large oversized leather chairs, a bearskin rug, and an antique spittoon sat in front of the fireplace. The rich dark wood screamed of masculinity and wealth.

Nadir's eyes were heavy, but he simply needed to explore the room before he could ever hope to sleep. There were several doors on each side. One he had entered through, leaving three to discover. The room was rather large for a guest room he thought to himself. Many master bedchambers weren't even of a size like this.

The first door produced a large closet, empty with the exception of several additional blankets, and a brass box containing additional logs for the fireplace. The third door was a small, but well appointed water closet. Nadir could only imagine what the last door contained.

He opened it slowly, and was puzzled. Not three feet from this door, in a very narrow corridor, was yet another door. He scowled slightly, putting his hand on the knob, opening the door just slightly. There was a faint glow of light as Nadir walked through the passage. He stopped in his tracks when he realized where he found himself. There, sound asleep on the divan, book splayed in her lap, her legs daintily hanging off the side, was Madame Giry. Nadir smiled, quickly moving back into the corridor, pulling the door closed. He was glad she was near…it was good to have a true friend in the house at his disposal. It would make things so much easier. He'd not say a thing, he would wait for Madame Giry to discover the door for herself.

It took Nadir little time before he was in his bedclothes, reclining in a superbly comfortable bed. He looked up at the ceiling with wonder. There on the ceiling was painted the scenes of a great hunt. It reminded him of the long evening he'd spent conversing with De Chagny. Though many a man many feared him, Nadir couldn't imagine why. No doubt he had the luxury of not being within his grasp, but still, he was a rather intriguing man. Perhaps it was the fact that he didn't feel the need to put on airs, or that someone who posed him no threat could converse with him on subjects few others appreciated. Whatever the case was, Nadir was thankful that he'd laid the foundation of rapport with the man. Lady luck had smiled on him tonight, helping him to keep at least one of his promises. "Much to do, much to do." Nadir muttered to himself as he closed his eyes.

XXXXX

De Chagny lowered himself into his nightly ritual. The water was no longer hot, but that was no fault of the servants. The bath had been prepared hours before. Still comfortable, the menthol and sea salts made it pleasant, though it was not the boiling of a lobster pot that he preferred. Growing older, he'd decided was a most unpleasant proposition. Though he'd recanted many stories of sleepless nights and victorious hunts, he'd been speaking of a much younger man than the one now soaking his pains in the depth of a tub.

His eyes were heavy, but his spirit was lighter. He felt as though a burden had been lifted. Something about Nadir had made him let down his guard. He seemed trustworthy and sincere, rare qualities in men these days, he thought to himself. Nadir stood to gain nothing, he reassured himself, for he wasn't even a citizen of Paris. What profit would it bring him to share such private matters? He hated second guessing himself…but it was too late…the damage, if there was to be any, was already done. He could only hope now that the man was, as he said, true to his word.

He looked up at the portrait that hung over the fireplace in the room he'd occupied at Raoul's these last months. His lovely, devoted, caring wife. He had loved her so. How he wished now that he'd been more diligent in fighting for her. Helped her to reclaim her family. It was heartbreaking to think they'd been separated simply because she loved him. He smiled thinking of her with the children, and how wonderful a wife she had been.

The smile changed as his face went blank. His upper lip quivered. "Claire…:" the name rolled off his tongue. He hadn't though about her in years. Whatever had happened to her would forever be a mystery. That was years ago, a lifetime ago. Surely she'd married someone suitable in her father's eyes. Had gone on to have a happy life, a lovely family. One could only hope she'd found such happiness. Something in him still missed her, still regretted much….

He stiffened, scowling. He could not allow himself this luxury. He needed to be strong, to be the man that one born with the good name of De Chagny should be. He sighed, it was time for bed, time for rest, and then time for business when the sun rose.

XXX

"The End." Erphan rubbed his eyes sleepily. He'd not finished a book that quickly in quite some time, perhaps ever. He turned over, looking down at the sleeping horses in the stable below, and then reached over and turned down the lamp.

He was smiling from ear to ear. He'd had a wonderful day. A good meal, a few lessons in manners which were always welcome, and in the morning he'd put on his first new suit of clothes in over a year. Yes, his other stitches were acceptable when clean and pressed, but there was something about having new clothes that made one feel so much more a gentleman.

As he settled into bed he thought about the new name he'd been given. "Erphan…what an odd lot had befallen him. He'd no idea why this had tickled his master so, but if that is what he preferred to call him, he shan't object. Being addressed by name, he guessed, was preferable to a general command containing no sense of individuality at all!

As Erphan drifted off to sleep, he thought of the strong argument he'd had with the clock maker. The man was insistent that he could not let that clock go. It had been commissioned years ago, a present for a birthday girl. Sadly, the man who'd paid for it never had come to collect it.

The clockmaker couldn't bring himself to sell it, as such a lovely inscription had been carved into the wood just inside the case. It had set in his shop as a monument to his work all those years. He had finally relented when Erphan had recounted a brief story about a young bride, whose husband had just been healed from a great sickness. She'd fancied the clock as they passed, remembering one similar to it in her childhood. The clock maker had struggled with it, but in the end decided the clock would have a happier home somewhere that new life was growing, and his work was admired. That night before he'd retired, the clock had been carefully wrapped. It would soon find a new home, one that it seems it was made for.

Author's Notes:

Thanks for all the reviews! Vegas was great. I hope to get in a few more personal notes with the next chapter...I missed all of you terribly. I hope this chapter is enjoyable for everyone!


	98. Breakfast at DeChagny's

Chapter 98 Breakfast at De Chagny's 

"Sir, the carriage has been found Sir!" The young officer shook the chief's shoulder.

He'd dozed off on the cot outside the jail. It had been his turn on watch, and the prisoners had slept, so he'd fallen asleep himself.

"What?" He was standing now, trying to shake the sleep from his bones. "The carriage Sir, the one that had been driven from the Starboard by that Crawlings character."

"Excellent. How much do we owe for boarding?" The chief was reaching into his pocket to withdraw a sum. "That's the thing Sir, it appeared there just this morning." The chief quickly sat back down. "We must send officers, surely that boy is running about even now, perhaps we'll be fortunate and find him asleep in his bed even now!"

"Perhaps Sir, but upon questioning the innkeeper, she said that the young man had brought it there for safe keeping, saying it was his brother's carriage, and that he'd be back for it in several days."

"What? If he's gone, someone must have seen him. Check with every sentry, he must not leave this City!"

"Sir I don't know if we can find him, but I do know that this is the carriage. Just this night I woke a stable hand at the Starboard and took him to it. He remembered the carriage specifically because of the strange red and gold embroidered upholstery, it could be no other Sir."

"I see. I suppose then the prudent thing to do would be to leave it there for a spell, seeing if anyone comes to collect it. If they do, we shall then get to the bottom of it shan't we!"

The officer nodded. He'd already thought about all of this on his own, but it made the chief feel much better thinking the ideas were his very own. "How clever. We'll see to it straight away." He nodded to him and departed. "Yes, perhaps that shall be bait. If we catch another thief and murder, all greater the spoils!" He knew De Chagny would be most pleased to hear of it.

XXX

Raoul felt the warmth of sun beating against his face. He was so comfortable, and he couldn't imagine even what time it was that the sun was so warm. Though he'd begun to wake, he'd not opened his eyes. It was his other senses that alerted him to his surroundings.

He felt the warmth of a body at his side, and could hear the gentle breaths of a pair of dainty lungs. He'd never held anyone while they slept before. But in the last several days, he'd woken to just that, and both times, it had been Meg! Surely in most settings this would be considered scandalous, but in this one, given the circumstances, none would have thought less of either of them for it.

It was quite obvious that they were rather comfortable in each other's company, and Meg felt safer with him there. Raoul felt a proper keeper if she'd not be too far from his sight.

Raoul knew it was time to get up, but he'd no want to wake Meg who was so very obviously sleeping quite well. He smiled to himself as he thought about waking up in the middle of the night with her at his side. She'd needed him, and he had been there for her. That is all that really mattered.

Raoul opened his eyes surveying the room. There was so much there that spoke of shadows of a life that would never be. Though the items were luxurious, it sickened him to think of what poor Meg must have felt living in those rooms these past days. She'd not complained, but he'd see to getting that taken care of, if not for her sake, then for his.

He glanced over at the small table that separated the divan from the large fireplace. There was a small tray with a teapot, his mother's teapot, a dish of berries, and a plate of breakfast breads. Reaching out his hand he could barely touch the side of the pot with the very tips of his fingers. It was still hot.

Surely the household would be wondering where they were, but so far none had come to disturb them. Raoul looked down at Meg. The swelling in her face had abated much overnight. She'd been diligent in compressing it with cool-water cloths, and applying the cream as the doctor had instructed. The skin was still a deep plum and fuchsia, but the surface looked smooth. The stitching barely visible, it was rather remarkable he thought.

He would have preferred to stay right there until she woke, but knew that her mother would want to spend time with her today. He was surprised that she hadn't come in to check on her already.

He shifted his weight slightly on the divan, slowly pulling himself out from underneath the blankets, carefully laying Meg's head down on the pillow. With her face turned with the injured side down, she looked like a sleeping cherub. He tucked the blanket back under her feet. He stood stretching fully. Walking over to the window just in time to see his father's carriage moving down the path from his house. At least this morning he'd not have to deal with him.

He wasn't certain how he'd felt about last night, but he guessed as long as Nadir and his father had gotten along, it was worth it. He rather hoped that they'd be friends. When time permitted, he'd wanted to know more about how a man like Nadir had come to know the family as he did. Raoul turned around, Meg hadn't so much as moved an inch. He'd have the first cup of tea without her, and perhaps go investigating to see if everyone else was awake.

XXXXX

Madame Giry was sitting quietly reading in the library. Madeline had been very gracious. De Chagny had left much earlier, having taken his breakfast in his room, and then working on a few things in the parlor before he'd gone to the Opera House. As far as she could tell, she was the only one that had woken.

She hadn't realized it until last night when she'd been unpacking, but she'd inadvertently taken 'The Pickwick Papers' with her when she left the winter house. She'd read some of the volume last night, and now this morning it was keeping her company until someone else awoke.

She looked up as Madeline came back into the room, putting down a small lace tablecloth and a silver tray. She refilled her teapot with hot water, and a new tea ball. The aromatic spices from the orange tea tickled at Madame Giry's nose. She was accustomed to drinking Earl Grey in the morning, but didn't mind the deviation today. Madeline lifted the small dome, to reveal a sparkling white china plate filled with assorted berries, and a soft boiled egg in an egg cup, with several slices of toast and butter. An elegant breakfast she thought to herself as she smiled at Madeline and said "thank you."

Madeline smiled at her, and turned to depart. "Madeline," Madame Giry called after her. "Yes mam?" "No doubt you know of Raoul's whereabouts." She waited for her response. "Yes mam." She replied. "And just where did he spend the evening the night before last?" Madame Giry was both embarrassed to ask, and genuinely curious.

"In chair, outside room." Madame Giry sighed. "I see." Madeline moved back into the room coming to Madame Giry's side. "Vicomte sad long time. When Meg come, he smiles. Come two-three times, he smiles all times. So sad, so long, but now Miss Meg, he happy again." Madeline looked down and smiled herself. "Miss Meg, she smile too." Madame Giry nodded. It was as she had thought. "Thank you Madeline, for everything." She nodded and departed, she had much to do.

Madame Giry put her napkin on her lap, pouring her first cup of tea from the newly refreshed pot. The berries were perfect. The egg gave her a little trouble, she'd never really perfected parting it with its shell without making a bit of a mess, but she would manage.

She'd finished her breakfast, eating every bit. Madeline right on cue appeared to retrieve the tray. She brought in an orange slice and cinnamon stick on a saucer next to the teapot. Madame Giry thanked her again, and then inquired about the time. It was nearly nine in the morning, at least a full two hours later than she could ever recall Meg sleeping. She'd had half a mind to go and knock on the door, but she was rather hoping to spare the pair the embarrassment of being discovered together. She read a few more pages but found she simply could not concentrate, and reading without concentration was a perfect waste of time.

Madame Giry stood, putting her teacup back in its saucer, determined to go to Meg's room. As she turned into the hallway, she nearly dislodged Nadir who'd been standing just outside watching her. "Pardon me..I didn't mean to…what on earth were you doing Nadir?"

"Watching you read, sip your tea, and talk to yourself!" Nadir chuckled. "Has everyone departed? I noticed you were eating alone."

Madame Giry scowled at him slightly, motioning him to return to the parlor and join her for some tea. She was going to retrieve another cup for him, when Madeline appeared out of the hallway, bearing a tray for Nadir.

She smiled at him, placing a napkin on his lap, and lifting the dome. Nadir's plate contained ham, eggs, and a large slice of wild boar. Nadir looked up at Madeline "Vicomte father insist you like." Madeline looked at him hoping she'd not offended him by putting such a wild piece of meat on one's breakfast platter.

Nadir laughed, "this is fine Madeline, simply splendid, I shall have to thank him later." She gave him a relieved smile. Just as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone.

Nadir looked down at the hunk of meat that still contained a large sliver of boiled hide. It had been left on intentionally as a conversation piece no doubt. He stabbed it with his fork, ripping off a piece and sliding it into his mouth. Madame Giry gave him a rather disapproving glance. "It is wild boar Madame, one does not eat a wild beast with the same regard as that raised on a farm!"

Madame catching Nadir's sarcasm, returned his wit sardonically, "manners my good sir are not for the benefit of the beast you're eating, but for those whom you are eating with!" She reached out for his fork and knife, retrieving it and removing the skin, and cutting the meat into bite-sized pieces suitable for proper consumption.

Nadir laughed, "it defeats the purpose my dear woman!" The pair smiled at one another as Nadir finished his breakfast, Madame Giry attempting to read her book, though Nadir interrupted her so often she made little headway. Nothing of any consequence was discussed. It had taken very little time for them to realize that Raoul's staff were scrupulously attentive, which meant they were forever present though seldom seen.

Once Nadir was done, he nodded at Madame Giry, who understood what he was inferring. "Nadir, I've had trouble opening my trunk this morning, do you think you could assist me? I fear I've locked my gift for Meg inside, and I should like to greet her with this morning when she wakes."

As if orchestrated or scripted, Madeline appeared to gather Nadir's tray. "Madame need help with trunk?" Nadir and Madame Giry didn't have to look at one another to know what the other was thinking. They would have to be careful what they said and where, for the walls here had ears too. Madame Giry declined Madeline's assistance. Madeline took a few steps, and then returned to whisper something in Madame Giry's ear. Nadir watched on quizzically wondering what was so delicate that it was meant only for her ears. Madame Giry reached out touching Madeline's hand, "thank you.' She nodded, turned, and departed.

Madame Giry lifted her finger to her lips. "Now Nadir, if you'd help me with that trunk." Nadir stood and followed Madame Giry up to her room. They walked inside, Madame Giry closing the door behind Nadir. She led him over to the chairs by the window. "We must be very careful what we say. It seems Raoul's servants are everywhere!" Nadir shook his head in agreement.

"I must show you something. I'd intended to allow you to discover it for yourself, but I think you would be relieved to know of its existence, as I think it might be most helpful to us." Nadir took her by the hand and led her to the door that joined their rooms.

"What is this?" She said as Nadir opened the door. "Where does this passage lead, it is so small…" Nadir opened the second door. Madame Giry walked through and her breath caught. "This tiny hallway will be a place we can meet and talk most privately. Indeed no one will ever even suspect as we can do so when we've retired to our quarters." Madame Giry was holding her hand to her chest as she walked around Nadir's room. "This room…it's so….." "Yes," Nadir said. "It simply reeks of wealth doesn't it?" Madame Giry shook her head. "I was thinking something else, but that will suffice." Nadir could only imagine, but wasn't inclined to ask, for when a woman uses that tone, no good can come of it.

"The room between will suit our purposes nicely." Madame Giry said. A sudden look of concern taking over her face. Nadir tilted his head. "What is it that troubles you." Nadir looked at the door and back at her. "I can assure you Madame, I shan't enter your room uninvited, for I am a gentleman and I…."

She interrupted him. "No, I was wondering how long you planned to stay in Paris." Nadir looked at her uncertain how to answer that. He really didn't know, but replied, "as long as I can be of some service to you my dear." He looked at her hoping she'd smile for him.

"Nadir, I don't know how long Meg and I will stay. If we'll return to Courtland Manor, or go on to the Opera House." Madame Giry was not certain of anything at that moment.

Nadir began, "it is not an easy decision you have to make. What is most important is that you make your decision for yourself, and what is best for the two of you. Do not worry about the others, there are plenty of staff to help with anything they might possibly require. You should spend time with Meg. I should like to visit with her myself so as to give you and Raoul both a reprieve." Secretly he needed to talk to Meg, tell her what he'd discovered thus far, and to return to the pages of her journal that he'd found in the sunroom at the winter house.

"I shan't think we'd need a reprieve, but I can understand your wanting to see her." Nadir nodded. "Madame Giry, what did Madeline whisper in your ear when we were in the parlor, was it meant for your ears only?" Madame Giry laughed. "No, she wanted me to know that Raoul had returned to his private quarters, and that I could go to Meg's side now." She couldn't tell him the rest. Madeline had told her that she thought Nadir was rather dapper. That part would be very difficult.

"Under what auspices are you planning to tarry now that you've delivered me quite safely to Meg's side?" Nadir had thought of several plausible ideas. "I will have to see to finding Sara's children, and to her burial next to her husband. No doubt Raoul would insist I stay on through that time. Perhaps I could act as a testator for dear Sara seeing as how her inn has not sold, and it will be in great demand now that the Opera House will reopen. Then I shall have to see to her final affairs unless her children are inclined to do so. That shall take me several weeks at least. Beyond that time, if Raoul offers, I shall try to politely decline, but I know he will be rather insistent."

Nadir shook his head. "If I do agree to stay on beyond that to help you and Meg as an escort, then I shall insist upon contributing to the family in some way. For certainly a true gentleman would not impose on a family without it. There is one area that I am rather trained in and that is genealogy. So, should they insist that I stay, I shall insist that they allow me to prepare a comprehensive family history and detailed family tree."

Nadir smiled, "I've prepared them for kings and queens, dukes and dutchesses. No doubt that will intrigue Raoul's father, making him require that I be his guest." Madame Giry smirked at Nadir. "You have given this some thought haven't you!" His preparedness both humored and relieved her. Secretly Nadir hoped he would be given this opportunity, as its purpose would be two-fold. One for De Chagny's benefit, one for Erik's.

"Now, at some point my usefulness will ebb, and I will return to Courtland Manor. I will have to return to Courtland Manor and attend to business there from time to time, even while I'm staying here in Paris. Erik has given me a number of assignments that Raoul and his father will not know of, so I shall tell them that they are dealings of my own that I must tend to. Surely a man of De Chagny's standing would wonder if I had all of this free time at my disposal. He thinks me to be a man of wealth and possible nobility, and one so inclined would not be able to parted from his home at length. I shall appear as a graceful visitor, and advisor and protector for you and Meg. Any gentleman would certainly understand such a position."

"Nadir, some day, when the time is more opportune, and you are quite ready, I shall be most eager to learn more of your time with Erik, and what kept the two of you in Persia." Nadir smiled, but inside his heart ached. Her curious side begged her to know, but he knew there were some things, many things, he could never bring himself to speak of again. "All in good time Madame," was all he said.

Madame Giry looked at Nadir and smiled as they walked back into her room through the small corridor. "This passage shall be most useful, no doubt we will spend many midnight hours here working on various details for the future. How we will ever keep all of this together for these children, I have no idea. But I know that you care for Erik as I care for Meg and Christine.

That felt like an understatement to Nadir. He owed his very life to man who was at least twenty years his junior. What he felt for Erik was mutual respect, and a deep sense of honor for ever having come to know a man of such brilliance and character. Nadir was the lucky one.

"No doubt we shall, I dare say Madame, that we may be the glue that holds this little web together." Madame Giry nodded in agreement.

"Now, let us see to helping you with that trunk?" Madame Giry cocked her head smiling at Nadir. "You did not really believe that is why I brought you here did you?" Nadir laughed. "Certainly not Madame, I was simply playing the part." He smiled back at her like a mischievous little boy.

"Do go to Meg, I should like to find Raoul. I'll need to be going into Paris proper and see to the offices of the government…." Madame Giry interrupted. "Today is Sunday Nadir, you shan't find anyone in. You must resign yourself to relaxing here in the comfort of the De Chagny mansion. Certainly there are books in the library that would peek your interest." "Hmmm, yes the library." Nadir thought to himself, this might be a perfect opportunity to do some investigating, while De Chagny was absent, and Raoul would be obviously detained with entertaining Meg and Madame Giry. Yes, perhaps a Sunday of leisure would suit him just fine today.

XXXXX

In the stables behind the De Chagny mansion, the carriage that had brought Meg and Raoul back to Paris was being prepared. It had been cleaned thoroughly, the horses properly groomed and rested. Their reins oiled and polished, their tails braided and tucked. Though some might find this excessive, it was a common courtesy for allowing Raoul the use of the carriage. The coachman had been taken well care of, his suit cleaned and pressed while he slept. After lunch had been served he would be ready to depart. He'd be returning to the winter house to retrieve Stephan and Elizabeth, and from there back to Courtland Manor.

The second carriage had arrived with Nadir and Madame Giry. This carriage had been treated with no less respect or attention. A more permanent room of sorts had been arranged for this coachman, as his stay would be much longer. The two coachmen had shared breakfast and most of the morning together, relaying what information that they could. They had little doubt that part of their duties in the coming months would be as much messenger as driver.

XXXX

The staff at Courtland Manor had scrambled in every direction at sunrise. The kitchen staff had hitched the old mules to the only available means of transportation, a wagon that hadn't been used since last fall. The only horses remaining in the stables were being used by the search party that had departed just after breakfast that very morning. A skeleton crew of a maid and one elder gardener were the only ones left at the Manor.

Everyone had been nervous that morning as they parted ways. Their irritation of the previous days had long since been replaced by concern that no one had yet returned. They'd drawn straws to see who would compose the search party. Everyone had wanted to go, as they were so very curious, but in the end, it was two stableman, a housekeeper, one cook, and a gardener, that had won the right to go. Though a rather large group, they'd decided it was prudent, as there was always safety in numbers. And if the group had not returned because of criminal activity, they did not want to add to the mêlée by becoming victims themselves.

They'd packed whatever provisions they could in the saddlebags. It was their hope that all would be well, but if not, they'd want to be prepared for whatever they found.

Author's Notes:

Oh, how I've missed all of you! I hope to get to answering all of the wonderfull reviews on Monday! I've penned a few more chapters, though this is the only one I feel completely good about as of this moment! I am very, very, excited to be reunited with my computer, I've had major withdrawl. I do have to take one quick opportunity to wish a special someone a very happy belated birthday! Captain O, I hope all of your birthday wishes came true...even if you didn't get Gerry-in-a-box!


	99. Time

Chapter 99 Time 

Raoul had slipped out of Meg's room and made his way down to his own. He quickly shaved, and changed into the fresh white shirt and freshly pressed tail coat that Madeline had laid out for him on his turned-down, but never slept in, bed. He cringed just slightly. He did trust Madeline implicitly, he'd not overheard her gossiping once, but he still didn't want her thinking any less of him, or of Meg because of it. He quickly dismissed the thought as he finished dressing, tightening his cravat. It was nearly ten o'clock in the morning. Surely, one or more of his guests would most certainly be up by now. He couldn't imagine that he'd find any of them sleeping.

Raoul walked quietly passed Meg's room, peeking in the door he saw that she still lay comfortably sleeping on the divan. He took but a few steps and then paused. Certainly if her mother peered in, she'd wonder why Meg had slept there and not her bed. He looked down both hallways, and then ducked into the room.

He was at once at Meg's side, looking down at her sleeping form. For the first time in days, she looked entirely peaceful. No reticent pain lingered in her expression. How he hated to disturb her, but he simply could not have her found there. He squatted down, scooping Meg up gently into his arms, blankets and all.

She mumbled something, and then smacked her lips together several times, making Raoul smirk at her. She was obviously dreaming about something. As he carried her over to the bed, she mumbled a few more words, but it was the last one that caught his attention. "Raoul….."

As he laid her down, he looked closely, no, she hadn't woken. The calling of his name had been from her dream world…oh how he longed to know the nature of the dream….was it pleasant…was it a memory….was it the fashioning of an event that had not taken place? He'd have to ask her about it that afternoon, when they went on their walk through the garden.

He rather hoped that would be a daily ritual, at least for the while that she stayed there. Raoul tucked Meg in, removing the blankets, replacing them with the comfort of the silk sheet. Meg seemed to sink right into the bed as if it were a fluffy cloud swallowing an angel whole. Raoul leaned down kissing her forehead, then he paused, and put a tender single kiss on her lips.

He pulled away, inches only, from Meg, looking at her with such sweetness. His attraction to her was growing, and deep in his heart he was thankful that they had first become friends.

He turned and walked out of the room to find his other guests. Some host he had been, sleeping in so late. He decided his father must have departed by now, or he'd have certainly come looking for him to give him the "early-bird gets the worm lecture."

XXXXX

Christine woke, stretching out fully in the wonderfully large bed. She was lying completely relaxed with her arms and legs stretched out in all directions. She didn't even feel about the bed, as she could tell already that Erik was not in it. She shook her head. How time had changed her sleeping habits, and expectations!

She slid her legs around on the softness of the sheets, and the utter comfort of the bed. Christine smiled at the mural on the ceiling. No doubt Erik had taken the most time on this one, as it was most intricate. She blinked several times….she'd seen this before….and then it hit her. Intertwined in the mixture of clouds and flowers, were exact duplicates of the ballerinas that Degas had painted in the Opera House. Christine had admired them so.

Degas's painting reflected a concern for the psychology of movement and expression, the harmony of line and continuity of contour. Though he was envied by other impressionist painters at the time, he never seemed to let that influence his work. Though he was very, very, young to have had such an honor, he had taken on the assignment with such fortitude and determination. Now, on the ceiling of the winter house, replicas of his great work stood as a private collection for Christine to enjoy whenever she liked.

Christine smiled as she looked at the sun that was trying to peek in the windows that Erik had obviously covered to allow her to rest. He was most thoughtful. How one woman could be so fortunate to have found, nay, been found by such a devoted soul, she would never know. It was simply meant to be, and she'd settled in her mind to accept this precious gift.

Christine nestled back under the covers. She was awake, and it was a guilty little pleasure to not get out of bed. There was no one there to judge her, not today, so she thought she would enjoy it if but for a few brief moments.

She let her mind travel back to the previous evening. She could not recall a more enjoyable one in a very, very, long time. Erik had endured his first public outing, and seemed to have relished it, she thought to herself. They had partaken of a very pleasant meal, in spite of Erik's obvious irritation, and subsequent tolerance of Erphan's misbehaviors and faux pas.

A very broad smile passed over her as she thought of the young girls who had been eyeing Erik, and how Erik had been entirely oblivious to the exchange.

Her face blanked, and then a sweet smile and blush took over her cheeks, as she recalled the ride home, and the tender evening they'd shared together…..her Erik….her husband…..her mentor…her lover…..had returned to her. Christine could not take the smile from her face, try though she might. She needed to rise, to embrace the day, she could hear Erik's voice in her mind "Carpe Diem!" But she would have been entirely content to stay right where she was, reliving the perfect evening over, and over, again in her mind.

Christine let her hand wander down her still exposed flesh, stopping just inches below her navel. It seemed but a dream that she could possibly be carrying the fruit of their love inside her. Every day that passed she hoped to feel the flutter of little feet, or some other indication of the life that dwelled within. She knew it would be all too soon that she might tire of the burden of the physical part of carrying a child, but for now, she anticipated it with such exuberance.

As her hand came to rest, she noticed, that this morning, for the first time, she could feel a palpable lump in her stomach. She ran her hand over and over it again, and yes, it indeed was there! Her heart leapt for joy. Oh how she wished Erik had been there to share in that moment, oh how….

Erik pushed open the door, entering carrying a large silver platter, and a single red rose between his teeth. He'd wrapped himself in a thick black robe, but his chest was exposed, and she laughed at how elegant Erik made closing a door with one's heel appear.

"Good morning my dear," he said somewhat muffled by the contents of his mouth. "Oh Erik, do come here!" Erik nearly dropped the tray on the table, rushing to Christine's side. Fear rose in his throat like a mighty river beating against a weakening dam.

"Christine, are you alright?" He said looking over every inch of her that he could see. His racing heart began to slow as he realized she was smiling at him. Without a word, Christine reached out and took Erik's hand guiding it down to where she had made her discovery.

Erik blinked several times as he felt what she had felt. Tears quickly came, as he pulled away the sheet so that he could see it with his eyes. There, a small bump had formed below Christine's flesh. In it grew their love. He leaned over, his warm tears now pattering on Christine's skin as he gently placed a kiss on that part of her flesh.

He slid in next to Christine, pulling her up into his arms. He simply held her against him, rocking her gently back and forth. "Christine, I cannot tell you how my spirit soars." She kissed his neck gently, "you've no need Erik, for I am flying with you."

He reached down pulling the soft sheet up over her shoulder. His hand now wandering down, on the way intertwining with hers, coming to rest over their child. The sheer joy of this young couple was unparalleled, for this child was more than a miracle, much more than a miracle to them.

Erik held her closely. No words needed to be spoken, in fact they would have detracted from the peaceful moment that they shared. After a long while, Erik began to hum a sweet melody in Christine's ear. She smiled nestling in even closer to him. "I do so love when you sing" Christine said blusing, "I'm most certain that your son will love it too."

Erik smiled, she was going to start that game again was she! "Now my dear, we do not know. Neither you nor I should have our hearts set on one or the other, we must simply agree to love this child no matter what it decides to be!"

Christine laughed. "Love it? Even that seems too faint a word to describe how this child will be embraced by its parents!" Erik laughed with her, "How insightful you are my dear, how very true are your words!"

Then Erik had a flash. "Come my dear, you must get dressed, have your tea, I've something to show you." Erik slipped from beneath the covers, going to the wardrobe to retrieve a dress for her.

She stood, slightly embarrassed to be so exposed, but knowing full well Erik would be swift in assisting her as he was quite obviously anxious to show her something, and that something must be downstairs. Erik returned to her, the dress she'd selected the evening before in one hand, and a curious silk garment in the other.

Erik took notice of the curious look on Christine's face, "It is a slip, something to protect your skin from the harsh threads of the dress." He slid this over her head, the smooth delicate fabric felt like melted butter on her skin.

"Erik when did you…" He simply smiled at her, "I think I could become rather fond of shopping with someone to assist me. Did you not wonder how I'd selected a nightgown for you when I'd not even been near the ladies clothing?" Christine smiled, Erik was ever resourceful. He'd have no trouble fitting in to society…not even a little.

Erik took her hand, and led her over to the vanity. She busied herself brushing her hair and putting it in a ribbon as Erik brought over a cup of tea, and a fresh scone. He leaned down kissing her on the nape of her neck, and then gently caressing her collarbone with the petals from the rose. "For you my dear."

"Where on earth did you get all of this…did you go into the village this morning?" She was feeling a bit disappointed that she'd missed the trip.

"Nonsense, I had breakfast delivered this morning. Perhaps that shall become the fashion one day!" His statement making both of them laugh. Christine reached down taking the cup into her hand and sipped the tea. She broke off a corner of the scone, lifting it to her lips she could smell the fragrant orange and currants. Erik smiled as it obviously pleased her. He'd had several already this morning waiting for Christine to wake, he knew how very delicious they were indeed.

Soon, Christine was ready. Erik had been pacing behind her like a child at the end of their parent's bed on Christmas morning. She stood. Erik immediately took her hand and led her from the room and to the top of the stairs.

"Now, I will lead you down the stairs, and when we are at the bottom, I beg of you to close your eyes as I lead you into the parlor." "But Erik I don't see why…" "Uh, uh, no objections, or you shall spoil your surprise!"

Christine glanced at him. His obvious glee in what he had found made her smile, she'd do as he bid her. Erik's broad smile as he led her down the stairs made her smile all the more. She could not imagine what he'd found that delighted him so.

"Now, close your eyes my dear." Christine flashed him a childish smile, and then closed her eyes as commanded. Erik led her into the parlor that was awash in the most glorious morning light. He took a deep breath, "now open your eyes!"

As Christine did she instantly realized why he had been so excited, "the clock! You've brought that clock here!" She smiled profusely, kissing Erik several times on the cheek. She ran her hands along the smooth wood, the glass dome on the face of it. "Erik, it is exquisite, thank you my love, thank you."

Erik moved in behind her whispering in her ear "do you know what day it is?" Christine had a puzzled look on her face, and then it hit her, it was Sunday! "Erik, how very thoughtful of you. You are truly…" Her face flashed with question again as she realized Erik's eager anticipation had not dissipated, "what is it?"

His eyes kept glancing down at a fixed spot inside the clock, and then back up at Christine. Finally he could take it no longer. "Do you not want to set it my dear?" He retrieved his pocket watch and handed it to her. Then he stepped back just slightly. Though he loved being close to her, he wanted this moment to be hers, and hers alone.

She smiled back at Erik over her shoulder. She closed her eyes, imagining her father standing in his Sunday finest reaching in for his pocket watch. Carefully she opened her eyes, reaching out for the glass door that covered the entire clock. As she opened it her eyes traveled from the face that was inlaid with mother of pearl, down to a beautifully hewn piece of wood that lay just below the face of the clock. Her hand flew up to her mouth as she read.

"To my loving daughter Christine on her eighth birthday. May this clock remain as a timeless reminder of my love for you. May time be kind to you, and may you never forget that time is what you make of it. Embrace it and love each hour as it passes, for one can never retrieve it. Make the best of each moment my dear, for I will be with you forever. Your loving and forever devoted father, Gustave"

Christine's shoulders began to shake uncontrollably, as tears of joy washed over her face. She spun around on her heels and leapt into Erik's waiting arms. "How did you know?" she began questioning as she covered his face in kisses of happiness.

Erik smiled down at her, "I did not know. I saw how enamored you were with it last night, and decided it must be yours. I instructed Erphan to have it purchased and delivered here today. It was not until I unwrapped and began to polish it that I discovered the inscription. It made perfect sense to me that it was meant to be here with you!" Christine looked at him inquisitively.

"Erphan told me of how reticent the clock maker was to part with it. He told Erphan how it had been there for some years, a commissioned work that was never returned for. He'd grown rather attached to it over the years, and had decided it would stay there until it's rightful owner returned for it. Alas, Erphan was very persuasive, telling the man of our being newlyweds and the like. Eventually he relented and had it delivered here."

Christine was running her hand over the clock, holding Erik's hand with the other. "How could such a coincidence occur? We did not live anywhere close to Chauesser…."

"Perhaps your father fancied this clock maker, after all, his work is quite outstanding. I understand he was at one time the Royal Clockmaker to the Crown. As far as coincidence my dear, I do not believe in such folly. I believe in what the Greeks called "fatan", a power of force that arranges time and place to be as it should….it was fated my dear that we should find the clock, for you are it's rightful owner!"

"Hmmmm," was all Christine could manage. "Thank you Erik, thank you from the depths of my heart…..you really shouldn't spoil me so….first the statue….now the clock….." Erik blushed. "So you've found my little secret in the garden have you? You were busy while I slept!" Christine slipped her arms around his middle embracing him soundly.

"Yes my dear, and do not tell me the story of it yet. I want to be sitting in front of it as you tell me of it's discovery and journey to Courtland Manor….is that alright with you?" Erik smiled down at Christine who was looking up at him with pleading eyes. "For you the world, my dear." He kissed the top of her head, sliding his arms around her shoulders, pulling her to him protectively. "For you the world."

Erik turned as he heard the clatter of horses hooves coming down the road to the house. "We have company my dear…perhaps I'd best get dressed to greet them!" He peeked out the window, to see that Erphan was already coming out of the stable to receive them. Christine was just turning away from the window to tell him she rather liked his attire, but he was gone. She shook her head. She'd no idea how he disappeared so quickly. She smiled, running her hand over the tiny lump in her abdomen. This was one thing she would have to remember to tell him, that he could NOT teach his son!

XXX

Erphan raised his hand, waving wildly as he realized who it was that was coming. He had so very much to tell them. "Erik," he heard the man on the first horse calling out to him. The man eagerly dismounted his horse embracing his friend.

"And what is this?" he said teasingly as he tugged at his waist coat. "We've been back at the Manor worrying for your whereabouts, and you've been shopping?" Erphan laughed at him. "Yes, among many other things."

By the time he'd finished making that statement, the entire search party was standing around looking him up and down and taking turns making verbal jabs at him. "Come, let us take your horses to the stables, we can…" As they wandered back to the stables, Christine could overhear them asking Erphan if he was the only one there, to which he responded, "no, and his wife are here also, the remainder of the party is in Paris." The group looked at each other. "Yes, Paris, and from now on, please refer to me as Erphan." Christine smiled, a slight chuckle rising from her stomach. "First a new suit, and now a new name, what is next?" She heard them chide him as they disappeared beyond earshot.

Christine turned from the window. Erik had not yet returned. Walking over she ran her hand along the face of the clock. "Father…" suddenly her cheery face turned to sorrow. Oh how she missed him. He'd ordered this clock for her, and had not lived to see her eighth birthday. All those years it had waited to be found.

How odd a parallel. Erik had waited his lifetime to be found and loved, and this clock had waited to be found and appreciated. He'd found the statue and brought it to their house for her. They'd found the clock together, by a chance passing on a strange street in a distant village. Piece by piece he had been trying to repair her broken heart. She paused, looking down and placing her hand over her stomach again. Now she could give him a piece of their blended souls, for that was the least and the most she could do for him.

Erik stood at a distance watching her. He enjoyed watching her when she didn't know of his presence. He'd been watching over her for years, but now he did so with much different eyes.

Christine was holding her hand over her stomach, and reached out to touch the face of the clock. Something stirred in her. She saw a flash of white light, and her mind began to whirl. She saw something that looked like the story of Noah's ark she'd remembered her father reading to her on a lazy Sunday afternoon. The plank was laid out, and there were animals coming from a distance, but something was not right. She watched as the animals traveled three by three up the plank and into the waiting boat. Three sheep, three dear, three turtles, three hare…. Then the white light flashed again and she gasped.

"It is alright my dear," Erik was holding her in his lap as he sat in the chair. "You fainted my dear, you must be more careful…..perhaps we should be more careful," a worried tone in his voice. Inside he hoped he had done nothing to cause this.

"No, no, I've had a vision…at least I think it was a vision…it was like the one I'd had of Meg….only this one was not terrifying…it was simply…most unusual."

Erik shuddered when he heard her. He closed his eyes. For those he had known with this gift were plagued by it, day and night. Sometimes there would be months in between visions, sometimes minutes only, one simply never knew. "Do tell me of it Christine, I am here for you." He kissed her forehead, and brought his hand up pulling her head to his chest.

Christine recounted the details to her brief vision. Erik said, "do not worry my dear, it very likely means nothing, and as you said, there was nothing frightening or foreboding about it." Christine nodded her head. "Yes, I do not feel any fear, just an odd sort of wonder, why three?" Erik shook his head. "I do not know, but for now, do not let it trouble you."

Secretly Erik knew he had to talk to Nadir. He hoped it would not be too long before he returned. He needed to learn more about the seers, for knowledge was the only power he had to help her.

Christine sat up wiping her face. She turned to look at Erik, "the staff have come." Erik looked at her with question in his eyes "the staff…from Courtland Manor?" Christine nodded. Erik sighed. "I suppose they were curious as to why we'd all left and no one had yet returned. Well, as long as they are here, we could have them tidy things up a bit before the carriage from Paris arrives, then we shall return to Courtland Manor."

Christine stopped, she looked up at Erik. "Would you mind at all….if I wanted to stay here for a few days?" Erik looked at her concerned that she did not wanted to return to their home. "Is everything alright my dear?" Christine smiled, pulling herself next to him on the divan.

"Yes, perfectly. I've rather enjoyed being here with you. All of the circumstances aside, I shan't mind being closer to Paris, just in case we've need to get to Nadir or Madame Giry quickly." Erik smiled at her, he understood completely.

"Well, we'd have to reopen the house, tend to the yard, stock the pantry and the like." Erik said looking down at her for some indication of what she intended. "The household has never been here during the spring, I dare say they might be quite befuddled."

"Just until we know Sara's been buried, that Meg is alright. It takes so much longer if the messenger has to travel all the way to Courtland Manor, this would make our exchanges so very much easier. And if they are ever accompanied or escorted, we'd not want them to come to the Manor."

Erik nodded. "You do not worry about being discovered here?" he asked. Christine smiled up at Erik. "I should think that Raoul and his father will have their hands full with Nadir and Madame Giry, I shan't worry about that." Erik agreed. They would be duly distracted for at least several weeks.

"Very well, we shall instruct them as to our intentions." Erik stood, preparing to go outside. "Erik," Christine said, "thank you….thank you for everything you've done…and for understanding." Erik smiled at her and said "but of course." Then he wandered out the door and towards the stables.

Christine smiled. She wanted to see the house once it was put back together. Yes, they'd tried to straighten things up a bit, but a good cleaning was due, if they were to stay there at any length.

She went over to the clock touching it again. "Father, we've a son that is coming into this world." She somehow felt closer to her father knowing that something that he'd bought for her was in that house. It made it feel more like their house, with something of her own in it.

She looked forward to spending time there, to getting to know it, and spending more time in Chauesser. She wanted to get to know the village better. She wanted to have time to talk to the clock maker, ask if he remembered her father. Something about that village beckoned to her, though she didn't know just what it was. Perhaps they could go into the village for dinner again tonight. Certainly it would take the staff some time to prepare the winter house to be suitable for dining. They themselves would no doubt have to visit the mercantile and the like just to have the necessities for a functioning kitchen. Yes, another trip in to Chauesser seemed in order.

Christine wandered back toward the kitchen to retrieve another scone from the platter. She looked down….three remained. She furrowed her brow….three….she looked each one over, she simply could not choose. She walked away, grabbing a handful of peanuts instead. She shook her head as she thought of her earlier thoughts of sheep and arks…. "three" she muttered under her breath as she walked out the door to stables, and towards where Erik had gone.

While they were most decidedly Erik's employees, she'd grown rather close to them while he recuperated. She'd want to extend her condolences to them for Sara's passing, for no doubt Erik would have told them by now. Though sorrow filled her, life demanded they go on living, and that is what she intended to do.

**Author's Notes: **

Thank you again for all of the reviews! I see that our family is growing…it is truly a wonderful thing! I hope everyone enjoyed chapter 99. Please brace yourself for chapter 100. It is rather a monumental thing that we've made it to that many chapters. I never imagined that it would go this far, but alas, I've stopped trying to figure out this beast, and I am but a servant to it!

**Captain Oblivious**: Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday, Happy Happy….well you get the idea! ;-) Susie! How very cute a name. One of my favorite people in the world is named SueLynn, so that name is near and dear to my heart. I hope "she" is as faithful and fun for you as my "Susie" has been for me!

O.k. on to the story. Yes, the drugs in Meg's drawer are something of a question. They hold both the power to heal, to help, or if used incorrectly to hurt. Hmmmm, I'll have to think a long while on that one. I had to laugh at your comment about sending Raoul and Meg Tupperware full of hugs. They are just the sort of couple you could see using Tupperware. Erik and Christine likely would use vases and challises imported from Persia! They are certainly two parallel couples, and I've enjoyed bringing them both together. I never like leaving anyone behind. They are either killed off or paired…oh, I probably shouldn't have said that now should have I!

Now, on to Gerry….yes cape, trench coat, quite literally anything is wonderful. If you haven't see "Attila", you should watch it, if for no other reason than to see Gerry in his fine array of Greecian garments. Ohhhh my. Anyway, I finally received my "Jury" videos. It is a three-pack DVD, although they could easily have fit on one, not sure why they recorded it the way they did. I have to say, it is not all that good, but it was nice to see him in yet another vulnerable role. To see him cry….it was just heart breaking. Makes me want to give the guy a hug all the more! Like I REALLY needed another reason! I hope you've not worn out your Dracula 2000 DVD yet…although I'm certain it was entirely tempting!

Oh, I noticed that you mentioned "your stories". Do not tell me you've been holding out! Now you should feel duly compelled to share either your pen name, or your story name so that I may have an opportunity to read them!

**Stellalorelai**: It is nice to be missed! I've had major withdrawal this past week myself! Yes, Gerard is something of a specimen isn't he! I now own, shamelessly, seven of his movies. I have yet to see him in a role that he wasn't totally believable in. Why he has not shot to Hollywood stardom is beyond me. I have to admit I fell in love with him as the Phantom, but have come to respect him on so many levels as I've seen him in his other movies. I can hardly wait now for "Bewoulf and Grundel", and later "Burns". I still haven't seen "Game of Their Lives" because it was never released in my area, and has yet to come out on video. So, alas, I am always hungry for more. I hope you've checked out his web-site, although I must warn you, this will only further your obsession!

Erik and Christine. Yes, I've much more planned for this couple, and chapter 99 you can tell was no exception. I can actually feel the love growing deeper, and deeper for them each day. Nadir and Madame Giry, being a bit older don't recognize, or are trying to deny what they could possibly be feeling….. Raoul and Meg, I think it is only fitting that they should find happiness…and truly, during that period in history, it was often friends that ended up marrying after deaths of spouses. There wasn't so much "window shopping" that went on then. I hope you enjoy the coming chapters, and yes, as requested, much more of Erik and Christine….I cannot help myself!

**Phantomluvr:** I am entirely relieved to find that you didn't burst! I'd never forgive myself if one of our family members imploded from anticipation! I think you'll find a little something from me, if only we had "A chance to live". J I am also glad you are enjoying Raoul and Meg. I want them to be happy, though I fear they have a very long road ahead of them. So much I could say about that…but then I'd be spoiling the story wouldn't I! Hope you enjoyed Chapter 99!

**PhantomFan13**: Oh I am so glad to hear that someone else could relate to the feeling of freedom one has when riding a horse! You can just feel Erik's release can't you? I must sadly decline to tell you more about what Erik's mother told to DeChagny or I would spoil the story. I am glad that you are tracking the details, it adds so much more enjoyment to the story! Gee, the correlation between the Beauty and the Beast never occurred to me, but I can see what you are saying. I think that is when you know it is "true love" it's not what's on the outside that counts, but it's the beauty that you fall in love with when your eyes are closed, in my humble opinion, is what matters most!

**Ninetalesluvr:** First, let me just say, that there are roughly ten million women in the world that would give their left kidney to meet our beloved Gerard. No wonder the poor man hasn't picked a wife yet….how will he ever be able to choose! The fact that he is so humble about his celebrity only makes him MORE attractive, as if he needed any help right? So, yes, I have to admit, that I do think about him in the character of the Phantom, as much as anything, but Phantom aside, he is quite a hunk!

Thank you for the compliment on the chapter. I was hoping everyone would like it! I've probably said a dozen times or more that I am a hopeless romantic….Chapter 96 just furthers that reputation. I could only imagine a love as sweet as this!

**Liriel-eris**: I'm so glad you explained your tag name. I love Greek mythology… although it's been awhile since I dabbled in it. I haven't heard of the Elaine Cunningham novels before, but you've peeked my interest, perhaps you could tell me more about them!

Thank you for your kind words about this story. I hope that there will be happiness for Meg and Raoul…though it will be difficult. Sometimes tragedy throws people together and they think what they are feeling is love….sometimes it is…sometimes it is not…only time will tell for this pair I guess. As for Erik and Christine, I cannot get the smile off of my face every time I think of them. They are both so happy, so grateful to be loved…and it is simply so sweet because neither of them could see how someone else could love them so much…which just makes me want to squish them both in one great big hug! There is something decidedly special about this pair!

**Larakat**: Welcome to the family. I'm glad you've decided to join us! Thank you for the compliment. I'd love to answer your questions, but alas, I cannot. Although in the coming chapters, you will find the answers you seek! Now, as is tradition with the newest family members, I must ask about your tag name…Larakat…..hmmmm. Something from "Tombraider"? Lara with kat…sorry, I'm stumped…do explain!

**Gipper**: Welcome to the family! It was very hard to be gone for the time that I was, though it was entirely lovely to come home and find we had some new members to our little Phantomfamily. Yikes, a new word….Phantomfamily.

Anyway, thank you for the compliment. Rocking the Phantom world? I am more humbled by that comment than I can put into words. I have enjoyed this story so much, it has become my favorite pastime, actually, obsession would be a more appropriate adjective! I am glad that you are one of the people who dreamed of Erik and Christine being together….I simply could not have gone on living in a world where the two of them were not together….o.k., I wasn't suicidal, but it did dampen my happiness….

You are most welcome about the warning. I couldn't have anyone think that I'd abandoned the story, been hit by a truck, or (if you've read any of my previous responses to reviewers,) been struck dead by God himself! I am glad to hear that you are a trumpet player…my father was, and oh how he loved it! I myself am a piano player (probably another reason I love the Phantom!), and absolutely love the violin, and the harp…but have a full appreciation for all types of music. I'm sure you find that people that love playing an instrument of any sort have a different type of personality than those who do not. They appreciate the world in an entirely different way….hmmm….a question for the day…do you appreciate the world differently than your non-musical friends? I think that is why I put in the story the contrast of Erik being very musical, and Raoul envying people who were able to play an instrument. It gives further contrast to their personalities, thus giving them deep individuality.

Now, I must dutifully ask about your tag name. Surely you are not old enough to know about the US president that was nicknamed the "Gipper" are you? If not, perhaps you could enlighten us! Hope you enjoy chapter 99!

**Poetzproblem**: Yes, Vegas was great. I'd almost like to suggest a "Phantomfamily" reunion there…I could see it now….yes….Gerard at Caesar's Palace….oh my….I've just been lost in a daydream…. It is very much a place I will be going back to! In spite of all the wonderful distractions that Vegas had to offer, I still suffered major Phantom withdrawal while I was gone. Now I am back, and I cannot get my fingers to stop typing! I hope you enjoy chapter 99!

**Mandrin Orange**: Welcome to the family! I am wondering if you are from Japan, where our beloved Gerard has been currently spending so much of his time? If not, perhaps it is your favorite fruit? No? You'll have to give us a clue….you know…family cannot keep any secrets from one another! Thank you for your kind words of encouragement. I shall continue to keep writing as long as there is a story to tell, and readers to read it…or unless arthritis sets in and fanfiction decides to cut me off!

**Seablue4U**: Welcome to the family….something nudges at the back of my brain…haven't I heard from you before? It might be a case of mistaken identity, and if it is, my apologies. Now, I'm hoping that the story will help cure you of your "blues"! Now do tell, do you live by the ocean….have had your heart broken by a surfer…? Just guesses. You'll have to tell us how you arrived at your name….

Thank you for the compliment. Fantastic? I am feeling a bit humbled by that you must know…I am so happy to find a place where people can accept my "mind" with all it's major eccentricities… I dare say that most of the people in my life find me quite mad! Although, that does beg the question…what's so special about being normal anyway? Hope you enjoy the next chapters…..and being a part of our new little Phantomfamily!

**DarkMoonLightBright**: Hmmm…your name has me wondering…either you like oxymorons or, you have an affinity for the contrast between night and day, which means you are very articulate, and likely to pick up on any inconsistencies in my prose….hmmm… Thank you for the compliment regarding the story. I like to be kept on the edge of my seat when I am reading a story, so I cannot seem to help myself when I am writing one! Yes, I've wondered how long Meg could hold out…knowing what she knows…and if it might slip…that is precisely what Erik had warned her about so many months ago when they were at Sara's Inn….he knew the frailty of the human mind, and the ability for the truth to invariably surface at the most inopportune time…. Ah yes, the Courtland Manor staff…they are indeed loyal…as servants were back in those days. They defended their "keeps" with the fiercest regard. We should all be so fortunate to have someone like that looking after us!

Again, welcome to the family…may your stay be a long and happy one!


	100. But a dream

**Chapter 100 But a Dream**

**A humble author's thank you note!** I wish I had cyber-cupcakes that I could pass out to all of the faithful readers who have encouraged me to come this far! Alas, I do not, so I've added the longest chapter thus far instead. I hope you will find it a fitting treat replacement!

It is hard to believe that we've made this journey together, and no one has yet to asked me to stop! Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your reviews, your wonderful words of encouragement, and for staying with this story. Since I cannot be with you today, please know that I am raising a bit of tea to you at this moment in toast to a wonderful group of people who have given me a great gift…the gift of being heard. Here's to you! May you have someone in your life that brings you as much support and happiness, as you have brought me! God Bless!

And so the story continues

"Ah, there the two of you are," Raoul said to Madame Giry and Nadir as they were coming out of their respective doors. Raoul looked a bit sheepishly at Madame Giry. She gave no indication that she'd observed the two of them last night, to which he was much relieved.

"Madeline assures me that Meg is still sleeping. It is so very good that she rests, she's been through such an ordeal." Raoul was walking with them along the corridor towards the staircase. "I trust that you both slept well, yes?" Raoul had no idea that they'd both been up for hours, already had their breakfast. "I shall have Madeline prepare a breakfast for us…." Nadir patted Raoul on the shoulder, "no need my friend, she's taken rather good care of us this morning already!" Raoul winced inside, though he'd not show it.

"Very good, very good. I think you'll find that Madeline is by far one of the most attentive staff you'll ever find. We are rather fortunate to have her here with us." As they passed another small hallway leading away from the main corridor, Madeline peeked her head out from behind a closet door. She was blushing at the compliment. He was always a grateful young man she thought to herself. She went about her task a bit lighter on her feet.

Once returned to the comfort of the parlor, Raoul turned to Madame Giry. "If you'd like, I could call for the physician this morning, so that he might detail for you the extent of Meg's injuries, how long he anticipates it will take her to recuperate." Nadir smiled as another of his staff brought in a tray with strong coffee, offering it to them.

"Raoul, you are most gracious, but there is no need to call on this gentleman twice. Meg mentioned that he visits her each evening. I can certainly speak to him when he arrives tonight." She nodded at Raoul as she took the cup and saucer that he offered her. Madame Giry took note that it was not the same pattern that he shared privately with Meg, but rather the more formal pattern used in many fine households. Royal blue, gold rimmed, white center, elegant, simply elegant.

"Very well." Raoul took a long sip from the cup, he rather needed the coffee this morning. "Oh, I'd almost forgotten, my father asked me to inquire of the physician that treated Meg…the one from that nearby village?"

Nadir nearly spit his coffee out. Raoul passed him an odd glance. No doubt the poor man was suffering the effects of having partaken of too much brandy the evening before Raoul thought to himself.

"I'd have to do some checking myself, I don't believe I even caught his name." Nadir responded, trying to regain his composure. He immediately thought of the times Erik scolded him for telling so much as a slight lie. Yes he could hear his voice in his head, "oh what a tangled web we weave when first we venture to deceive."

Raoul replied, "that is entirely unfortunate. Perhaps you can look into it for me at some point Nadir. I'd like very much to send him a proper expression of my gratitude for the fine care he provided Meg."

"Ah yes, perhaps I shall." Nadir smiled to himself….the request of favors had already begun…perhaps he would find himself quite indispensable after all, and that suited his purposes….perfectly.

XXXXXX

The carriage came to an abrupt halt in front of the Opera Populaire. The streets surrounding it were nearly barren, save the few carriages that were passing it on the way to church. Andre and Firmin weren't in their office, and De Chagny settled into his, grateful for the quiet. How he wished that some of the staff could have already returned, he needed a hot pot of café ole this morning, and was quite unaccustomed to waiting for his needs to be attended to. He'd sent the coachman to a neighboring inn to retrieve one. It was the little conveniences that he missed the most.

He found himself chuckling aloud a number of times during the morning as he thought of the previous night. He'd had a rather enjoyable evening in the company of a man whose acquaintance he'd just made. Though they'd talked of things he'd long forgotten, he somehow felt comfortable that Nadir was truly a man of his word as he had said he was. He was someone who Madame Giry appeared to trust, and though he didn't know her well, he'd heard of her scrupulous caution, and excellent judge of character. If Madame Giry held him with such regard, he should think he might also.

He'd have to find out more about this man. Surely one so versed in the art of the hunt, so experienced in many similar ways to himself, had to come from a rather affluent family, just as he did. What surprised De Chagny, is that he'd made the slip of never asking the man's last name. Perhaps it was Raoul's familiarity with Nadir, or simply the shock of finding him standing in his son's library enjoying a cigar that had made him forget this simple social propriety. Whatever the case was, he'd rectify this misstep over dinner tonight. Yes, he'd need to find out more about this man with whom he'd be sharing a roof for at least several weeks.

His jovial manner quickly turning serious; he thought to himself, when one has let their guard down as he had the previous night, one must quickly even the playing field by finding something of equal value to use as a tool to keep what is private, private. The art of manipulation and control were areas where De Chagny had painted many a brilliant masterpieces, and this instance, he was certain, would be no exception.

XXXXX

Christine and Erik walked arm-in-arm back to the house. Their visit with the staff had taken much longer than either had anticipated. Both had eyes that were red, cheeks stained with tears that they'd shed with their employees when they shared of Meg's unfortunate encounter, and of Sara's death. Two of the women who were in the party felt entirely guilty for the disparaging things that they'd said about the poor woman that very morning. Really, to speak ill of the dead was despicable.

The group had made plans to travel into Chauesser that afternoon when the carriage returned. Thankful yet again for having a generous employer who'd purchased oversized and luxurious carriages. They'd have no trouble all making the trip together, though they may have to make several return trips to bring back all they needed. Then, one would have to return to Courtland Manor to tell the remaining staff of the new plans, and to relay the message to the good doctor. No doubt he'd want to visit in a few days to check on his patients.

Granting Christine's request was not an easy task, it required so much to be done, but Erik was pleased to do it for her, and the staff, who'd come to admire Christine and appreciate her kindly demeanor, were happy to do it for her as well. She was a sweet creature, and all who knew her loved her. Those that knew her best, adored her.

Erik took Christine into the parlor as the rest of the staff brought in the provisions that they'd brought with them. They quickly assessed the condition of the house divvying up the chores that needed to be done. Their proper functions were paid no mind, the gardener could sweep, the stable hand could mop, and the maids could tend to fixing a lunch and opening the kitchen. Everyone would do their best for their employer.

"I think it would look very nice along this wall, next to your portrait." Erik said, pushing the clock along the floor. The gardener had come to offer assistance, but Erik had waved him off, this is something he wanted to do for Christine himself. "I'm not certain," Christine said.

In truth, she was not entirely comfortable. Though Erik was asking about the placement of the clock, it was the portrait of herself hanging on the wall that distracted her. She was not comfortable with such an ostentatious display. To be that full of oneself was not something she found palatable. "No, perhaps over there, by the window."

Erik looked at Christine. "We've moved the clock against every wall in this room my dear, surely one of them would be suitable. Would you prefer another room?" Erik was not irritated with Christine, he simply wanted to please her, and would have been content to move the clock a hundred times more if that is what she needed. It was the look on her face that troubled him.

He stopped in his struggling and walked over to her, pulling her close. "What is it my dear. The look on your face, I'm quite certain, has nothing to do with the clock.."

Christine smiled, biting her lip slightly, she didn't really wonder that he'd noticed, for he indeed knew her expressions better than anyone. "It's simply that…well…" "Yes Christine, what is it?" Erik said, rubbing her back gently. "It's that picture, not that it matters how you'd had it painted in such detail, its lovely, flattering actually, it simply….it makes me rather uncomfortable."

Erik laughed a little, pulling her closer. "That picture my dear? It is something that I painted of you." That made Christine feel all the more guilt that she wanted to ask that it be removed.

"Does it bother you Christine? I could have it moved if you'd like." Christine hugged him closely. "Erik, I love you, I'd not want you to think me ungrateful in any way. It is quite flattering to know that you'd done that for me. It is very lovely. It is just that, well…I've often thought that portraits of oneself hung out on display, smacks of snobbery. Having some affluence gives no one an excuse for such vanity. That is not who I am…..I am Christine Daae…." Her words catching in her throat. She and Erik both looked at the floor. It was the first time in months that she'd used her maiden name. Christine felt guilty for having said it, Erik felt guilty for not having yet given her a proper name.

"Erik, I am sorry…I did not mean….." her voice trailing off pitifully as she watched Erik turn away. She went to him, "will we ever know what to call me? How will we give our son a proper name?"

Erik turned to look her in the eye. He understood her concern, for indeed he shared in it. "Thankfully my dear, we've months to tend to that." He said as he ran his hand along Christine's stomach. Christine smiled at him, nestling her head into his chest. "I trust that what you say is true. And thank you." "For moving the picture and clock?" Erik said inquisitively.

"Yes, and…" she paused smiling at him, "and my dear, for not trying to correct my vocabulary, our son appreciates being acknowledged!" Erik laughed heartily, scooping Christine up into his arms, kissing her cheek playfully. He swiftly carried her up the stairs. Yes, he was a bit more winded than he liked, but he was thankful that his body was responding on command though it tired him more than it had months before.

Erik pushed open the door to the master bedroom, bringing Christine to rest on the edge of the large four-post bed that lay in the center of it. "Now my little dove, you shall need a nap before we lunch and head into Chauesser. It will be a long afternoon, and perhaps we shall even tarry long enough to have supper there. I've another place to take you. I dare say it is a bit less private than where we dined last night, but at least we can do so…..quite alone!"

Christine caught the sarcasm in his tone. Though he had been gracious enough to include Erphan in their little outing the evening before, he was not likely to repeat it. Christine kissed Erik sweetly as he lifted her feet tucking them beneath the sheet, and assisted her to recline on the bed, pulling the silken covers up over her.

"Wait," she called after him as he was turning to leave. "Erik, it is Sunday! The shops shan't be open on Sunday." Erik came back and leaned down placing a kiss on Christine's cheek.

"You are most correct, normally they are not. But just for today, there are several that I've arranged for. Though I'd not anticipated stocking the winter house today, I had arranged for the mercantile to be open so that you could select a few things to send back to Paris for Meg. No doubt you'd like to do that wouldn't you?"

Christine smiled up at him. How did he anticipate her every need, even before she had thought of it herself? "Thank you." She said. "Are you entirely certain that you'd not want to join us for a nap?" Christine was blushing as she reached out for Erik's hand. He smiled at her, giving her a knowing look. He leaned back down for another kiss, this one a bit more affectionate. He reached out pushing the tendrils away from her face, gliding his hand along her jaw.

"You should rest my dear." Christine smiled at him and dutifully closed her eyes. As Erik left the room, secretly his heart wanted to weep for the joy of being wanted. He felt more like a man today, more like a father today, simply more human, and that was indeed a wonderful thing.

Once back downstairs, he went straightaway to the parlor. Reaching up, he took down the portrait of Christine. He thought back to when he'd completed and hung it there. Then he'd thought the picture was as close as he'd ever hoped to come to having her there….it was merely the essence of her in that house that made it feel anything like a home then. He smiled down at it in his hands, running a finger along the gilded frame. He closed his eyes. It was no longer needed. For now the house was fully occupied…..by the woman of his dreams.

XXXXX

Meg woke up, stretching her arms far above her head. She opened her eyes, taking particular note that she could see out of the right one this morning. She blinked several times. The last she remembered, she was lying on the divan next to Raoul, and yet now she found herself quite alone, and very much in her bed. Had the entire night been one elaborate dream?

She climbed out of bed, tugging at her long nightgown. Oh how she longed for a proper bath. That made her both smile and frown almost simultaneously as she thought of the kindness that Sara had extended to her and her mother back at the inn. What a treat that had been indeed.

Meg wandered into the water closet and was greeted immediately by the scent of lilac and lavender. She peered carefully as she opened the pocket doors to a small adjacent room, previously obscured by the door. There inside, was a claw-foot tub filled with shimmering warm water. A large fluffy bathrobe and toweling was lying on a rack next to it. Meg smiled, slipping off her nightgown, quickly submersing herself in it. She had been worried about how late it was before, but now she was not going to let such a treat go to waste. If the hot bath had been drawn, certainly whomever ordered it had intended for her to enjoy it!

She let the soothing comfort of it overwhelm her. Her bandages on her arms and legs, easily slipping off. She'd have felt guilty for it if she hadn't known the doctor intended to replace them tonight. She'd be diligent about applying the salve, and keeping the areas dry and clean until they were re-bandaged. Meg had carefully pulled her hair up into a bun, so that the washing and dressing that Madeline had done the previous evening wouldn't be disturbed by the oils.

Quietly she enjoyed the bath until she heard a soft knocking at the door. "Meg?" She heard a familiar voice. "Mother, I'm in here!" she called out to her. Madame Giry walked into the water closet, allowing Meg time to retrieve herself from the bath. The robe was soft and wonderful against the warm damp of her skin.

"Mother, I'm sorry I've slept so late, I do hope that no one's taken insult to my absence from the dinner and breakfast tables." Meg said as she padded out into the room to greet her mother.

"Do not worry for that Meg, I'm wondering how you are feeling today." Madame Giry had decided not to bring up the issue of finding her and Raoul in a most comfortable position the evening previous.

"I'd rather thought you'd join me last night mother." Meg said inquisitively. Madame Giry replied, "I'd intended to visit after the doctor left, but I fell asleep reading a good book that Er..Stephan had loaned me." Madame Giry was fully aware she wasn't telling her daughter the truth, but had decided that bringing up such a delicate thing at a time like this was the greater error.

"Do not worry, none of us rose particularly early today, except Raoul's father, I dare say the man must have left at dawn! Raoul himself has been up a half-hour only. Now, Raoul has invited us all to have lunch with him in the garden, if you are feeling up to it."

Meg wasn't at all hungry, but thought the idea of their company was worth going for. She'd rather mastered the art of pushing food around on one's plate, giving the illusion to your dinner companions that you are actually consuming something. "I'd like that very much." Meg grew quiet. "What is it my dear, what is it that troubles you?" Madame Giry asked, reaching out to Meg. She was looking down.

"Mother, I worry, about aunt Elizabeth, uncle Stephan, if they will be alright without us, without Nadir." Madame Giry knew what Meg was really trying to say, but could not. "The more I think of it, the more desperate the feeling becomes."

"Then it might be of some comfort to you to know that Nadir plans to pay several return visits in the coming weeks. He's made a promise to Stephan to see to taking care of the details of Sara's final arrangements himself, which may require that he retrieve her from Chauesser before the day is out."

Meg looked at her mother hopefully. "He has not yet returned has he?" "No, he'll be on his way just after we've taken our lunch in the garden." Madame Giry said, a bit of wonder in her voice.

"If it is not too much trouble, and you'd not mind at all, would you be so kind as to fetch him before lunch? I'd like to talk to him, for a brief moment…..extend my gratitude for helping me…" That was only partially true, Meg had desperately wanted to talk to Nadir about the picture. Discover if he'd yet learned anything. Though she doubted he could have just having arrived last evening. Her mother smiled at her. "I think that can be arranged."

She motioned for her to stand, "now, let me help you get dressed, and I'll see to retrieving him for you. I think he's in the library poking around in a few books." Meg smiled. That was a very good sign.

Madame Giry walked to the large closet, opening it she gasped, though she tried not to allow Meg to see it. She could only wonder at the assortment of finery that it contained. Taking a very business like manner, she set about selecting a dress and garments for Meg, as if she neither cared nor knew whom they had all been purchased for. No doubt being in that very room was distressing for Meg, and she would not add insult to injury by making mention of it.

She quickly helped Meg into a periwinkle dress, with a dainty lace overlay. It made the color in her eyes seem all the more blue. Madame Giry braided Meg's hair into a lovely crown atop her head, something smacking of her Swedish heritage. It wasn't long before she was ready, and seated properly in the window seat of her room looking out at the garden.

"Now my dear, do have a cup of tea, while I fetch Nadir for you." She nodded to her mother as she closed the door. Meg walked over to the teapot that sat on the table by the fireplace. It was not hot, which made her wonder just how long it had been there. It was once again Raoul's mother's china, two cups with saucers, the honey that Raoul loved so much in a small pitcher, which is the way Raoul preferred that it was served for him.

She sat down on the divan. It had not been a dream. Madeline would have brought in this tray with these particulars for her and Raoul. Meg blushed. Madeline would have known that Raoul had stayed in the room with her….but how in the world had she woken in her bed? Meg shook her head., she simply did not know, and perhaps not knowing made it easier. She was about to pour a cup when Madeline knocked and appeared in the room.

"Young Miss, sleep well?" she said coming in to exchange the teapot, and deliver a plate of warm toast, spiced with a bit of cinnamon and sugar. "Yes thank you Madeline." The woman smiled coyly and turned to leave. Meg called out to her, "Madeline, if you'd not mind at all, may I ask you…" "Yes young miss, he was here, he stay by your side, keep you safe, not worry, not mention anyone." Madeline smiled back at Meg as she left the room.

Meg breathed a sigh of relief. It had not been a dream, and Madeline was keeping it in her confidence. That would make the morning much easier to face. She returned to the window seat, hoping that Nadir would be along very soon.

XXXX

Madame Giry found Nadir, as she suspected, in the library. Raoul had busied himself with his staff. They were scurrying about to and fro, some leaving in their cloaks on horses, and she'd seen a carriage leave as she'd come down the stairs.

"Nadir, do tell me what is it you find so fascinating in this library?" She said as she came in to find Nadir with a half-dozen books open on the large drawing table.

Nadir glanced up. He was doing research, but could harldy admit to it. He casually walked toward her as she came into the room. "Madame Giry, how is our Meg feeling this morning?"

"Quite well I'd say. The swelling on her cheek has come down considerably, though the bruising is becoming most evident." She walked in a few more steps. Nadir hoped that she neither took note of the portrait that hung above the fireplace, nor some of the family albums Nadir had open on the table.

"She would like to talk to you if you have a few minutes before we join Raoul for lunch in the garden. She'd like you to convey her regards to Stephan and Elizabeth when you return to Chauesser if they have not yet returned to Courtland Manor."

"Ah yes, I see." Nadir had to remind himself to stop in his room and collect the papers he'd found of Meg's at the winter house before he paid her a visit. Madame Giry was peering over Nadir's shoulder, much to his chagrin.

"What is all of that Nadir? I dare say you're making yourself quite at home here!" She said as she started to walk toward the table. Nadir was about to say something to derail her advances when Raoul appeared from around the corner.

"Madame Giry," he nodded to Nadir "I understand you've been in to see Meg this morning, do tell, how is she feeling?" Madame Giry turned to face him. She smiled, "she is feeling quite well actually, she's dressed for our lunch, and had just asked to speak with our dear Nadir before he departs to Chauesser."

Raoul flashed Nadir a confused look. "Sir, I'd rather thought you'd be here for awhile now, before heading back? Father will be most disappointed that he'd not be able to join you for dinner again tonight. No doubt he's a few stories he's not shared with you yet!" That made both Nadir and Raoul laugh.

"Yes, well, it is his stories that had me looking at all of these old albums this morning." Nadir nervously walked over closing the covers and returning them to the bookshelves. "Your father truly was quite the sportsman!" Nadir was thankful for the segue.

"Yes, I dare say he was." Raoul hoped this would not lead to further conversation of the events. Hearing them first-hand was enough, hearing them recanted was nauseating.

"Now yes, I do have to return to the small village by the winter house. I've need to retrieve Sara's remains and bring them back to Paris for proper burial at her husband's side. I'll have the clerk look into finding her husband's burial plot and arrange to have her interned there on Monday. Notifying her next of kin will take more time, and though I'd wish they could be there for her burial, I know that it is not practical to wait."

Raoul nodded his head. "I see, then I shall arrange for your carriage to be readied and brought round after we've finished our lunch." Raoul turned to Madame Giry. "While Nadir visits with Meg, I've something to discuss with you regarding this afternoon." He glanced back at Nadir as he took Madame Giry by the arm, leading her from the library. "Nadir, you can find your way to Meg's room without an escort, yes?" Nadir nodded.

As Raoul and Madame Giry departed, Nadir let out a sigh of relief. Several family pictures were strewn about on the table beneath the pile of books. He quickly scooped everything up into a small bundle and put them in a drawer. He'd return for them later. He left the room, pulling the pocket doors closed, his last glimpse into the library shown fully the portrait that hung over the mantel. It would only be a matter of time, Nadir thought to himself, before Madame Giry saw it and made the connection. Perhaps it was time to take her in to the confidences, or find some way to have the picture removed.

XXXXXX

He made his way quickly up to Meg's room where she'd sat waiting patiently for his arrival. He knocked twice, in sharp, short, strokes. "Come in," Meg called out. Nadir entered and quickly closed the door behind him. "Meg, are we alone?" Nadir said looking about the room. Meg nodded. "Now dear Meg, whenever you hear a knock such as this, know that it is me. Do not call out to me unless you do not want me to enter. This will allow us to visit when we need to with as little attention as possible. You may do the same at the door to my room if you have need to." Meg nodded again.

"Come, do sit with me, tell me have you found anything at all?" Nadir smiled at her. "Fortune has smiled on us dear Meg, here, let us sit, I shall tell you of our conversation last night, it was most interesting." Meg and Nadir sat on the window seat as he began to tell her of it.

XXXXXXX

Downstairs, Raoul was busy explaining his plan to Madame Giry. "If you object at all to this, please do tell me now, as I shan't do any of it if you do not approve."

Madame Giry was smiling at Raoul. "Raoul, I do not object. I am honored that you would go to such lengths for my Meg. Do know that I've not talked to Meg of the question that you posed yesterday. Until I do, I shan't give my final consent. Do you wish to proceed with your plan with that knowledge?"

Raoul smiled, that response sounded most promising. "Madame Giry, the ghosts needed removal, and this has given me the opportunity to do so…it would be doing both of us a favor." She smiled at him. "Good, it is settled then. I'll have a carriage ready for you just after lunch. The shopkeepers will be ready to receive you when you arrive. The privacy of it being Sunday should make this a much easier task." Raoul looked down. He knew Madame Giry was a proud woman, and would not take more than she felt she and her daughter were due them. "Please, Madame Giry, do not hesitate to select whatever you think she might have use for. All that I have means little to me unless those around me can be happy."

Madame Giry understood the meaning in his words, and nodded in consent. "Very well, now, let us go to the garden, I believe they are just preparing the table now. I'll send Madeline to retrieve Meg and Nadir." He escorted Madame Giry out to the beautiful terrace overlooking the gardens. Though not everything was in bloom, the view was none-the-less spectacular, as it overlooked a large wooded area with tall pines, and handsome oak.

XXXX

Meg sat with her hands in her lap, her gaze wide staring out the window. "So it could be true Nadir…he could really be?" Nadir was nodding his head at Meg. "That would make them……" Nadir finished her sentence, "brothers." Meg was numb. Her pulse quickened at the excitement and the sheer terror of the reality of it.

"If they are……then they must know of it….we must…..but how?" Nadir reached out and put his hand over Meg's. "My dear, until I can confirm it, we shall say nothing. Then, we must choose carefully whom and when we shall tell. I dare say we must start with Erik, and if we receive no objection, then we will move on. There is much to look into before this assumption can be proven, for if we were to be wrong…..if it were a distant relative…..or a mere coincidence….then we would have exposed both Erik and Christine for naught."

Meg hadn't really thought about it in that way. She was so certain of the fact that she'd not thought that there might be other explanations. "Nadir, you are a most wise man, and I am but the daughter of a ballet mistress."

Nadir's head snapped back as he turned to look at Meg. "Do not speak so disparaging of yourself, or your mother! You are both fine women, and most worthy of being honored." Nadir's abrupt reaction to Meg's statement both shocked and pleased her. It confirmed in her mind what she'd been suspecting for a long while.

"Meg, do not smile at me that way." Nadir said, feeling a bit embarrassed by his sudden outburst. "Nadir, you've been a dear friend to me, and to my mother. Spending time together these last months under one roof, behaving as one large family in most ways, it would have surprised me if you weren't…..a bit fond of my mother….." Meg paused, feeling a bit like a meddling matchmaker, "as I am certain that she is fond of you."

Meg grinned at Nadir as the realization of her remark rung in his ears. Nadir looked down, feeling somewhat shy and out-of-sorts. "I dare say Meg, that your innocent appearance speaks nothing of your direct manner. Your mother would be most surprised to hear you speak of…"

Meg responded, "quite actually, you might be interested to know that she responded much like you have this very moment." Nadir smiled at her coyly. "What I find terribly of interest is that neither of the two of you denied it, but simply appeared embarrassed that I'd discovered it!"

Nadir didn't know quite what to do. He had been so focused on the other issues of Erik, Raoul, and the elder De Chagny, that he'd simply been caught off guard. "My dear Meg, when you get to be the age that your mother and I are…."

Meg looked at him, her head cocked to one side, a somewhat teacher-like scowl on her face, "my mother is a bit younger than you yes, but neither of you are too old……too old to fall in love."

Nadir stood, fidgeting with his waistcoat. "Meg, I'll inform them that you are ready for lunch, and your mother can come to collect you. I'll see to taking care of the things we've discussed, and…." There was a knock at the door.

"Miss Meg, Sir, lunch ready, you join Vicomte, Madame Giry?" "Yes Madeline, we shall be right along!" Meg smiled at Nadir who was standing sheepishly by the fireplace. She walked over to him and slipped her arm under his. "Now good sir, would you kindly escort me to lunch, we've a pair of happy souls waiting for our arrival."

Nadir looked at Meg, a smirking glance, as a little boy gives when he's been caught with his hand in the candy jar. "Yes, your innocent appearance indeed!" As they strolled out of her room she said to him, "you know they do say that it is best not to judge a book by its cover!" Nadir laughed "indeed……yes….indeed."

XXXX

"Christine…Christine….." She heard a voice softly calling her. "Over here Christine…" Christine felt like she was floating on a cloud. The earth beneath her feet did not feel real. The air held no breezes yet she felt something swishing about her… sparkling beams of glowing light. Christine walked toward the voice at the edge of the clouds. She peered through them looking down at what appeared to be the top of a mountain. There was an odd field of grass that grew there, it looked like a flowering meadow.

As Christine walked alongside this gentle voice, she could feel the presence of something, though she could see nothing. She peered down through the opening over the meadow, and could see children playing. She wasn't exactly certain how many there were as they appeared no more than two at a time, but she sensed there were more. Then she stopped, she heard it.

Off in a distance, she heard it. It grew louder. The song that Erik had sung to her as a child….but it was not his voice….it was the sound of a violin playing the music….it was definitely Erik's music. She watched as through the mist a figure began to appear. It was her father! She wanted to rush to him, but she could not…it was too far. Then she looked down, and on his shoulder was a small child, clinging to him, happily running its arms around his neck. Christine reached out her hand, calling out to him….

Suddenly she could feel herself sailing through the air at the speed of light. "Christine, Christine, CHRISTINE!" Erik found himself shaking her gently by the shoulders. "You've had a dream my dear," he was now holding her as she woke, her brow covered in sweat, her arms aching, her chest heaving.

"Oh Erik!" She clung to him as she began to cry. "I've had a…" "I know my dear, I know." He was caressing her hair as she lay against his chest.

"I do not understand why I've been…." "Christine, do not worry. Do not let them worry you. We shall find a way to talk to Nadir, for he knows much about such things. For now, try to put them from your mind. If they cause you no terror, they might simply be dreams, for you've been sleeping a long while, and I dare say you've had very little to eat today save the bit of scone and a cup of tea." Erik was stroking her hair, trying to soothe her.

Christine tried to reassure Erik that she was alright. While outwardly she'd agreed with him that they might have been simple dreams, inside she knew better. For each one had been preceded by a sense of warmth, and a flash of light of the brightest white she'd ever seen. No, they were decidedly different than a mere dream.

Erik held her closely. "Erik, may I ask you…." "Yes Christine, what is it, anything." "If you should come upon me in the midst of a dream, please do not wake me, I should like to see it through…perhaps then I can learn to understand them….not fear them." Erik shook his head. She was already one step ahead of him. She was ready to face this thing that had cast its shadow upon her. She was undaunted.

Erik looked at her compassionately, and hesitantly agreed, on one condition. "If it appears you are being hurt, or are in pain, I shall wake you….I do not want you to be harmed…..and a sudden fright might not be well for either of you." He reached out and put his hand on her stomach. Christine put both her hands over his, grasping his fingers.

"Erik, I saw my father…there were children, playing in a meadow on the top of a mountain….one clung to him…and then I woke." Christine's face showed the strain of recalling the dream, her gaze fixed yet distant. "I've not seen my father, even in my dreams, in so many years…he looked so peaceful…..so happy….his violin in his arms…playing your music…"

"Christine, perhaps it was the arrival of the clock, remembering your father…perhaps it stirred within you a memory." "Perhaps." Christine pulled herself until she sat next to Erik, head leaning into him. "My love, I've burdened you with things that have tugged at the very strings of your heart….your inner most being. I would be little wonder if they did not stir within you a deep longing to be with your father again." Erik kissed her forehead as he gathered her fully into his arms, embracing her protectively. Christine sighed, she felt safe, always safe in his warm and loving arms.

They sat for a long while, Erik running his hand affectionately up and down the length of Christine's back, soothing her with each stroke of his gentle hand. It had nearly lulled her back into a state of catatonic stupor. "What time is it?" Christine yawned. Erik laughed a bit. She was rather like a small kitten in his lap, relaxing in the lazy sun of a wonderful spring mid-day.

"It is early afternoon my dear, time for you to have some lunch before we head into Chauesser." "But we've no carriage to take us there." Christine politely objected. Erik stood, leaning down to help Christine do the same. "It arrived from Paris not long ago. I dare say they made rather good time."

"Did they bring anyone with them?" Christine knew the answer before she'd even asked the question. "Come, let us go down for lunch. I've no idea what the staff have been able to put together with what they brought, but I'm certain it will do for now." Erik took Christine by the hand as he led her out of the room, and down to the dining room.

XXX

"Thank you Madeline," Raoul said as she cleared away the last of the dishes. "I bring coffee and sweets?" Raoul nodded and she disappeared back into the house.

"Raoul, Meg said, "whatever are your staff doing?" The group glanced over at the staff who'd been coming and going from the house all the while they'd been eating. Raoul had rather hoped they could have been more discreet, but there was really no other way to get to the carriage house. "They're making arrangements for accommodating the additional guests, that is all." How he secretly hoped that none of the drop cloths would fall from the items that they carried out.

Meg shook her head slightly, "oh, I see." It seemed like a considerable amount of work to go through to for one additional person in the carriage house, but who was she to determine what was proper, for she'd never had a carriage house, or staff for that matter. Madame Giry glanced over at Raoul, and he shook his head.

Madeline reappeared with a tray of white cookies, gentle little lumps in the middle. Meg's eyes began to well up with tears. "Raoul…." Meg gasped. Madeline smiled at her sweetly as she began pouring her a cup of coffee. She continued and filled one for each of them before departing.

Madame Giry was dabbing at the corners of her eyes. Nadir did not know what the three of them shared that he did not, but could sense it was a most tender memory. "How did you ever find out…" Meg's voice cracked and then trailed off.

"After my visit with you at Sara's inn, she'd sent me off with a package of them. They were entirely wonderful, so I'd had my kitchen tinkering with a recipe until it was just right." He picked up the plate extending it to them. They each selected one warm cookie holding it in their hand with the same reverence one does a communion wafer.

Raoul lifted his coffee cup, the others followed suit. "To Sara, a true friend, a trusted companion. May her memory live on through the simple pleasures in our lives, and may we honor her with these," Raoul lifted his cookie to his lips, taking his first bite. Meg, Madame Giry, and Nadir did the same.

There was silence as the group finished their cookies, each reflecting on their own private memories of the woman who'd touched their lives in different ways. "The world is a bit darker place without her." Raoul said as they finished their last morsels. They all nodded in agreement.

The silent moment was broken as they saw the horses being led out of the stable and affixed to the harnesses of the carriages. It would be time for them to depart.

Meg looked over at Raoul, "two carriages? Are you going into Paris?" Secretly she was a bit disappointed, she'd rather looked forward to spending the afternoon with him in the garden, after all it was Sunday.

"No, I'm…." Madame Giry quickly interrupted his response. "Meg, I'm going into Paris to see the new repairs being made to the Opera Populaire. It will be much quieter there on a Sunday, affording Raoul's father and I time to speak openly without any changes that need to be made without the prying ears of the workmen. They should like my opinion on several final touches in my living quarters, and I should like to tour the dormitories." Meg looked at her mother and was about to ask when she continued, "you should stay and get some rest. I shall be back for a late supper with Raoul's father."

Meg was a bit disappointed, but having seen the progress being made on the Opera House on her numerous previous visits with Raoul to the Opera Populaire, she knew her mother would be pleased. She was obviously anxious to see them, though she wasn't certain why, she wasn't even certain they'd be returning there. "I see, and will Raoul be accompanying you?"

"No, I'll be meeting his father there, as he has already been there most of the day." Raoul interjected "my father requested that he be involved in this part of the process intimately, as he'd like to see to your mother's needs himself."

Meg nodded, it was obvious that she and Raoul would be left to their own devices this afternoon, as everyone else scattered about. The group rose as the coachmen approached. "We are all ready sir." Raoul nodded to them. The carriage returning to Chausser would have a long ride ahead of them, being lucky to arrive by nightfall.

"And what of the carriage that you and I brought to Paris Raoul?" "It left well before the sun had even risen. With any luck at all, it will have arrived safely at your aunt and uncle's by now."

Meg smiled as she saw the how the carriages gleamed, and how the horses had been groomed. Someday, if what she and Nadir suspected, was indeed true, one brother would be thanking the other for the kind gesture. She shook her head, she needed to heed Nadir's warning, perhaps it was not as it appeared.

Meg rose embracing Nadir, as Madeline appeared from the house handing his bag and a basket to the coachman. She handed Madame Giry her cloak as well. The group walked toward the carriages. Madame Giry hugged Nadir goodbye, bidding him well, asking him to give her aunt and uncle her fondest regards, and to let them know she was thinking of them. Nadir agreed he would. Madame Giry was about to let go when Nadir reached out and gave her one last embrace, a bit longer than the first, before he helped her into her carriage. The pair blushed. "I will be seeing you soon dear lady." Madame Giry's carriage started off towards Paris.

Nadir stood with Raoul and Meg at his side. "Raoul, do you mind at all if I speak with Nadir privately?" Raoul nodded. This provided him the opportunity he needed to retrieve something that he'd seen his staff take into the carriage house. There had been one item, and one item only, that he'd not wanted removed…that had to go back in lest it be ruined.

Nadir shook Raoul's hand, reaching out he gave the Raoul a brief embrace thanking him for his most generous hospitality. "Do tell your father I look forward to challenging him to that game of chess we discussed." Raoul nodded and walked off toward the carriage house.

Meg looked around and then said, "Nadir, do tell them I'm thinking of them, praying for them. Do be careful yourself. Crawlings is still out there somewhere, one can never be too careful." Nadir nodded.

"Meg, I'd almost forgotten," he reached into his jacket pocket retrieving an envelope giving it to her. She quickly tucked it into the folds of her dress. "It is not the…" Meg's heart pounded to think that he'd have given her back the picture, how would she explain having it in her possession if she was found with it!

"No, Meg, I should be needing to keep that for now. These are pages I found strewn about on the floor in the sunroom in the winter house. I recognized your handwriting…" Meg's face paled. "Do not worry my dear, I did not read them, I simply noted the writing and thought you'd like to have them."

Meg's heart was pounding, she'd entirely forgotten that the pages were there. An unsettled ease washed over her. "Thank you Nadir….I cannot thank you enough. When do you plan to return here?"

Nadir scratched at his beard. "I should think it take no more than a day or so. I'll see to Sara's internment myself. I've been instructed to see that she is buried along side her husband…he was adamant about that detail." Meg nodded, she could see Erik in her mind issuing orders. "My dear, do not worry, I will be back soon, and get to the bottom of the details that you and I are most eager to learn of. You think about getting well, and do not worry…it shall all work out as it should." Nadir gave her a soft peck on the left cheek and mounted the carriage.

He leaned his head out of the window, one last detail, he'd almost forgotten. He whispered, "Meg do find some way of convincing Raoul to take down that picture of his father in the parlor. It is some surprise that your mother has not yet taken notice of it. For if she does, well….let us hope she does not." Meg blanched. She knew exactly which portrait Nadir was referring to, and she instantly agreed. "I shall see to it…some how…" Nadir nodded to her. "Good day Miss Meg."

As the carriage clattered away, Meg fumbled with the envelope she had in the folds of her dress. She needed to get rid of the evidence, and quickly, before Raoul returned. She'd not noticed he'd walked behind her and into the house minutes before. She turned and walked rather quickly back towards the house. Madeline appeared, standing in the way of the only entrance.

"Miss Meg, I pour you more coffee?" She turned Meg around and led her back to the benches where they'd been sitting before. "I really must go in, I've something in my room…" Madeline reached out and touched Meg's arm. "Your room cleaned now, I get for you?" Madeline had been instructed by Raoul to keep Meg occupied until he returned.

XXX

"That is excellent," Raoul smiled, it was completely unharmed. He smiled as he ran his hand over the edge of the mirror. He closed his eyes. He could see his mother dressing in front of it, admiring the colors of the crushed stone as the candlelight danced off of it. It had been her most treasured possession in the house. It was an engagement present from his father. This piece needed to stay….yes it was right where it belonged. Raoul walked out closing the door, his footsteps echoing in the empty room. The ghost of one had been removed. The hope of another would soon be on its way.

XXX

Christine accompanied Erik down stairs to partake of lunch. It was rather interesting indeed, a full kitchen not yet at their disposal that the staff had resources to prepare any sort of a meal.

Christine felt strange. There were two place settings sitting on the long gleaming dining room table. Fine china of cobalt blue. Crystal water goblets, fine silver. As Erik pulled out the chair for her to be seated, one of the maids brought in piping hot coffee in a silver server, pouring a cup for each of them. That was quickly followed by shallow bowls of beef broth with vegetables.

Christine smiled shyly. Sitting across the table from Erik, in what was now their house, was very pleasant, something neither of them could ever have hoped for just a season ago.

"Christine, perhaps you'd like to have time to write Meg a note after lunch? I've some fine stationary in the library you could make use of. Of course, details would have to be very…" "Careful, yes I know." Christine finished his sentence. "I'd like that very much."

She looked down, dipping her spoon once more into her soup, bringing it daintily to her lips. Erik loved watching her consume her food, she made it look so elegant, so refined.

In his mind's eye he could imagine Christine teaching their daughter how to sit up straight, bring the spoon to her-not her to the spoon…… His imagination getting the best of him, he glanced around the table, seeing it full, children sitting properly as their family enjoyed an elegant Christmas dinner. The mantle adorned with holly and pine, the fire crackling in the hearth, a glittering tree full of carefully selected ornaments lay off in the corner, and the promise of a splendid Christmas morning…he could very nearly smell the mulled cider…..

"Erik?" Christine was smiling at him. "And just where were you off to my dear?" She said, smirking at his obvious return from his daydream. Erik smiled, blushing slightly, clearing his throat, rearranging his seating position.

"I was just….imagining…." Erik trailed off. How could he tell her what he'd been dreaming of? All of his life he'd only seen Christmas celebrations in story books. Even the years he'd spent in Persia, he'd decline the celebration, for there was neither cause nor room for celebration in that place. He and Nadir had been recluses, stealing away to a dark room with a bottle of brandy on more than one of such holidays. Now, there was the promise of something that came right off the pages of what he thought that Dickens would have written.

Christine smiled at him a reassuring smile, "I think of it too, our house, filled with family for the holidays…" she reached down, dipping her spoon yet again into her soup.

Erik flinched, did his ears deceive him? What had she just said? His heart began to beat faster, surely one curse was enough, pray do tell she did not have yet another cross to bear.

Christine simply smiled at him across the table. "Erik, do not worry, I cannot read your mind…." Erik flinched again, the nerve in his right cheek was pulsating. "What is this you speak of Christine?" She put her spoon down on the plate beneath her bowl.

"Last night, you were dreaming…" Erik cocked his head slightly to one side, her words confounded him. She glanced down, and then up at him again. "Did you not know you speak while you slumber?" Erik shook his head no, almost in disbelief, who would ever have told him if he had?

"You were talking about presents under a tree, of eggnog, of pine bough….and you were instructing children, yes in the plural form, as to where they should sit while their presents were given them." She laughed a little, raising her eyebrows, "you were quite animated my dear!"

Erik smiled, he'd not remembered a single thing from the dream. "I just assumed, perhaps naively, that you were lost but again in that dream as you drifted off over your soup." She smiled at him lovingly. Something about her expression told him….she'd been dreaming of it too!

Erik chuckled. "My dear, you are a multi-faceted, very complex creature….I shall enjoy having a lifetime to discover each part of your wonderful being!" The pair laughed as they finished their soup. They'd no idea what the staff would bring in next, but there was something they overheard about lox and fingerling potatoes that intrigued them.

**Author's Notes:**

**Diveprincess**: My word, you have a promising future my dear! I know someone very well that loves, loves, loves, dolphins…but alas, she hasn't the scholastic aptitude, nor location, to participate in Marine Biology! Now, on to those broken bones! We always have to ask ourselves why things happen, and who knows why this did, but we have to trust that there was a reason. Right before your senior year no less! I'll say a couple extra prayers for a swift healing  Both legs? Sometime, when you're feeling up to it, perhaps you'll share with your little "Phantomfamily" what on earth you were doing that sent you off a cliff…

I hope that this very long chapter has brought you comfort…and oh, by the way….you'd be getting two cyber cupcakes!

**Liriel: **First, I must tell you, I never consider conversation rambling…I am very verbose myself (I guess that's fairly obvious) so do not fear that you ramble! Second, thank you for your most kind words. I do love these characters, almost as if they were real to me…alas, they do exist in the depths of my mind! It has been such a wonderful thing for me to be able to do this, and I am more than pleased that others are enjoying it with me! I hope you liked this very long chapter! PS. I'll be checking out those Cunningham novels, if I can find them!

**DarkMoonLightBright**: Oh finally, I had some little-bitty insight into a chosen name! I too like the parallel of the light of day, and the dark of night. I love contrast…hmmmm. I've said to others I'm sort of a bat-bird, I stay up with the bats, and get up with the birds…I simply cannot miss out on either extreme! I'm glad you're liking the little side-trips about the statues and the other things too. To me, they add a very realistic quality to a story. Those things obviously add length to the story, but certainly depth. The gender of the baby…well…Christine and Erik are still fighting over that one! LOL! Yes Raoul does seem to be falling fast for Meg, but that often happened in those days…perhaps because their life span was so much shorter than ours…they had to seize the opportunity when it presented itself or it vanished before them! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

**Poetzproblem**: My, my, you are a deep thinker…I like it! Yes, the numbers are always representative of something….but I can say no more…. I'm glad you're liking the fluff with Meg and Raoul. I know some of the E/C lovers may be getting a little tired of it, but I hope that they can trust me…I had to lay the ground work for something special! I hope you enjoyed this very long chapter. The 100th one had to be something special!

**Phantomluvr**: I'm glad to see you found my little surprise! We all need a little encouragement from time to time! Thank you for the compliment…I think. Some people would find that a story that manages to cover so little ground in so many words to be tedious, but something about this story makes me move in slow motion…almost like I'm afraid I'll miss the mood, a feeling, a fleeting glance, if I go too fast. It is my style yes, but it is more so the story itself that begs me to tarry….. I hope you enjoyed the last, very, very, long chapter!

**Hopelesslyobsessed**: Welcome to the family! Yes, I do think I can fully appreciate your name right away…I often feel that exact same way when I think of the Phantom of the Opera…I've been accused of insanity because my favorite thing to do is secretly steal away to the darkness of my library with candles lit, the Phantom CD playing and writing…..I guess that fits the obsession! I hope you stay with us on this journey, and enjoy being part of our Phantomfamily! Thank you for the compliment. It is always nice to hear that someone is waiting for me!


	101. A household emerges

**Chapter 101 A household emerges**

The ride into Chauesser was quite uneventful. The carriage was entirely full, including all the seats above by the coachman. Save the few brief conversations that they had about how warm it was, and what items needed to be purchased, the ride was quiet.

Christine sat next to Erik, his arm draped protectively around her shoulder as her head leaned into him. Erphan sat directly across from him, preferring the inside of the carriage, to the coachman's seat today, for he'd never taken the journey inside the carriage and was quite interested to see how it felt.

Erik chuckled to himself several times as he noticed Erphan looking at him, trying to imitate his posture, and squaring of his jaw. The others looked at Erphan oddly as if he were a foreigner in their midst. Through his nearly-shut eyes, Erik observed them all. They were silent now, thinking he and Christine to be asleep, but nothing was further from the truth.

Erik thought about the evening of mixed social classes that had transpired several nights ago, when all were pushed unwillingly into a set of circumstances that were out of their control. It had been an odd situation, nothing conventional, as they all shared time and space as equals that night.

As Erik watched Erphan, he had an epiphany. No doubt these would be the very people that would be in his household for several years, if not much longer. They all looked a bit rough around the edges, and he dared think, a bit under-educated. True, they knew much about their crafts, that is why Nadir had selected them, but what did they know of the finer things, social graces, good literature, sciences, and the like? Probably little if at all. These were going to be the people who his child would be exposed to, cared for by, and sharing a home with.

Erik's brow furrowed. Perhaps it was time to be a bit unconventional, a bit daring. He'd have to discuss it with Christine first, but he had no doubt that she would approve, for truly, it would benefit one and all.

Erik sat up, Christine doing the same as the sound of the carriage wheels meeting with the cobblestone streets of the outskirts of Chauesser resounded in the carriage. Only Erik and Christine were straightening their garments, the remainder of them simply sat still, waiting to be let out. Yes, Erik thought to himself….it would benefit them all.

The carriage came to a stop in front of the Mercantile. The coachman quickly opening the door, allowing the staff to topple out, and then extending his hand to Christine. Erik followed, stopping briefly to put the first of his ideas into motion.

Taking the coachman aside, he discretely said, "good sir, from now on, I should like it very much if you'd extend the same courtesy to anyone exiting the carriage, whether it is my wife, or the maid. See to it sir?" Said as a question to be polite, though in truth it was an order. The coachman nodded, somewhat bewildered by the change in social structure, but agreed none-the-less.

The group now stood on the plank-lined porch in front of the Mercantile. Erik could see the shopkeeper coming to the door, keys in hand. Quietly he opened the door, allowing them entrance, and then locking the door behind them. Erik nodded to the coachman through the window. He'd take the carriage around to the back, where it would be loaded with all the things that they'd purchase.

Erik extended his hand to the merchant, thanking him most graciously for allowing them to conduct business on a Sunday. "No Sir, we shall not be conducting business today." The man said to Erik. Erik looked at him somewhat puzzled. "Then whyever did you permit us entrance if you were not…" The merchant was shaking his head.

"On occasion, members of our village have needs that simply cannot wait until Monday. It has always been our arrangement that I shall help them on the Lord's day, but no money will be exchanged. You can come into Chauesser on the morrow to settle your account."

Erik smiled, "that is most generous, and trusting of you sir, how do you know that I shan't simply run off and not pay my bill?" Erik had met few in his life that were that trusting.

"Sir, it is the Lord's day. It is but a blessing that my wife and I are able to have this shop, in this wonderful little village. If He sees fit to allow us to prosper, then I see fit to provide acts of kindness in return. If you and your family are in need, then it is my duty to help you." Erik looked at him in amazement. What an excellent answer indeed!

The merchant added one final comment, "that aside sir, I must tell you, I do know where you keep your house. We are most pleased to see that you'll be occupying it, if however briefly. We've need for good blood in this village, and for fine families to make their permanent homes here. Perhaps this kindness will encourage you to think of it." Erik smiled, "perhaps."

Christine stood off to the side as the men conversed. The staff were milling about like tiny mice wandering in a cheese shop. The day was light, and the merchant had not lit so much as one lamp in the store, lest the group be discovered. All the other shops on the street were dark, and no one had reason to believe that the Mercantile was open.

The merchant led Christine and Erik to a small round table with two chairs. It was where Erik had noticed a few couples sharing pots of tea last evening. His wife appeared out of nowhere with a small pot of tea. "Thought you might like this while you wait." She said, sitting it on the table in front of Christine. "Thank you." Christine said sweetly as the woman nodded and departed behind the side door. The merchant had gone to assist the gardener with a rather large rake.

"Christine, I've been thinking…" She smiled at Erik as she poured them each a proper cup of tea. "Yes?" "Our staff, I don't know of their education, their background. Nadir selected them for me, and since it was unlikely that I'd occupy the houses at any length, it mattered little to me as long as they knew their functions, and were politely mannered." Erik smiled at Christine as she handed him his cup.

"What is it that you have in mind my dear?" Christine said as she lifted her cup to her lips. "Perhaps we should think about providing some sort of education, refinement, occasion for use of manners, discussion of proper sorts." Christine merely listened. Erik turned his eyes to her and spoke in a low tone. "These are the very people that our child shall be surrounded by. Does it not make sense that they should be a bit refined?"

Christine shook her head. Erik the father, was already worrying about the influences of others on their yet unborn child. "Erik, I am inclined to agree to whatever you believe we should do….whatever your heart tells you to do. I've no doubt that they shan't object to whatever you might ask of them."

Erik cocked his head. "It's not so much what I shall ask of them, as what I shall like to do for them." Erik was uncomfortable thinking aloud, but with Christine, it seemed natural, as he shared everything about his present and future with her now. "I should like them to be able to hold their heads high when they are in public. To present themselves with poise and grace. I think we should conduct a dinner, let us say the second and fourth Saturdays of every month, where we can join together round a proper dinner table for a good meal. We can educate them in manners, and the like. Play games as we did several evenings past, and share in good discussion."

Erik's eyes grew wide. "I shall loan them books from the library, requiring them to read and report." A large smile crossed Erik's face. "Perhaps we shall see to some formal garments for each of them, something they could wear into the village and not be spotted as a servant, but as gentlemen and ladies."

Christine smiled at Erik, she could understand perfectly. Though he likely didn't recognize it himself, his purpose was less pointed, and more kindred than he'd actually be wiling to admit.

First, yes, he'd want them to be a good influence on his children, that almost went without saying. Second, he'd want them to be less grating on his nerves when in social settings, but the deeper truth, lay in the less obvious third purpose.

Erik himself had been released from the bondage of a social stigma. He knew the pain, the disgrace, the glances and judgment that came with not belonging to a particular level of society. If one was not well-bred, or in a position of power, you were no one at all, and of only peripheral value. Your life could pass before the world with little notice. Under appreciated, under valued, under utilized, and undiscovered. He'd been freed, and in turn, to truly embrace the appreciation of this gift, he had to give it to someone else, to help be their freedom….and if anyone could artfully succeed at this social coop, it would be Erik. In this tiny hamlet of Chauesser, he had no past, no expectations attached to him or his household. They were free to make of it what they liked, and that suited Erik's purposes.

Christine smiled at him, extending her hand. "You are not only handsome, talented, and brave, but you are brilliant as well…..I think it to be a perfectly wonderful idea my dear, simply wonderful." Erik returned her smile, happy that she so readily agreed.

Erphan was the first to present, pronouncing himself finished with his assignment. He looked like an eager schoolboy awaiting his reward.

Erik simply nodded, "ask the merchant to write down what you have, and then see to getting it packed in the carriage will you?" Erphan's face downed just slightly, but he nodded and complied.

Christine looked at Erik a bit of disappointment in her glance. "Now my dear, do not think me harsh. If I were to pay particular attention to Erphan, do you not think it would be noticed?" Christine scowled politely. "I've no intentions of creating pets in our household my dear. Everyone will be treated with equal respect, and equal responsibility." Erik took a sip of his tea. "For if I did not, would I not simply perpetuate more of the same attitudes, one being better or preferable to the other? Favoritism is no one's friend my dear."

Christine at once felt guilty for questioning Erik's actions. Having lived a wider and longer life than she, he no doubt was much wiser. Christine simply nodded in agreement. Erik was taking control of their household; being the man that he was born to be.

One by one, the staff presented themselves to Erik and Christine, some needing to ask questions before making final selections. It was quite nearly three in the afternoon when the last finished. The carriage was fully loaded, and with the exception of the drivers bench on the top, there was room for only one passenger inside the carriage.

Erik approached as the group of them stood quietly squabbling about who should journey back to the winter house, and who would be left in the village. Erik made haste to remedy this question.

"I shall ask a question, and the first who knows the answer should raise their hand. That person is the one that shall have the first ride in the carriage.

Everyone was eager to return, for they'd given a treat of choice, and a book to read. There would be no formal dinner tonight, each would fend for themselves.

The group circled around Erik as if he were a great storyteller, eagerly anticipating the first question. "What was the first novel Charles Dickens ever wrote?" Erik thinking this might be an easy question, as Dickens was a most popular author. There was silence. He would try again. "Who wrote 'Lady Byron Vindicated'?" Still no response. Erik thought again. "Who was Nicole-Reine Lepaute, and what did she discover?" He was confident he would have a taker…after all she was French, and her husband had been the royal clock-maker. Still nothing. The group began to look despondent.

"Perhaps something a bit different then. Name one member of the Raphaelite Brotherhood, a hint perhaps, there were seven of them." Erik was hopeful, this was a current movement in the world of art! He waited, still nothing. "Who wrote 'Charge of the Light Brigade'?" Surely everyone must know this one, Erik thought to himself. The women were nearly in tears, the men's faces had gone ashen.

Erik was feeling a bit frustrated, he tried again. "What was Sir Isaac Newton's greatest contribution to the world of science?" Certainly any buffoon would know the answer. He heard Erphan whimpering.

Erik tugged at his cravat. Perhaps this idea of settling the dilemma of who was to ride first, was ill-conceived, but now he'd no choice but to continue. "Who wrote 'Paradise Lost'?" Still the group was silent. He sighed. He would make it easier, nearly giving the answer to them. "In what year did Johann Gutenberg print the first Bible?" Erik looked around expectantly, surely one of these poor souls knew even that. Erik was becoming exasperated. The printing press was the greatest inventions of all time, how one could simply not know that answer, was, well, beyond his comprehension.

He'd pick a most current subject, one that all the enlightened hamlets surely talked about. "What is the name of the first book concerning transcendentalism that Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote?" Now THAT would surely be a simple question. He was certain all hands would be raised. The book was in many of the shops in Paris, in fact, he'd seen one in the mercantile that very afternoon!

The group stood looking at the ground. Erik paced. His idea of educating his staff was no longer a question, but a must. No child of his was….. he stopped himself as he could feel Christine's eyes boring through him.

Erik smiled mischievously; he would try once more. "My dear, do turn away for me would you?" Christine complied. Erik huffed. "Who can tell me the color of Christine's eyes?" Immediately all hands went into the air, they were all murmuring, "brown, they are brown, a little green perhaps, but yes most definitely brown."

Erik broke out into a fit of laughter. His frustration manifesting itself in the twitch of his cheek. He'd much to teach them. He pulled a coin from his pocket and tossed it to Erphan for use in the process of an elimination coin toss. He walked over to join Christine who was taking humor in the situation as well as he. Quite frankly, she'd had every intention of joining her staff in their lessons, for even she did not know all of the answers to the questions he posed!

"My dear, at least a blank slate is a teachable slate!" Christine sighed. "You are right my dear." They watched on in amusement as the group struggled with the coin until one finally stood alone. The gardener was beaming from ear to ear as he triumphantly climbed into the carriage. Erphan brought the coin back to Erik dutifully.

"Sir, what would you like us to do for the next several hours until the carriage returns?" Erik reached in, selecting several bills and handed them to Erphan. "Do see to everyone finding supper. Christine and I shall take care of ourselves." Erik withdrew his pocket watch. Erphan did the same, happy to have one, though it was not as detailed or polished as Erik's. "Let us meet here again at half past five. Then we shall all return together, if possible." Erphan nodded as he returned to the group with the news. They smiled, the woman curtsied. They'd make their way through town, finding something to nibble on.

Erik turned to Christine. "Now my little dove, I've a treat for you." He extended his arm as he led her from the mercantile. He nodded to the shopkeeper, he'd be back on the morrow to settle his account.

**Author's Notes**:

First, lest I be hunted down and flogged, let me present you with the answers to the questions that Erik asked of his humble services staff:

**1**. **What was the first novel ever written by Dickens**? 'The Pickwick Papers' **2.** **Who wrote 'Lady Byron Vindicated'**? Harriet Beecher Stowe. **3**. **Who was Nicole-Reine Lepaute, and what did she discover**? solar eclipse. Lepaute also made predictions for the return of Halley's Comet in 1759. **4**. **Name one member of the Raphaelite Brotherhood**? The Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood began in 1848. The members: Thomas Woolner, William Holman Hunt, James Collinson, John Everett Millais, Michael Rossetti, Frederic George Stephens, Dante Gabriel Rossetti. They did not want to conform to the current style of art, rather preferring a more natural style. They held the artist Raphael with the highest regard, thus adopting the name "Pre-Raphaelites." **5**. **Who wrote 'Charge of the Light Brigade'?** Alfred Lord Tennyson **6.** **What was Sir Isaac Newton's greatest contribution to the world of science**? Newton's contributions to science include: the universal law of gravitation, the development of a new field in mathematics called calculus, and his famous three laws of motion. **7**. **Who wrote 'Paradise Lost'?"** John Milton. **8**. **In what year did Johann Gutenberg print the first Bible**? 1455 **9**. **What was the name of first book concerning transcendentalism that Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote?** 'Nature'

**Side note – why all the crazy questions?** I'd chosen these questions in particular because they were either of current interest in the years that this story covers, or, they were things that would have been readily known by noble society at the time. In order for Erik's character to be able to do some of the things that he did, or know what he knew, these would have easily been part of his knowledge base. The literary references are connected to the depth of music that he wrote, and his general feelings during his years under the Opera House. The reference to transcendentalism is a bit more complex. It was a current new movement in enclaves around the world at the time, and only "enlightened" thinkers were embracing the idea. It plays into what Erik was currently thinking about doing with his staff. Hopefully this explanation will make it easier to understand some of Erik's actions in the coming chapters. He has lived in the past, under an Opera House, but now, out in the real world, he must choose to wallow in his past, or embrace his future, and make the world a better place because he had the courage to live. Hmmmm… now perhaps you can see why the people who are closest to me think I'm a little crazy! I hope this little detour helps explain a few things for chapters to come!

**Captain Oblivious**: Hope you enjoyed your cupcake, and didn't get any on your Dracula DVD, or on Susie! Perhaps you zapped it with your Pauly Shore gun! Dreamy…yes…I feel the same way sometimes when I think of Erik and Christine! Yes, to be that much in love….it sounds entirely wonderful to be in the arms of someone who loved and admired you in the way Erik does his Christine. Someday…maybe we can all be that fortunate! You my dear, have much of life ahead of you, and there is a special someone out there…maybe stuck in a box, wearing a cape……well, somewhere out there anyway (even if it isn't a Gerry-in-a-box!) Hmmm…Harry Potter has been mentioned a number of times by reviewers, I may have to break down and borrow a book from my nephew…I have to say I thought I'd checked under your name and couldn't find anything before, but I shall try again!

**Stellalorelia**: Thank you for sharing my visions of their family! Yes, it would be entirely wonderful to be part of that family. I could just imagine it, as real as life, in my mind as I was typing. Erik in a thick black robe, Christine in a soft white one, four or five happy little children milling about, well spoken and mannered, dark brown curls, big blue or brown eyes, and a couple, even more in love than the day they became husband and wife! Ahhhh I've just lost myself again in a day-dream! I think sometimes people may question my sanity when I talk about them as though they were living-breathing people! Yes, there is so much to happen in all the relationships that are brewing…one just never knows what will happen next! In this story one is neither too young nor too old to fall in love!

**Diveprincess**: Oh my goodness Kiki…I am so glad you are alive too! The world would have been a little darker place without you in it! That sounds exciting to go hiking, but dangerous…I think I'll stick to walking on paved sidewalks and doing Pilates! It is fun to have a friend to do things with, now let's hope James is a true-blue friend and helps keep you occupied as you recuperate! In the meantime, I hope that you have many pleasant distractions that keep you from dwelling on your pain, though I doubt it is ever far from your mind. By the way, my friend's name is Terra, she does love the ocean….I'll remind her of your wise quote from Walt Disney. It might be even more meaningful since she marveled at his dream when she was in Disney World over Spring Break this past spring! Chicago! That is a wonderful city, I've been there a number of times, sometimes on business, sometimes for the pure pleasure of the city…they do have the best deep-dish pizza there. The pizzeria I visited when I was there last, I cannot recall the name, but it will stick in my mind forever…they gave us pens to write on the walls…it took us nearly an hour and a half to read everything in the area around us, and then finally to find a place to write a little something of our own. I also LOVE the 'million-dollar-mile'. I've walked that stretch of the road many times at night just marveling at the beauty of Chicago. There is something about that stretch of road, as it crosses the water, that reminds me of Paris….anyway, I love the your city!

I do hope that you have your choice of schools to go to when you are done with your senior year! They all sound like excellent choices! I'm sure you'll be sent just where you belong, and will have a happy future ahead of you! Now, concentrate on getting better…let me know if you need another cupcake!

**Poetzproblem**: Thank you for the compliment. A hundred chapters, it just doesn't seem possible does it! The last one was a bit long, but it had to be a little out of the ordinary! Yes, I do like over-thinkers…I affectionately call them "deep-thinkers" because I am one myself. In fact, you may relate to this… you're talking to someone about a subject…say a book…and you go into the depth of a character…or a movie….and you talk about the hidden plot….or a part of history….or anything else, and all the sudden you feel yourself getting excited about it only to look over at the person who you are talking to and they have a blank or frightened look on their face…and your realize you've totally lost them…. Yeh….I get that a lot. Anyway, keep using that brain of yours, we always lose what we don't exercise…

I'm happy that you are enjoying Raoul and Meg with me. I do tend to dwell a little on the intensity when a relationship is first blooming because without a good foundation, any further developments aren't very believable. My own opinion of course. So, there will be a bit more for them….before things get really interesting…. Wrote one? Do tell us more…

**Hopelesslyobsessed**: Tell your friends they'll have to get used to you in this frame of mind! I've been floating on this cloud for over five months now, and there is no sign of it letting up anytime soon! I think once you've been bitten (pardon the pun if you are a Dracula fan) you simply cannot become "unaddicted" it just doesn't happen. It becomes like a love affair that you may stray from, but you keep coming back for more! Well, on to your questions Nadir was referring to Raoul and Erik being brothers, not their fathers although that would have been an interesting twist….but you've beat me to it! The question about Raoul finding out about Erik and Christine….that I simply cannot answer for it would ruin the end of the story….alas….a writer has to have but a few secrets! Yes, I am happy for Raoul too. He deserves to be happy. Just because he wanted to deprive our beloved Phantom of Christine, that didn't make him a bad man. Even kings of great nations have gone to battle over a beautiful woman….that didn't make them bad after all. We all want what we want, even if someone else wants the same thing, we don't want it less…darn…now I've got myself all confused! So yes, Raoul is not, in my opinion, a man on the loose looking for a good time…he wants to be loved, just as Erik is now loved by Christine! Hope you enjoyed chapter 101!

**Icherisherik**: Welcome to the family! Ah, another name that I can understand perfectly….I rather cherish him myself…the cape…the mask….the mystique…oh my. He is a wonderful character. Dark, handsome, and in general, something every woman (who has a pulse) would want.

I am bowing humbly now at your most kind and generous review. I am always glad to hear if I've made someone smile, giddy is more than I could have hoped for! I too like Erik and Christine together, they are to me, the epitome of true love….and it only gets better with time. That is the beauty of writing, you can make the characters be whatever you want them to be, and I for one, choose love! I admire you, it is quite the undertaking to read this story over such a short period of time. I do, from time to time, go back and read a few of the chapters myself, whenever I'm feeling blue, I've a few that I really liked such as their wedding night, the night they were first reunited after Erik woke up, when she told him of her pregnancy, the night at the Candlelight Inn…..o.k., maybe a few more than a few. Anyway, at some point in the future, I intend to take a day off from my crazy life and sit down and read it from start to finish, if it can be done. Someday, we might have a time where everyone gets to tell what their favorite chapter is so far…just a thought. Now I've rambled on…I would just like to say welcome again, and I hope your stay with your new little Phantomfamily is a long, and in your case, giddy one!


	102. Nothing is as it seems

**Chapter 102 Nothing is as it seems**

Meg and Raoul spent the afternoon wandering through the greenhouse, then on to the shore by the tiny pond beyond the tree line. "That's odd," Raoul said, looking down at a small pile of wood that was stacked neatly under a tree. He walked a few steps more, and found what appeared to be matted grass, where someone might have slept.

"What is it Raoul?" Meg said, catching up with him. She had tarried briefly along the fence line, smelling the few wild flowers that had just blossomed.

"Nothing, I just don't remember seeing that dead tree before." Raoul was pointing across the pond at a tree that he knew had been felled by a storm in the latter part of winter. Hoping to distract Meg's attention from their present surroundings.

Raoul pulled Meg close to him, embracing her. "I am so glad you do not mind staying here with me Meg." She was surprised by his sudden display of affection. He'd not wanted to startle her with his real purpose. His eyes were hungrily scanning the nearby woods, the shrubbery, and tall grasses. Someone had slept on that grass the night before, and there was no way of knowing if that someone was still lurking about.

While he saw nothing, he decided that it was time to take Meg back up to the house. Perhaps he'd entertain her with stories or some indoor activity. Indoor, of course, as far away from her room as possible. "Come Meg, let us go. It grows rather warm, and I dare say those clouds look like it could storm."

Meg looked up at the white wisps in the sky. They didn't look like storm clouds to her but, if Raoul wanted to go indoors, she'd not object. Raoul extended his arm to Meg, which she took eagerly. They moved quickly up the gardens and back to the terrace behind the house.

Madeline met them at the door. "Vicomte, not ready, spend time in garden?" Madeline looked pleadingly at him. "No Madeline, I'd rather think we shall retire to the library. Please do bring us a pot of tea would you?"

Madeline breathed a sigh of relief. Though Meg would be able to hear all of the scuffing and scrapings, she'd not be able to see anything that was going on as long as Raoul kept the doors to the library closed.

"Yes Vicomte." She smiled, "more cookies?" Raoul flashed a look at Meg who was smiling slightly. She'd not eaten breakfast, had barely chased her lunch around on her plate. He smiled at Meg, never letting his eyes leave her, he said, "yes Maddy, just a few."

As Madeline moved back inside, holding the door open with one hand, while shutting the door to the hallway with the other, Raoul helped Meg inside. He stood scanning the back lawn briefly. He'd not have Meg back out there again, unless he was armed.

He glanced over at two of the stableman who were leaning against the fencing, no doubt taking a break from their work. He turned back to Meg, and nodded at Madeline. "Madeline, if you would be so kind, please see Miss Meg into the library. I'm needing to discuss something briefly with the stable master."

Madeline took Meg by the hand and led her off inside the house. Raoul walked swiftly to the stables, right into the offices of the stable master. Raoul seldom paid an unannounced visit, so the man knew it must be urgent.

"Vicomte?" he said as Raoul entered. "Sir, do sit." Raoul motioned for the man to take his place behind his desk. Raoul paced the floor. "Your charges have done excellent work today sir, the room is now empty, as I'd requested."

The man began "why thank you Vicomte, it was our pleasure to…" Raoul interrupted, which was not his fashion. "Good sir, I know your men have not rested, nor likely had their noon meal due to their efforts. Under normal circumstances I'd not want to impose on a man's lunch. However, I've made a rather unsettling discovery down by the pond. It is very likely nothing, and perhaps simply the workings of one of our stable hands, but I would be a inattentive host if I'd not have you look into it for me.

"Vicomte?" "There is a place, just down by the Northern side of the pond, just where that towering oak grows, you know the one, it has.." "Yes, yes, I know the place of which you speak Vicomte," the man said.

"I found evidence of someone having slept there, not hours ago as the grass was dry, the twigs and weeds bent down as if they'd been laid upon for many hours. No doubt it will turn out to be a hidden napping post of one of our young stable boys, but we must be certain." Raoul looked at him with a sincere deep concern.

"Vicomte, likely it was an animal, perhaps a deer, the woods are full this time of year." Raoul shook his head. "Deer do not gather and bundle wood for a fire sir." The man's eyes grew, raising his eyebrows. "I see, well then, we shall have the men ready within the half-hour. We shall search the woods and to the very ends of the property. If we find nothing, perhaps we should post guards around the house proper at night just in case.."

Raoul interrupted. "I shan't want to frighten my guests. Let us first inquire of the staff, then we shall search the woods." Raoul was still pacing. "I should like a full report before the dinner hour sir." The man stood, "I shall see to it straightaway Vicomte." Raoul thanked him and walked back toward the house, where Meg awaited him.

XXX

Madame Giry had never had so many hands helping her. It was so strange to be back in Paris. Though their party was the only one in the shops that they traveled in and out of with lightening like speed, it seemed so strange to be suddenly thrust back into this life so abruptly. She dared say it was like a breath of fresh air, but entirely overwhelming.

The maids were darting in and out as she'd given them assignments. They'd been through the dressmakers, the shoemakers, the jewelers, the silk shops, the upholstery shops, the furniture maker. Madame Giry had never beheld so many fine things, and that was perhaps as much because she avoided coveting that which she could not afford, so she'd not looked in many of the shops she now traveled through this afternoon.

Madame Giry had yet to catch up with the woman, but there was obviously someone who was directing the staff as to where they were going next, and what to do with what Madame Giry was selecting. She could see the woman from a distance, but each time she'd get close to her, the woman seemed to disappear. Madame Giry only wanted to extend her appreciation, yet she felt that the woman was purposely avoiding her.

Finally, she could take it no longer. She latched onto the first one of Raoul's staff that she could find. "Who is that woman, that woman there," she was pointing to her as she disappeared yet again.

The woman stared at her, "you do not know her?" The woman asked Madame Giry. "No Madame, that is why I am asking you!" Madame Giry had no intentions of sounding sarcastic or insulting, it was her impatience after hours of shopping that had her a bit on edge.

The woman smiled at her, "that is the Vicomte's sister, she's come to help you, but Raoul instructed her to give you the freedom to make your own choices." "Ah, I see," said Madame Giry. She wanted to thank the woman, but didn't want to interfere with the plans that Raoul had so painstakingly made. Perhaps another time would be more appropriate.

"Very well." She said, thanking the woman. Just then a rush of several others found her, asking questions about textures and colors, fabric weights, and how plump the chairs should be. It was a daunting task to undertake this all in one day, but there was really no other way around it. It was an idea that was long overdue as far as Raoul was concerned.

There was a full carriage by the time the afternoon was out, and several delivery carriages had departed for the outskirts of Paris. Madame Giry could not allow herself to think of the funds that were being spent, or what would become of the fine things that had been replaced, but it was at her host's bidding that she do so. His sentiment had been heartfelt, and though it was difficult for Madame Giry to do, she'd done that which he asked of her.

A woman appeared, taking the coffee cup from Madame Giry, and leading her over to a small table where a bit of sweets had been set out. There were two plates, two dainty napkins and two cups of tea.

The woman offered her a chair which Madame Giry took gratefully. As a ballet mistress, she was quite accustomed to hours on her feet, but then she was in her ballet shoes, not the uncomfortable formal shoes she now donned.

"Ah, Madame Giry," came a sweet voice. "Allow me to introduce myself," Madame Giry stood turning around. A beautiful young woman, all of twenty-five stood before her. Looking into her eyes, she could see the likeness.

"Yes, it is a pleasure to meet you, your brother speaks fondly of you." The young woman flashed her an inquisitive glance. "I am sorry, I'd noticed you earlier and quite insisted that one of Raoul's staff tell me of your identity."

"Madame Giry, it is my pleasure to meet you." She motioned for her to sit, as she nodded and the staff left the two alone. "When I was a little girl, I rather dreamed of being a ballerina. In fact it may surprise you to know that I've admired your work since I was but a small girl, I'd rather dreamed of being your pupil!"

Madame Giry blushed at the compliment. "And you decided not to pursue it?" The woman laughed politely. "Truly, my father frowned upon it, insisting that I was too frail, and too clumsy to become a prima ballerina, and if one could not be a prima, what use was there of pursuing the dream!"

Madame Giry winced, she'd often wondered why some young girls who looked so longingly at the stage during the ballets, never went on to become students. In this case, she assumed the social classes were not to be mixed. That was more likely the true reason, though perhaps this young woman was too terribly polite to say so.

"The beauty of the costumes, the fluid motions, the heart breaking stories, played out through movement and music, it makes love more like love, and tragedy more tragic." Madame Giry could see the twinkle in her eyes, no doubt this young lady was something of an aficionado, truly loving ballet at heart.

"I agree, ballet is a special expression of thought…its much like art from the soul." Madame Giry said. Raoul's sister smiled at her nodding in agreement. "It is precisely why I dreamed of being a ballerina!"

She shook her head as she took note that the last of the items were being loaded into the awaiting carriages. "Raoul wanted me to make certain that you'd found everything for Meg that you think she might require. He asked that I come along to help, but also to be certain that you weren't being too stringent with your purchases."

Truly she had withheld a few things that Meg may have enjoyed, but she was not greedy, nor was Meg. Secretly Raoul's sister had observed her actions, and added those items back in, they would be a little surprise for both of them when the items were unpacked.

"Did the furniture maker say when they might deliver the items that you chose?" Madame Giry nodded. He has one in his workshop, and will sand and finish it this evening. By Monday afternoon it will be on the way to your brother's house."

Raoul's sister smiled at her, "and the dressmaker?" Madame Giry said, "tomorrow as well. I brought one of Meg's dresses with me so that they would have exact measurements. The woman said she'd be up all night seeing to the necessary alterations to the garments that we selected. The woman insisted that Raoul had requested that there be ten of them. I dare say Meg has never owned that many gowns at one time in her entire life!"

Raoul's sister smiled, "it is something that she best become quickly accustomed to. Raoul will see to it that she has twice that many in the next few months."

Madame Giry swallowed hard. Obviously Raoul and his sister had talked a little about this. "May I ask you, being his sister, and pray do tell me if I am being too forward…..do you think that Raoul is truly ready to love again?" Madame Giry almost hoped that the answer would be no, for things would decidedly be less complicated.

"I asked Raoul that very thing not a week ago when Meg was visiting in Paris. Much has changed in the last week, and I dare say I have seen an entirely new side of my brother. Do not worry Madame Giry, Raoul is a good man, an honorable man. Meg will not be harmed or pressured under his roof. I've spent considerable time in the company of the two of them during Meg's visits to Paris, and I dare say I thought I'd seen a spark between them the visit before last. They get on better than some married couples that I know!" She smiled at Madame Giry. "They share interests, and are both attentive with one another. Now, if I may be so forward as to say, there is something that seems entirely natural about them when they are in each others company. She is a sweet creature, your daughter, and I've no doubt that Raoul's intentions are pure, his feelings toward her true."

Madame Giry stood, eagerly embracing the woman whom she'd just met. If indeed Raoul's intentions were true, and someday Meg would be part of this family, Meg would certainly be fortunate to have such a kind sister-in-law.

The coachman was at the door, ready to escort her to the Opera Populaire. Raoul's father waited for her there. The staff came in to inform him of the arrangements that Raoul had made for Madame Giry's return.

"I will see you again very soon Madame Giry. Raoul hopes that Meg will be feeling well enough to come into the City within a few weeks. If I do not see you then, I will see you when my husband and I come to Raoul's for dinner the last Sunday of the month. It is something of a ritual." Raoul's sister reached out touching Madame Giry's shoulder. "You have a wonderful daughter Madame, and I've always longed for a younger sister!" She smiled as the coachman escorted Madame Giry to the awaiting carriage.

Madame Giry noticed she was in a much smaller carriage than she had been earlier. This one was suitable for two people, four at most. Its seats were of fine leather, the interior smelled of sweet cigars. No doubt this was Raoul's father's private carriage. This would be an interesting ride indeed!

XXXX

The senior De Chagny had written several letters of inquiry, getting them ready for the morning post. He'd finalized some of the last plans for the entrances, and carriage house. He pushed himself away from the desk, extinguishing the lamp and making his way out of the offices. His footsteps echoed in the large auditorium where all of the seats were yet to be affixed. He could nearly see the great productions that would be observed here. The gala would bring royalty from all over Europe, and that would give him the opportunity to brush shoulders with some of the men that he truly admired.

As he arrived at the front door, the carriage was just approaching. It came to a stop. The coachman quickly dismounting and opening the door for him. "Good evening Madame Giry," came his voice as the door closed behind him, and the carriage lurched forward, back to Raoul's house.

XXX

Erik and Christine had just finished their dinner. "That was entirely lovely Erik, I've not had poached salmon in ages!" Erik smiled at her, he had rather preferred it himself.

"This was the very first place that I'd visited when I was here in Chauesser. Each time that I'd visited, I'd stop in for a very late dinner, or a nightcap."

Christine was eyeing the cart full of desserts that were being wheeled toward her. Erik caught the look in her eye. "Erik, would you…" "Now my dear, you are entirely capable of ordering and consuming a dessert all on your own." He said playfully. Christine smiled at Erik, he was truly mocking her.

"My dear husband, I was simply going to ask if you would like one, and, which one you think your son might enjoy!" Erik laughed as the cart stopped at their table.

"Madame, Monsieur?" The polite Frenchwoman nodded to the desserts. "Hmmmm, let me see." Erik lifted several, looking at them as though they were fine pieces of jewelry, and then setting them back down again. As he went to lift the plates the third time, Christine cleared her throat. Erik grinned at her, he was toying with her.

She smiled politely at the woman, and reached out snatching the Viennese walnut torte from Erik's hand. Then she looked down and selected a chocolate layer cake with a warm caramel drizzle. She nodded at the young woman. The woman was trying to suppress a smile, as she noticed Erik grinning at Christine. "Coffee?" Erik nodded.

She pushed the cart away from the table, nodding at the gentleman who'd been taking care of Erik and Christine during their meal. He quickly appeared at the table, silver coffee service in his hand. Erik and Christine sat silently as he filled the cups and walked back behind the swinging door.

"Now Erik, really, that poor woman was…" Christine grew quiet as she looked at Erik, who'd selected the walnut torte, and was now extending a small bit of it on his fork. "My dear…"

Christine leaned forward allowing Erik to slip the fork between her lips. The sugary frosting greeting her tongue as the rich layers of walnuts and spices made her taste buds come to life. Erik smiled at Christine as she closed her eyes enjoying the flavors. He took a bite for himself.

Christine opened her eyes to see Erik sipping on his coffee, the steam rising from the cup swirling around his forehead. They'd spent so much time together, and yet sometimes it struck Christine, as though for the first time, how much she truly loved this man. His face was transforming, a fully handsome man was emerging, but it was what was beneath that skin that Christine truly loved. Though she'd hardly admitted to herself that seeing him in motion without the mask, was truly captivating.

"What is it my dear?" Erik said smiling at her as he took another bite of the torte. Christine placed her fork on her plate and reached out her hand for Erik's. "I often feel at a loss for words when I look at you. Sometimes, like just the moment before this, I feel captivated by your presence."

Erik had not expected that response. He'd thought Christine was simply delighting in the sweetness of the cake. "Christine, you make me blush with such flattery."

Christine smiled at him looking down, and then up again deep into his eyes. "Erik, time stands still when I am with you. You were and are so much more than any woman could ever hope for in a husband."

Erik knew Christine's words were sincere, though it made him blush profusely to hear her utter them audibly to him. When he'd been below the Opera House, the world had been predictable. He'd always envisioned the two of them living there, occasionally venturing out after dark, or stealing away to one of the houses he owned far from Paris. Those thoughts had persisted, been rehearsed, were familiar.

Now, he was out in a different sort of world, one he'd not chosen to live…one that he'd found himself in quite by default because of decisions that had been made without his knowledge or consent. Ever since he'd first become aware of it, he'd felt this inner struggle, this turmoil of relinquishing control to life in this foreign world. Yes, he still had pangs to be back in his mask, wielding his power through fear and illusion, but they were becoming less and less frequent.

Tonight, as he sat across from this most precious creature, one who truly loved him, he could imagine no greater joy than to be living the life that now lay ahead of them. He was her husband, and in not many months would welcome into the world a child that was in part him, and in part her.

Though this new life was not completely yet his own, he would learn to settle into a quiet existence with Christine and their little family, far from Paris. Exactly how they would maintain contact with Meg and Madame Giry, he wasn't certain. He thought back to a comment that Christine had made months ago about the lot of them being parted by marriage or death….perhaps it would be the distance that parted them. He could only hope that they would find a way to keep connected, for they were not by blood or by law, but certainly by heart, his family.

"Erik?" Christine was gently caressing his hand in hers. "Have I said something wrong?" Her smile had turned to a look of concern. Erik raised his eyes to meet hers. "No…." She gave him a loving smile. "Then what is it my dear?" she said running her thumb along the palm of his hand, making Erik shiver.

"In all of my life Christine, I've never known anyone who moved me as you do. Not just as your husband….but our souls….they feel as though…."

Christine smiled, perhaps it was the child that grew within her that made her feel more joined to him now than she had ever been. How she wished she could put it into words. "Erik, do you remember…that night in front of my father's grave…when we exchanged our vows…." Erik smiled, it was a moment he'd visited often in his mind. He nodded. "Then the two shall become as one…" she said.

Erik squeezed her hand. "Yes, I remember it…it is…" Erik paused, caught off guard by his own rising emotions. Christine squeezed his hand in return. "It is simply different to feel the words….. feel it happening within you."

Christine stood, putting her napkin on her chair and went to Erik's side. She ignored proper manners, for in that room, that time and place, no one else existed. She bent down and slipped her arms around Erik's neck, until their eyes met. "I love you….." she said as she kissed him tenderly on his trembling lips.

Erik could do nothing but accept the love that she offered him. Inch by inch, she was tugging at him…pulling him from his self-imposed cocoon. Though he'd emerged from time-to-time, each time a bit longer than the last, he was not yet ready to fly. But she was there, her kindness, her love, as a certain as a cooling gentle breeze…drying his wings.

The moment was brought to an abrupt end when they heard a loud pounding on the glass window not far from where they sat. Erik whirled around in his chair, his instincts would likely never dim. There, in the darkening of the Spring sky, stood the old woman that Erik had seen the night before. She was waving at him, smiling a big toothy grin. They could tell she was saying something, though they could not hear her. Christine looked amusedly at Erik. "I think she's saying you're handsome!" She chuckled as she smoothed her hand over Erik's back.

His face had turned to stone. Though they'd not been able to hear her, Erik's keen eyes brought back the memories of a skill he'd not used in years. He blinked, on the woman's lips he distinctly read "De Chagny, De Chagny!"

Erik stood, his heart was now pounding. "Christine, we must go." "But Erik, we've not even finished our dessert.." her gentle protests quickly forgotten as she saw the horror on Erik's face. He leaned down whispering in her ear, "I'm quite afraid we might have been discovered." Christine felt faint…they were so far from Paris….how could that be?

Erik made his way quickly to the front of the room, handing the man a bundle of bills, "do see that the bill is taken care of good sir, my wife is feeling ill just now." The man nodded, their expedient departure making sense then to all that overheard.

Erik and Christine were at once in the street. Erik's eyes darting back and forth as they ducked into alley's traveling as swiftly as he could back toward the mercantile where the carriage should be returning soon to collect them. He saw no presence of law, no indication that guards were posted, or that anyone was searching. The village looked the same as it had hours before, calm, serene.

Erik's heart was thumping so heard beneath his breastbone, that he'd not be surprised if there was a bruise there upon inspection. He'd not been that afraid…since…they were at the Candlelight Inn.

Somewhere along the line Erik had scooped Christine into his arms and carried her along under his cloak. They'd not exchanged so much as a word as he'd swiftly moved through the city to the back of the mercantile. They ducked into the alcove behind the shop, Erik carefully sitting Christine down on an overturned crate. He was stooped over, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He'd felt so safe here, he'd begun to let his guard down…how had they been found?

Christine sat quietly, nervously fiddling with her skirt. Erik stood, the night air had begun to cool, a damp chill had set in. He removed his cloak and walked over to Christine, slipping it around her shoulders. He stood again, ears tuned to the sounds in the streets, though there was none. Erik stood protectively next to Christine for a few minutes until his breathing calmed.

Christine tilted her head up toward Erik and was about to inquire, the idea quickly retreating as Erik raised his finger to his lips. Slowly Erik reached inside his jacket, retrieving the pistol that he carried with him everywhere since Sara had been murdered.

Christine shuddered, she felt warm, a flash of white light before her eyes yet again, she swayed. Erik looked over his shoulder, rushing back to her side thinking she'd fainted from the fright.

Christine was lost in it. She was walking down a road…she could see a young woman running toward her from a distance…she was smiling…waving her hand….Christine saw herself hidden behind a wall, peering out, and realized the person moving in her dream was not her, but Erik. As she watched she sensed no fear….there was an aura of sadness about it, but no fear….she could hear the girl's voice call out to Erik… "Sir, sir…please let me explain…"

The lights flashed in Christine's eyes and she was at once back behind the mercantile in Erik's arms. She blinked looking up into the horror of Erik's wide eyes. She said "you must go to her…" Erik flinched, looking around, "go to who my dear?" Christine looked at him quite puzzled, still feeling a bit foggy. "The girl, the one in the street….she means us no harm…go to her….she has something to tell you….something you must know…."

Christine looked up at Erik. In all the years she'd known him she'd never beheld his eyes with such confusion, it was a mixture of fear and something else, she couldn't quite describe.

He pulled her close to him, holding her as though for the first and last time in his life. His ears perked up. He could hear the trampling of footsteps…a single set of dainty footsteps. "Sir, sir?" He could hear a gentle voice calling.

Christine looked up at him, feeling a bit more clear, "Erik…go to her." He closed his eyes. He wanted to wish this curse away from Christine, remove it as surely as one removed a thorn from one's flesh, but he knew he could not. "ERIK, go to her….I shall be alright here."

Erik kissed her tenderly on the cheek, leaning her against the post behind the crate. He pulled his cloak tightly around her. "My dear, if you should hear…." Christine reached out and touched his hand. "Erik, it is alright, go to her…she has something to tell you." Erik nodded just once, and turned walking down the alley and toward the street where he could hear the footsteps.

**Author's notes:**

**Captain Oblivious**: Now one should not feel bad for not knowing the answers at all! It takes time, and interest in this sort of thing to acquire that sort of knowledge! That is why I provided the answers, I rather assumed most might not know them. It is really

Erik's level of intelligence that I was trying to establish, not my own, lest anyone think I am a "know-it-all" for alas, there are many areas that I am utterly uneducated in. Erik is smart, much smarter than perhaps we even knew before, and that is important for us to understand because….because…..oh I just cannot say, lest I spoil everything!

Good to hear Susie came out o.k. at the "doctor". Yes hard work is always more worth it when we are working towards something…even if it makes our feet hurt!

Oh, your critique of the movie 'Starship Troopers', I cannot say that I've seen it, but with your wonderful review, I shall make certain that it is crossed off any proverbial lists that I might have. I do delve into Sci-Fi once in a great while, perhaps only because I like to see how authors "stretch the box" with their ideas. Our imagination is among the greatest gifts we have, and I dare say some definitely stretch theirs to the outer limits! Let's see, if I were to pick the "dumbest" movie I've ever seen….that would be a hard one, I've see literally thousands. Perhaps it would be, no pun intended, when I was forced against my will to watch "Dumb and Dumber". If ever there was a waste of two hours of my life, that would likely be it. Too bad it made so much money at the box office and helped to solidify the career of one of the biggest stars in Hollywood!

Hope you and Susie have a good day. Perhaps you should take her to a "drive-in" movie, if they have one in your area. She'd probably like that, and hey, most drive-ins have a two for one feature. Though do be careful when you get your popcorn and hotdogs, Susie probably wouldn't appreciate getting ketchup and butter all over her pretty interior!

Hope you enjoy chapter 102!

**Diveprincess**: I'm glad to hear that I made you smile. Everyone deserves a good smile at least once each day! Oh yes, it was Gino's, thank you for telling me. I tend to fret over silly little things like that when I cannot remember them. I do specifically remember the pizza and the ambiance though, both were entirely wonderful! Darn, now I've made myself hungry for that pizza! The only place that had pizza even close to that was a small pizzeria in Washington D.C. Great pizza, but VERY expensive. It ought to have been too, it had two pounds of mozzarella on top of twenty slices of Canadian Bacon….mmmmm. I've got to stop or I'll drive myself mad! Anyway, I hope you enjoy the next chapters. You can probably tell I have a small fascination with food. The way it smells, looks, tastes….alas, yet another one of my weaknesses. It is a good thing I can enjoy thinking about food nearly as much as eating it, or I would be in serious trouble! Now that you are in a position to spend much time relaxing, I'm sure your memories of all the dives you've been on will keep you great company. Sometimes just envisioning things we've done, or want to do, helps us get through the rough spots. As for me, I imagine a good book, a hot cup of espresso, and a slice of that chocolate cake that Christine was eating…I think I've just made myself hungry all over again! Your thoughts might be of a wonderful dive along the Great Barrier Reef, schools of fish you've never seen before floating by….

**Icherisherik**: Thank you for the compliment. I'm not sure if you read the response that I give to other reviewers, but if you do, this might seem a bit redundant. You should not feel bad for not knowing the answers at all! It takes time, and interest in this sort of thing to acquire that sort of knowledge! That is why I provided the answers. It is really

Erik's level of intelligence that I was trying to get at, not my own. There are many areas that I am utterly uneducated in. Erik is smart, much smarter than perhaps we even knew. That will be important to know for the near future. O.K. now, as for that essay you've been putting off….you should get to it….I don't want to feel responsible for distracting one of our Phantomfamily from their education!

**Darkmoonlightbright**: Yes, another professed night-owl! I do like the night best, everything just seems to be so much more intense when it is dark outside. I think it probably says something about what personality type we are, and I'm not sure that it is very complimentary! If I could select my perfect sleeping schedule it would be from four in the morning until ten-thirty. However, I have to be at work by eight, so it doesn't really work all that well. I usually go to bed around one or one thirty and have to be up around five-thirty or six at the latest. No wonder I need my coffee in the morning! If you prefer long nights, you should start saving up to visit Alaska…it is an eerie thing when they have their many days of darkness in a row. It's hard to think of it being one in the afternoon when it's so black outside that you cannot see your hand in front of you! It is a fun detour from the normal world though if you like that sort of thing….which I do! I think if Erik could have visited Alaska, he'd have loved it don't you? Now, back to the story. I cannot tell you when the baby will arrive…(pardon the pun) it will arrive in due time! Yes, I prefer the relationship of Erik and Christine, in fact over any other that I can think of. I'm happy for Meg and Raoul too, Nadir and Madame Giry…but my heart-of-hearts, belongs to E & C! Do not feel dumb for not knowing the answers…no one is dumb if they do not know what they've never been exposed to…we are simply uniformed intelligent people….so, hold up that chin, you're smarter than you're giving yourself credit for!

**Phantomluvr**: Thank you for reassuring me that I wasn't being too tedious! One worries about that sort of thing. Yes, ERIK, expected his staff to know all of this. In part this was done to show how unrealistic Erik could be at times, and how he was somewhat out of touch with reality. He had all those years of solitude to read, to study, to dwell on every subject he studied. No one out in the real world had that sort of time to be that focused. So, in spite of all the things that Erik seems to be adjusting quite well too, he needs to learn more about the nature of the humans he will be living with from their point of reference. He looks good on the outside, but it's the inner struggles that will prove to be the most difficult to overcome as time goes on. Now, if you are a freshman in high school, and even know of Gutenberg, Newton's laws of gravity, and have struggled in the world of quadratic equations, consider yourself a bright young woman! I know several people who are twice your age that would think Gutenberg was a German plane, Newton's law of gravity was what happened when they dropped their fig-filled cookie, and quadratics would have something to do with swimming! Calculus is not as much fun as other things I agree, but I'm thankful that there are people out there, far smarter than I, that understand them! For if there weren't, we'd not have a man on the moon, a suspension bridge, or be able to understand the mysteries of cold fusion!

**Poetzproblem**: I'm happy to hear you could relate. Us "crazies" are kindred spirits, and no one fully appreciates us, except those who are of like-minds! Thank you for your compliment on the story. I have no doubt that yours is wonderful. Now if I can, I will try to find it and see, but something tells me it will be entirely enjoyable! I hope you enjoy chapter 102…although it did contain a cliffie that I know you are so terribly fond of! I promise, I shall be much kinder with what I post on Friday…I hope it will be "cliffie-free." But one truly never knows where the wind will blow!

**Hoplesslyobsessed**: Oh you are too funny. I am obsessed, but I've not gone to the lengths you have my dear! O.k., you are most deserving of your tag name. (bows elegantly!) If you are on the hunt for every movie…don't spend the money or time hunting down the British film, 'Jury'. I finally got mine, after ordering it (very pricey too). Aside from Gerard, there isn't too much you'd probably want to see on the three DVDs. I have now: POTO, Attila, Timeline, Jury, Dear Frankie, Dracula 2000, and another one I cannot think of right now. He is by far the one I have the most movies of….hence…why my family and friends think I'm obsessed! I do have a few printed pictures, but no magnets! I'd like the rose and ribbon thing, but I think they'd be calling the little white wagon to come and pick me up. My sister thinks I'm nuts because I want to go to Scotland just to see where he grew up! O.k., enough about our dear, dear, Gerry.

I've rather enjoyed Erphan myself! Can't you just see him acting that way? I cannot tell you how long the story will go, but simply to say it will end when t here is nothing left a mystery…..how's that for a cruel answer?

I've seen Phantom on stage a few times, the movie, I'd say it was ten times in the theater, and over a hundred since I've owned it….I guess that's a bit of an obsession isn't it. I am strange though, I do not watch any TV, not even a little….my couch time is spent only on movies, and then, only the ones worth watching more than once. I hope you like this last chapter…unfortunately, it leaves only more questions to answer…..

Oh, one more note, my sister and several friends thought I was crazy until they watched the movie, suddenly, I'm not soooo crazy after all! We are truly spreading the insanity around the globe..poor Gerry….soon he won't be able to go anywhere without a mob chasing him down!


	103. As the Sun Goes Down

Chapter 103 As the sun goes down 

Nadir was impatient. They'd stopped only briefly at the Candlelight Inn, he'd not even stayed long enough to have a proper tea. The horses were fed, watered, and rested all within an hour. He wanted to make his way to the winter house before the full darkness of night fell. Through all the fidgeting and worry, he'd nearly driven himself sick. Now, they were but a half-hour's ride.

The sun was setting, a blood-orange red. The night sky something more like one sees in the fall rather than spring, an oddity indeed Nadir thought to himself. He mulled over and over again in his mind all that De Chagny had told him. How in heaven's name could he ever search each small hamlet, village, and town that was at least a number of hours away from Paris? The task seemed utterly daunting.

Yes, he and Meg were most anxious. No doubt their impatience would be the cause of a great many headaches and sleepless nights. But for the rest of the world, this situation had no timetable, for they knew not that it even existed.

Nadir sighed, leaning back for the thousandth time this trip alone, trying to calm himself. He'd draw out a map. Find towns that were too small to have ever supported an Inn. Then he would begin crossing off villages that were at least…. His shoulders slumped…if only he'd mentioned the name of the village…if there was but only some way to encourage him to speak of it again…though he doubted the opportunity would present itself.

Sighing yet again he tried to relax, he had to relax. There was much to be done when the sun came up in the morning, and he'd be no good for any of it if he didn't rest. He'd head to the undertaker first thing, then he'd be off to Paris. He'd contact the registrar to find where her husband had been buried….Nadir grumbled to himself. He wasn't as young a man as he used to be, he'd best make a list, lest he forget something important, like taking Sara back with him!

He dug in his pocket retrieving a piece of paper and a writing instrument. Taking out his spectacles and slipping them on, he realized it was far too dark to see to write legibly. He returned his glasses to his pocket, and was folding the paper when he realized that one sheet did not belong with the others. Then it hit him, it was one of the papers that he'd collected of Meg's. Somehow he'd missed returning that one. "Must have been separated from the others." He muttered to himself.

He hesitantly folded it and began slipping it back into his pocket, when his curiosity got the best of him. In one impetuous moment, he'd taken leave of his good senses, opening the page. Holding it up in the failing light he marveled at her beautiful penmanship, and then tears formed as he read these words:

"_If Erik is Raoul's brother, and one day I wed Raoul, then we shall all be one large family. Christine would finally be the sister that I'd always dreamed she was. There is so much that would be necessary to take place before any sort of reconciliation…if even one could occur. If this proves to be true, we'd likely not be one happy family. Raoul's father would have to admit to the errors of his past, whatever those were that left Erik quite without a mother, and quite alone in the world at a very tender age. He's a proud and awful man, and even faced with his very likeness in Erik, would not be likely to believe it to be true. The scandal, it would surely break everyone's heart. Is the greater good, should I find out the truth, and it is as we suspect, is the greater good not saying anything at all, and letting the secret die? _

_I shall talk to Nadir, dear sweet Nadir. Mother's become rather fond of him. She smiles when his name is mentioned, though she denies it. They banter back and forth, it is rather sweet. I've respected Nadir, the way he stepped in and took care of Erik's household while Erik sleeps. I've no doubt their friendship runs deep, much deeper than most, I can tell in the way he guards Erik's secrets with fierce loyalty. I've become rather fond of Nadir myself, he feels a bit like a father to me in recent months. It will be he and only he that I entrust with this secret, for surely if anyone can help put the pieces of this puzzle together, it would be him. Only he knows of Erik's past and present. I pray to heaven that he wakes soon, Christine is going quite mad. The love she feels for him is almost like a fairytale, almost too intense and sincere to be true, but love him she does, and I only hope that one day, I shall find myself as devoted to a man as she._

Nadir was grateful that the page was finished. He felt both guilty and proud, all at the same time. Meg thought much about the relationships in her life. She also thought highly of him, and of her mother's inclinations toward him. Perhaps he should think more about them too.

Oh how he wished the carriage ride was over, he needed to talk to Erik, dig deep into what he could remember as a boy, anything that might help. Nadir closed his eyes. When he'd tried everything else, he'd pray.

Not the most religious man in the world, but he knew it had power. "Lord, if you find it in your will to allow us to discover the truths that have been hidden from this family for so long, please, I implore you, show us a sign, anything that would help us find what we need to in order to uncover the truth." Nadir immediately felt better. Not only because he'd prayed, but also, because upon opening his eyes, he could see the glow from the winter house out of the carriage window. He'd be there soon.

XXXX

Raoul had sat all afternoon reading to Meg. At points she had dozed off, the pleasant company, the warmth of the fire, and nothing but Raoul's melodious reading voice, had contributed heavily to her drooping eyes. Madeline had come and gone several times, refreshing the tea, and refilling the cookie plate that she and Raoul had no trouble emptying several times. It was as if they were school children on holiday the way they'd been eating them. There was something decidedly soothing about enjoying them, knowing that their origin lay with a woman who'd provided both with a comforting word, and a warm cookie just when it was needed most.

"Oh Raoul, that was entirely lovely. Do you not grow weary from the strain of reading?" She said as she poured him another cup of tea with a dot of honey, just as he liked it. The room was warm and entirely private, save the noises the staff were making cleaning on the floors above.

"I hope I've not tired you so that you'll not join my father and I for dinner when he arrives with your mother." Meg smiled. She'd sit through dinner for Raoul's sake, though she doubted very much that she'd have much of an appetite after having eaten nearly a half dozen cookies that afternoon! Raoul chuckled at her. "At least my dear you'd be excused from consuming a large portion of anything. I on the other hand, will be expected to eat a full portion, lest I have to admit to my father that I was entirely full, having spoiled my appetite with sweets!"

That made both Raoul and Meg laugh. They'd both been chastised for that very thing when they were children, and had just spoken of it the day before. It was starting to feel very much to Meg that she and Raoul were developing a past together. One that was neither occupied by Christine nor anyone else for that matter. That alone would make having a future much more possible.

Meg startled as she heard a bang on the wall just down the hall. Raoul cringed. "Raoul, do your staff normally find themselves this busy? They've been banging about your house all afternoon."

He closed the book, reaching out for Meg's hand. "They are a busy lot, they do take particular pride in keeping a tidy household. It just so happens we have three house guests, and an additional one in the stable, so they are going to every effort to make everyone as comfortable as possible."

Meg looked down at her hand in Raoul's it felt good to have his warm hands around hers. She was going to say as much when Madeline opened the door. "Vicomte, have question, no trouble please?"

Meg smiled at Raoul, "do you mind at all?" he said to her. She shook her head no. "I've plenty to keep me occupied here. She glanced over the number of books that they'd worked their way through that afternoon. Raoul nodded and followed Madeline out into the hall, pulling the door closed behind him.

Madeline led him into the kitchen, pulling the door closed behind her. "Vicomte, bed not here. Bed not come till tomorrow. We tell Meg, we spill wax all over floor her room, she sleep in room with mother?"

Raoul didn't like telling a fib, especially to Meg, but in this case, there was no other way to deal with this, for what is a room without a bed? "Very well Madeline, do as you suggest, but do be a dear and spill a bit of wax there, so we won't be lying entirely!"

Madeline smiled at him, she understood. Raoul was scrupulous when it came to being honest. It was one quality that his mother had drilled into him. She'd always advised him that he could tell the most about the sincerity of a person's heart by how honest they were, and he'd taken that with him every day of his life since then.

"Have you seen my father Maddy?" "No, carriage not come from Paris…many others come and go, bring many things, but no father." "Thank you."

He returned the study where Meg had been wandering about looking at the pictures that were carefully hung on the wall. She had shuddered at the picture of Raoul's father, it was like looking at a shadow of Erik years from now. She adored the picture of his mother with he and his sister, and it was that picture that she stood in front of when Raoul entered.

"That was painted just weeks before she died." He said coming to join Meg at the foot of it. "She was a beautiful woman Raoul…your mother."

He smiled up at the picture. "Yes, she was, inside and out." The look on his face was priceless. Meg could tell he'd loved his mother a great deal. His gaze displayed his undulating adoration for a woman he'd spent only a fraction of his life with. She had been the most important part of his world until the day they'd been parted by her death.

He turned to face Meg, "I've some news for you." Raoul began rather uncomfortably to spin a yarn regarding the spilled wax. "So, if it doesn't trouble you, I'd like to have a cot brought into your mother's room until we can see to having it properly remedied."

"Oh Raoul, I shan't mind at all, I think it is most gracious that you've allowed my mother and I to stay with you. I should be happy no matter where you'll have me." In truth, she was glad to have an opportunity to sleep in another room. Though she'd not mentioned it, the longer she contemplated the fact that all of the items in that room were to have belonged to Christine the harder it became to appreciate them….be surrounded by them.

Raoul smiled, "good, I'll have Madeline see to the arrangements then."

There was yet another knock on the door. "Our quite afternoon has turned into a rather busy evening my dear!" Raoul said in a rather mocking fashion. He opened the door just slightly.

"Vicomte, I have that report you requested, if you'd be inclined to join me in another room." Raoul nodded.

"Meg, do you mind at all, I'll be back in a few moments time?" Meg smiled nodding, "this is your house Raoul, you do not need my permission to tend to your business, for I am but a guest here." She'd meant to be sincere and reassuring, though it stirred a feeling in Raoul, and before he'd thought it through, it escaped his lips. "For now my dear, but do not think it shall always be mine alone." He was blushing as he pulled the door closed. He'd not yet received Madame Giry's permission, and he was already acting more like a fiancé even than a simple suitor!

Meg again began fumbling with the pieces of paper she'd kept concealed within the folds of her dress all afternoon. She needed to act swiftly, ridding herself of them before Raoul returned. She looked at the fire, deciding against it for what if a remnant remained? She could not make her way up to her room, Raoul had explained that the floors would not allow travel on the upper floors just now.

She was in this room, and it needed to provide safe-haven to the journal entries until she could find a more suitable place. She glanced everywhere. The only plausible idea was placing the pages within a book, perhaps one that was not often used, so as to avoid unintentional discovery.

She pushed a chair as quietly as she could over to the shelf. Each one had been carefully dusted, so it was hard to tell what was likely least used, though one could surmise the higher the shelf, the less it was used. Meg stretched as far as her frame would allow, pulling an old chartreuse covered book from the shelf. Meg quickly slipping the pages in the middle. She turned it over to reveal the cover, 'Love Letter' authored by John Adams, April 20, 1763. Meg had heard of the great book, though she'd never had opportunity to lay her hands on a copy. Perhaps one day she could borrow it from Raoul. For tonight, it would provide a much needed hiding place for the pages until Meg could find a more suitable way to dispose of them. She quickly returned the book to the shelf, and the chair to its home. She sat in the chair, just as she had before, lest Raoul return.

Raoul shook his head as the man tugged at his jacket and they slipped into the coatroom. "I've had interrogatories with all who work in the stable. None took ownership of the bedded area, nor knew of the stacked wood. I sent out several contingents to search the property. They found no hole in the fencing, or any sign that anything had been disturbed. I shan't know what to make of it Vicomte."

Raoul rubbed his chin, "I see, well, at the very least, we know whatever or whoever made the shade of that tree bed last night, is no longer here. Never-the-less, I'd like several staff to maintain guard near the entrances of the house for the while that Miss Giry and her mother are here. One can never be too careful when there are ladies to be considered."

The stable master nodded his head, "I think that is most prudent Vicomte." Raoul thanked him and was returning to his study when he heard the staff welcoming his father and Madame Giry. It was time to retrieve Meg, for dinner would certainly be served within the hour, and there was the customary glass of sherry before dinner.

XXX

Erik held his breath as he walked down the short alley that led out to the street. His fear was compounded by the fact that he had neither mask nor sword, and his Christine was back in the alley quite alone, and unprotected. Yes, he'd go to the street to see who Christine mentioned, but he'd not stray far in case she called for him.

Erik didn't have to wait long before he saw the face that belonged to the voice. He strained to make her out, but he was entirely certain that it was the young woman who'd offered them dessert at the tavern that very evening. As she came closer, he recognized it was indeed her.

"Sir, there you are sir, I've been looking all over Chauesser for you…..I'd feared you and your wife had already gone." She was quite out of breath, and ready to sit down. Erik was still scanning the street, waiting for any minute that the guard would be hiding ready to catch him unaware.

"Sir, I must apologize for that woman's behavior tonight." Erik's neck nearly snapped as he turned his full attention to this young woman. He motioned for her to sit on the bench in front of the mercantile.

"What do you know of that woman?" Erik asked. The girl looked down somewhat embarrassed. "She is my grandmother. She has been out of her wits a number of years, and had fantasies that were far too unreal to be true. She's hallucinated that a man was coming back for something she had, that was most precious to him, though she'd never say what it was precisely. When she saw you and your wife last night, she was convinced you were that man, that you'd come to collect your item. She began babbling again about having to return something which she'd lost long ago…." Erik gasped, he realized he'd been holding his breath.

The girl was apple-red now, as she continued. "My grandmother even created a name for you, claiming it to be real…now I fear she's gone completely mad. She snuck out of my mother's house and has been roaming the streets all day in hopes of finding you. Tonight, she'd come to my work and was waiting outside on a bench when she spied you and your wife having dinner, and that is when she began pounding on the window."

Erik was relieved, they'd not been found. He'd have found the situation nearly laughable, but he didn't…she'd used the name….De Chagny. Erik looked down at the girl, trying to provide her some comfort, but unable to do so, he asked the question that was burning in the back of his mind.

"She called me DeChagny…is that a family that lives here?" The girl shook her head no. "No doubt it is something that she's made up in her mind, just as she does so many other things these days." Erik was confused, but relieved. No relation to the name was familiar to this young woman. Surely one who holds a position as she did, would likely have heard the name before, as many of the residents frequented the tavern where she worked. But how could there be such a coincidence? Ah, he remembered, he didn't believe in coincidences, he'd even professed as much to Christine not long before. Oh how he longed for Nadir's company…perhaps he could do a bit of poking around, perhaps speak to the old woman for Erik…find out why the fascination.

The young woman sat rather contritely next to Erik on the bench. A few moments of silence had passed as Erik contemplated. "Do not worry young miss, your grandmother did not offend me. She may have startled my wife a bit, but no harm was done."

The woman looked entirely relieved. "Will you and your wife be staying in Chauesser long?" Erik smiled at her, "we've been thinking a bit of it…why do you ask?"

She smiled up at him, ever the dutiful employee, "I should say that we owe you and your wife a dessert. My manager has instructed me to invite the two of you to dinner, with our compliments, the next time you are in the village."

Erik smiled, an invitation…..how long it had been since he'd received one. "I shall tell my wife of it, I'm certain she would be delighted."

The young woman stood, nervously looking back down the street. "I best be getting back now, they'll have plenty to keep me occupied I'm quite sure."

Erik stood smiling at her, "thank you for your kindness in clearing up the matter. Do tell your employer not to worry, or trouble your grandmother, no harm was done."

"Thank you sir, I shall." She curtsied, and was about to trot off down the street but she paused. "Sir, if I might be so forward, may I just say, that you and your wife are quite a handsome couple. It has been a long while since we've seen a couple so obviously in love, it gave us all a bit of happiness tonight to see the two of you enjoying one another's company."

Erik smiled widely, feeling his cheeks flush. "She is a lovely creature, I dare say I am a very fortunate man, thank you."

The girl smiled timidly and before she could stop it, the words tumbled out, "and she a fortunate lady sir." She smiled quickly and then ran off down the street. The last comment making Erik's face go straight. Twice in two days he'd been uncomfortable at the notice of another woman, and he could certainly say he didn't think he'd ever grow accustomed to it, should it continue.

He was turning to go to Christine, and just as he did, he noticed her standing just out of sight in the shadows of the mercantile. "Christine?" She smiled at him as she walked over, reaching out and grabbing both of his hands, she stood on her tip-toes and kissed Erik's cheek.

"I told you there was nothing to fear….though the name, that does raise some question." Erik looked down at Christine's face that was illuminated by the faint rays of the setting sun. She looked peaceful, and the mere presence of her countenance made Erik relax the clench in his jaw.

"We shall know in time, or perhaps it is nothing at all. She may have encountered that name anywhere….an article in a newspaper perhaps, a story, anything is entirely possible." Christine said as she ran her hand along Erik's arm, and then onto his hand as she slipped hers into his. "Come, let us sit and wait for the carriage, no doubt it will be here soon."

Erik nodded to her as he followed her leading to the back of the mercantile. Once again in the shadows, she bid Erik sit on the crate, and lean back against the post. She climbed into his lap, tenderly fingering his dark curls. His eyes roamed her face, her beauty and vivaciousness captivated him every time he looked deep into her eyes. She leaned down tenderly kissing him on the lips as he drew her to him. There they sat, in the shadows of a setting sun, their love adding yet another moment to the wonderful memories of their lifetime.

A sharp snap, and thud, and Erik and Christine found themselves splayed out on the ground, Christine atop Erik. The crate had broken in two, and now they were in fits of laughter, as they rolled around to find their footing. Though it appeared most improper, the pair couldn't help themselves up they'd begun laughing so heartily. There they laid on the ground holding hands, looking up into the night sky, and laughing.

Author's notes:

**Captain Oblivious**: Yes, drive-in theaters are a thing of the past I'm afraid. They are entirely enjoyable if you like a "retro" experience. Second year of college, my goodness me. You'll be a very busy girl. Now instead of spending 10 hours on your feet working, you'll be spending 10 hours a day with your nose in a book, or in class! College is indeed very demanding, but in the end, very rewarding. That is the best part about learned knowledge. Everything else you acquire in your life can be stolen from you, but knowledge….it stays with you forever, a true asset as far as I'm concerned! I hope you have a great weekend camping!

Yes, poor Erik indeed. I don't think anyone ever expected he could transition to a normal life without a few….o.k., many bumps on the road. He is happy, he is loved, but it is all tempered by the fact that he is in hiding, has the love of a woman that another man wanted, has been through so much physically and emotionally, and is about to have some very interesting news….

**Icherisherik**: Glad to hear you're working on that essay, a student's studies are important! (Did I sound a little like what Erik might when he starts instructing his staff….can you imagine him as a teacher? Yikes…I bet he'll be a tough grader!)

Yes, the story would be entirely boring without some suspense, but I hope that this chapter provided some relief for you for the weekend. Raoul, I've never hated him, o.k., I did want to smother him a couple of times when I thought he was hurting the Phantom! But in the end, Christine couldn't truly be happy and content if she thought she'd broken his heart forever, after all he was her childhood friend, and she does care for him, though not like she does Erik!

**Hopelesslyobsessed**: I bet you'd be tracking down our poor Gerry wouldn't you? I cannot say I'd blame you. After you spend the money getting there, it would be like going to the mall shopping and coming home without buying anything!

O.k., glad I saved you a little money on the 'Jury' movie. Oh, I looked at my library last night, the video I'd forgotten I had was 'Reign of Fire', it has Christian Bale as the leader, and our beloved Gerry is his best friend. As actors, they interact really, really, well. I hope they have a chance to make a movie together again because they have great chemistry on screen, and I mean that in a man to man as friends kind of chemistry. It is a weird movie about dragons, but hey, if you like 'Star Wars', you'll get to see Christian and Gerry reenact a scene from that movie…it was hilarious! I'll warn you though, Gerry only makes it half way through the movie, and Matthew McConnehay (spelling?) is really icky in the movie. I like him in other movies, but let's hope for his sake he never goes bald!

Hope you like this chapter, not too much stress for the weekend!

**Darkmoonlightbright:** Do not worry that you write too much, I am a long talker myself! Unless I am in extreme pain, or have absolutely no time, I cannot help myself! Yes Night Owls are a unique group of people, we don't see the world as everyone else does that is for certain! The one quote I tell my friends who object, or think me to be mad, is that if we were all created alike, same interests, skills, sleeping habits, then some of us wouldn't be necessary! So, here's to different people…..long live the crazies!

Hope you enjoy this chapter. I laughed a little while I was writing the ending with Erik and Christine laying out on the ground. What I hope people can feel is that Erik is starting to blossom as a person. That happy times will replace the years of repressed feelings, years of utter loneliness, and a lifetime thus far without the happiness that he so longed for.

**Poetzproblem**: Thank you for the compliment. I hope this chapter answered some of the lurking questions you had. I try not to leave too much unresolved over the weekend, for I don't have a cruel bone in my body….I suppose that depends on who you ask I guess! LOL! The next chapters some things will start to gel, and by this time next week, a few more important things will be making their way to the surface…at least I think they will.

Yes, Madame Giry needed to get someone else's perspective on the relationship. She's been surrounded by men who aren't always as intuitive as women can be when it comes to relationships. She also needed to find out what was going on between them when Meg visited Paris unaccompanied. She'd sensed there was something growing there, and she needed someone to confirm that it wasn't her imagination, and that Raoul wasn't just on the rebound having lost Christine. Oh, yes, Crawlings, I doubt very much we've seen the last of him…..

**Phantomluvr**: Time will change your point of view on mathematics. And though most of us will never use the quadratic equation, calculus, or even care what cold fusion is, I am entirely glad that they exist, and that someone knows how to use them. Math is truly the only fundamental and universal language. No matter what language you speak, the process of math is still the same!

Hmmmm…Erik in a lake, perhaps Christine could use a long branch from a tree to pull him to the shore, assuming he isn't all that far from shore, or maybe into a boat if they have one, using an oar. The nice thing about people in water is that someone who is very heavy is suddenly light, and someone even as small as Christine could easily move him through the water. I'm kind of liking the branch idea…I can see it is nighttime, perhaps the sky is stormy, Erik's in trouble, and doing the deadman float in the water…Christine does the only thing she can do, and that is reach for a large stick and pull him to shore….or Christine jumps into the water, her dress floating up around her neck, threatening to drowned her, but she pushes on to save her love, struggles back to shore and pulls him up onto the sand where she pushes the water out of his lungs and saves him…..oh, the possibilities!


	104. Time Coming Home

Chapter 104 Coming Home

Raoul greeted his father and welcomed Madame Giry into the house. "Meg and I have been in the library reading this afternoon." He said, making conversation that he knew Meg could overhear. His eyes scanning Madame Giry's face. She nodded, speaking very quietly she leaned over to Raoul. "Yes, we've taken care of every detail, and it was lovely to meet your sister!" Raoul blushed slightly, his secret hadn't been entirely kept.

His father had already found his way to the parlor instructing Madeline to pour , the sherry.

"It is quite a shame that Nadir had to leave, I'd rather looked forward to visiting with him again this evening….but it is understandable that he'd have to take care of that poor woman's last details." His father was saying as Raoul led Madame Giry into the parlor.

"Yes, it is, he hopes to be gone but a few days at best. He's much to do to sell her Inn, find her children.." Raoul said, nodding to his father as he extended a glass of sherry to he and Madame Giry. Raoul looked over his shoulder. He thought that Meg perhaps would have joined them of her own volition, but she had not. So he seized the opportunity. He led Madame Giry over to the window, a distance from the door, but still in full view of it lest Meg walk in.

"Do tell me, did you find everything that she might require?" Madame Giry was politely sipping her sherry. "Yes, we've found the necessities, they've been delivered I understand, however the bed…" Raoul nodded, glancing toward the door, and then back at Madame Giry. "Yes, Madeline told me of it. We've made arrangements for Meg to join you in your room this evening." Madame Giry tilted her head inquisitively. Raoul squinted, a bit uncomfortable.

"Meg believes that the room was not suitable for her to sleep in because a large puddle of wax had been spilled, rendering her room unsuitable for occupation presently. She couldn't very well occupy a room without something to sleep on!" Madame Giry smiled at him nodding, "how resourceful."

Raoul glanced over at his father who was entirely distracted as he dug through the cigar box and inquiring about the dinner menu with Madeline, trying to select a suitable wine.

Raoul tried to swallow but his mouth was as dry as a desert. He took a sip of his sherry, and began. "Madame Giry," he glanced down at the ground, and then up at her with sincere eyes. "We were interrupted by Meg when last I broached this subject, and I feel entirely compelled to ask again so that my intentions are not misunderstood. I've no need to rush you or Meg to a premature decision, but I shan't go any further unless I am certain that you do not disapprove, for that would be entirely cruel to Meg, and I dare say that I'm not prepared for the repercussions of…." Madame Giry reached out and touched Raoul's hand compassionately.

"Raoul, I must tell you something, as much as a friend, someone perhaps nearly the age of your own mother..." Raoul flinched at the mention of it. "You are a most kind young man Raoul. I have watched as you have cared for Meg these last days." Madame Giry paused, looking at him with heart felt feeling. "Raoul, I observed you holding her while she slept." Raoul's cheeks were now a deep crimson. It felt like the words had leaped from her lips as liquid fire burning into his skin. "Raoul, do not misunderstand, I know your intentions were merely for Meg's comfort, do not worry." Raoul still blushed heavily, though her soothing words reassured him. "You must know that Meg has enjoyed the times she has visited with you in Paris. I see now how she looks at you, and you at her Raoul." He smiled at her a bit coyly.

His father provided a temporary distraction as his irritation grew over the wine selection, and at one point he felt compelled to follow Madeline down to the cellar. Raoul breathed a sigh of relief, as did Madame Giry. He turned to look at her again.

"Raoul, I do not know if either you or Meg are yet ready to have a relationship, at least one so serious. I do know however, that whenever the two of you are together, there is a simple happiness, an easy demeanor, an obvious comfort." Raoul smiled at her slightly, for he knew she spoke the truth. "Raoul, if I am to acknowledge your request, I must do so with condition." Raoul's smile turned, his face now serious, but forthright. "Whatever you ask of me," he replied.

"You must know your own heart…allow Meg to know her own heart….and that may take some time." Raoul nodded in agreement. "You must know that fortune means very little to me, or to Meg." Raoul nodded again, he knew of her opinions of such things. "Raoul," she paused. His breath caught in his throat. "You, and Meg, both individually, and together, must talk of what would happen if…."

Raoul looked fiercely toward the ground as though drawn to something on it…he knew what she asked next was the most difficult. "I've thought about this myself Madame Giry, a thousand times, I've asked myself what if….."

She looked at him with sympathy, but firmness. "It is a question you must be able to answer. It must be faced so that you can both say with great assurance that this would have no bearing on your relationship." She paused, looking once again at Raoul until he caught her eye. "In order to be happy, truly happy, you must know what you would do."

Raoul looked at her with pleading eyes. "May I show you something?" Madame Giry returned his gaze with question in her eye. What could he show her that would have any bearing on their current conversation? She simply stared at Raoul. He extended his hand and led Madame Giry out of the parlor and down the hall. "This room is very special to me," he said turning up the lamp fully once the door was closed securely behind them.

Madame Giry's eyes were roaming the walls. Scattered all around, in decorative frames of every shape and size, were pictures of his family. A number of his mother, his sister, his grandparents. Raoul watched as Madame Giry looked around the room in amazement. "These are among my happiest memories." Raoul said with fond affection in his voice.

Her eyes finally came to rest on a picture covered by a long lace doily. Her head cocked, as she turned to Raoul. "And what of this one Raoul?" she asked. He nodded to her. She turned back to the picture, reaching up she slid the covering from it. She gasped as she brought her hand to her lips. It was the most beautiful painting of Christine that she had ever laid eyes on.

Raoul's voice sounded so far away, reflective. "It was to have been our engagement picture." He said as her eyes took in every inch of it. "It was completed not a month ago, and hung in the outer hall." Madame Giry's brow furrowed in question. "This room contains all of my memories, both good and otherwise." He stood with Madame Giry looking up at the picture. "Perhaps when you visit Elizabeth and Stephan, you could make a gift of it to them for me?"

Madame Giry froze…the deception registering to the very corners of her conscience. "If only he knew," she thought to herself.

"Madame Giry, this is part of my past. A wonderful part of my past. Though I shall forever wonder what became of our dearest Christine, that does not mean I cannot love Meg. We both miss her terribly, and in a way, I am certain that she would have wanted both of us to be happy too." Madame Giry could feel tears welling up in her eyes.

Raoul turned Madame Giry slightly by the shoulder. "I've thought about this a great deal these last days." Raoul paused, he knew what he was about to say he had to do so not only for Madame Giry's benefit, but for his own, having never uttered the words outloud. "Madame Giry, if Christine is never found, Meg and I will carry with us a sadness for the loss of her…." He paused, "if one day….she returns to us…." His voice began to crack. "Meg and I will welcome her with open arms…..together."

Madame Giry looked at Raoul's tear streaked face. She'd not known him as a little boy, but somehow he looked rather like he did in the pictures from when he was young. She glanced over his shoulder at the picture of Raoul in his mother's lap, and to the left of him, the picture of Christine, then finally back at Raoul. His lips quivered.

"These are the memories of my past Madame Giry….I am obliged to move on to my future….for that is where my heart now lies." A large teardrop made its way over Raoul's lower lid, and quickly down his chin.

He raised his hand to wipe it away. "Raoul DeChagny," Madame Giry said with a gentle firmness, resting both hands on his shoulders. "If you love Meg, as I believe she does you, I should like nothing more than to see the two of you find happiness in each others company."

Raoul smiled widely reaching out to embrace her. "May I…" Raoul began. Madame Giry smiled as she rested her chin on his shoulder. "You may," she paused as a smile crossed her face, "I have always wanted a son." Raoul squeezed her tightly….she had understood him. "Thank you…..mother."

The pair startled as the door to the small room creaked open. There in the doorway stood Meg, a very confused look on her face as she saw her mother and Raoul's tear stained smiling faces, holding one another. "Mother….Raoul?" Her mother smiled at her. Raoul reached out and took her hand leading her into the room. Madame Giry went to the entry way, looking both ways to make certain no one was in the hall, then she turned to the smiling pair, closing the door, she returned to them with a smile. Outside the closed door could be heard a few soft giggles as they enjoyed this most precious moment in the privacy of the room that held Raoul's most precious memories.

Though the small room they now stood in had been a silver closet in the home of a man of considerable wealth, it now held something far more precious than silver. It held the very breath of life itself It held the love of a family, a family like one that none of them had ever known. No earthly treasure was worth more than this.

Raoul's father was back in the parlor, triumphantly announcing the perfect selection of wine for dinner, only to find the room entirely empty. He walked out into the hallway, no one to be seen. Scratching at his head he returned to the parlor, sitting down to sip his sherry before the fire. Perhaps he'd missed something, and it appeared to him, he'd no alternative but to wait for them to return.

XXXXXXX

Nadir was relieved to finally be out of the carriage. He was at once surprised by the greetings he received, it seemed as though he'd been brought to the wrong house as there were so many faces from Courtland Manor there.

"What is this?" He said, as his cloak was removed from his shoulders by the maid as he entered the house. "Good evening sir, would you like a cup of tea, or a bit of sherry perhaps?" Nadir was looking around with wide eyes. All the coverings had been removed. The floor was cleaned and dusted, though it was in need of a fresh coat of wax. A warming fire crackled in the fireplace. A decanter of sherry sat welcomingly on the table beside the piano. It looked very much like a happily occupied family home, instead of the site of heinous murders, oh if the walls could talk.

"Where is Monsieur Courtland?" Nadir said as he went into the parlor to stretch out in front of the fire. He was entirely eager to talk to Erik. He knew of Erik's perceptiveness…he had to appear weary from the journey, eager only for friendly banter, and a nice glass of sherry. Any hint of excitement or anxiety would immediately put Erik on alert that Nadir was searching for something.

It was quite an artful game that he and Erik played with one another. One being as skilled at it as the other, it was hard to fool. Though in most cases Nadir never kept anything from Erik, this time it was different. He loved Erik through and through, and the weight of the knowledge bore heavily on Nadir's heart. If he were wrong, they would be running forever…if he and Meg were right….if they were right….. Nadir shook his head. He could not look contemplative when Erik saw him. Relax, relax, relax. He kept chanting over and over again in his mind.

The maid reappeared with a pot of tea, and a few small sandwiches. "I'm quite afraid that Monsieur and his wife have gone into Chauesser for dinner this evening." She said setting the plate down next to the pot of tea on the table in front of Nadir. "We've not yet set up a proper kitchen, or I'd offer you a bit heavier supper." Nadir thanked her. "Your kindness is appreciated." He lifted one of the sandwiches taking a small bite. The maid smiled and went on her way.

Nadir set the sandwich back on the plate. In truth, he was far too nervous to be putting anything into his stomach. He glanced over at the decanter of sherry, and then back at the pot of tea. "Well, except for a bit of sherry." He said to himself, rising to retrieve a glass.

Taking his first sip he leaned back into the comfort of the divan. He would relax, while he waited for them to return. He could hear Erik's staff busily bringing in his trunk, discussing which room to put him in. He glanced out the window, it was quite nearly night outside, surely they would be home soon. Nadir's eyes closed for a brief moment and then flew back open, realization of the current activity sounding an alarm in his mind. If the staff were preparing the house on the main floor….they'd not yet set up a proper kitchen…..were they planning to stay? Nadir was on his feet. He knew how thorough the staff were…if they were staying….the house would receive a proper once-over to ready it for use. He had to get to that picture….and quickly…before Erik came home.

XXXX

Erik and Christine were nestled inside the carriage. Little had they realized that they would be the last to arrive home. There was something pleasant about spending the entire evening in town, and returning home to a welcoming house…together. They'd spent the ride laughing about the crate, falling on the ground…. Now nearing home the pair sat quietly, a happy contented quiet.

Erik was looking down at Christine in his arms. She was radiating as she gazed out the window rubbing her hand subconsciously over her stomach. "Christine, are you alright my dear…you weren't hurt when we landed on the ground?" Christine quickly turned her attentions to Erik. Smiling up at him she said, "no, being the ever dutiful husband, I should be asking you if I hurt you when I landed squarely on your mid section! I should have known the crate would not hold the both of us….I simply wanted to be in your arms." She looked down at the floor of the carriage.

Somewhat shyly she began. "I am a young bride Erik. I hope you do not find my advances too improper. There is something about you….something that I cannot explain or fully describe…something that moves me when I am with you, something that makes me desire to be closer to you….even when I am with you."

Erik drew her further into his arms. "I love to hear you speak of it Christine, it is like a beautiful symphony of words floating through the air, a drink for a soul parched to within an inch of its life."

Christine slid her arms around his middle. "How eloquent are your words Erik…even in a moment when I am vulnerable for critique, you words find a way to assure me that I am accepted and loved for who I am."

Erik looked down at her with such wonder. "My dearest Christine, do you not understand that I am the blessed one, the fortunate one? To have you…the love of my life…and this…" he said, sliding his warm hand along her abdomen, "this joy, no man could feel more blessed, more grateful than I do. You are my reason for breathing, for wanting to live, for desiring to rise each morning…." He leaned over placing an affectionate kiss on her temple, "for wanting to retire each night rather than roam the halls in the dark as I have most of my life."

Christine nestled under his cloak. "Erik, my dear sweet Erik….I have loved you all of my life…perhaps not you exactly…but part of you….the promise of you. As time went on and you turned from angel to protector to tutor to guardian to guide….to manifestation as a living breathing man…I've learned to love you in layers…so when I say I love you, it means that I love you deeply, all of you….even that which remains hidden from me…" she turned to him, taking his chin into her hand. "Erik, I am the truly blessed one, for you have given me everything that matters most to me in the world…you've given me you…."

She slid her hand intermingled with his over her stomach. "You've given me our son….a woman….a no sooner ask for any more than she could ask to possess heaven on earth itself."

Erik slid Christine around until she faced him. Pulling her up into his lap he kissed her tenderly. No matter how many times she said she loved him, appreciated him, felt blessed to be with him, he would always know the truth. She had been…had always been, his angel of rescue, of mercy, of acceptance, of love…and he would be forever indebted to this magnificent woman, this angelic creature, the mother to his child….his wife.

Erik held her closely as the lights of the winter house came into view. His eyes squinted, was that a second carriage? "Christine, I think we have company….perhaps, yes, yes I believe, it must be Nadir." Erik quickly recognizing the wheels on the carriage that was just being brought into the stable behind the house. His house, Christine's house…they really needed to find another more proper name for it. Winter house just didn't seem fitting for it presently, as it might be occupied for much more than that….it was already Spring….and here they were very much at home…THEIR house. Oh how he loved the thought of it.

Author's notes:

**Hybrid Knightress**: Welcome to the family! Our little Phantomfamily has really grown, and I hope that your stay with us is a long and enjoyable one! Thank you for the compliment. I just could not end that serious scenario without a touch of a little humor and happiness! Now it has become tradition in our little family to try to figure out the tag names of each of our new members. Hmmmm…I am wondering if you are a fan of Heath Ledger….perhaps you watched 'A Knight's Tale'? Otherwise, perhaps you delve into the world of lords and ladies, preferring that period of history….Elizabethan romance… I may be way off the mark, so please, if you feel comfortable, do tell our little family how you arrived at your name!

**Hoplesslyobsessed**: You are correct…that moment when Dracula changes from his former shell of himself into…well….hmmmm mere words cannot describe what he becomes… Yes, I think I replayed that a hundred times…you could just feel him drawing her to him couldn't you? Somehow being given two very large puncture wounds in the jugular suddenly didn't seem too bad! Yikes… I have no idea how many times I've watched that movie…its something about that man in a cape or coat. I must say it is a little bloody, and parts of it really bothered me, but I watched it solely for the "Gerry factor." ;- The last scene where he was hanging there, I have to say is what made the movie a bit easier for me, it was like he finally asked to be forgiven for what he did, and so he was allowed to die in peace…if that makes sense to you. Otherwise it really kind of bugged me that he was doing all this anti-God stuff during the movie. Before watching that movie I guess I'd never really thought about what Judas Iscariot would have thought before he hung himself…it was a little eerie.

Oh yes, the other movie I had forgotten I had in my library of "Gerard DVDs" was Tomb Raider, thus bringing my total up to eight!

O.K., on to the story. I think you will find in the next few days you will know more about what is going on upstairs in Raoul's house. You may already have a gut instinct about what it is, but if not, I don't want to spoil the surprise! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Crayann**: Yes, I had begun to wonder/worry about your absence, but I know how busy all of our lives can get sometimes! In truth I am a little worried for all of our students who will be going back to school in a few short weeks…I don't want to take up their precious study time….I may have to rethink how often I update for their sake… Anyway, I hope you had a nice vacation. It is sometimes good for us to have a break from our normal routine…it helps us to decide if the routine is good or not, and if it what makes us happy or not.

You are most welcome for the updates….I am most happy that you enjoyed them. I sometimes sit and wonder about where all of our little family is from…if we are making people smile a little bit all over the world! It gives me a sense of happiness myself if I know I've made someone smile! Hope you liked this chapter….it of course…only raises more questions!

**PhantomLover2005:** Welcome to the family! Yes, it was touch and go there for a couple of minutes! Just when Erik had started to let his guard down, to relax into the relationship with Christine, all his old fears and insecurities came flying back to the surface, which of course begs the question….is he really letting go of his dark suspicious side, or is he merely stuffing it away, only to recall it when he wakes from all of this to find that it was only a dream….I think sometimes he has to be thinking that it is don't you? He'd never expected to live a life like a normal man, and now….here he is with Christine at his side…. So now…on to you. I must ask, as a new part of our little Phantomfamily, for you to explain your chosen tag name. It does make sense that you are a Phantom Lover, for that is how you found our little family in the first place….but….how did you decide on the 2005…was it because of the year…or because every number from 1 through 2004 was already taken by people as crazy as us!

**Diveprincess**: Hope you are feeling a little better every day, and that those broken bones are healing well! It seems silly to say it in this way, but it is far better to have broken bones than a broken spirit…I am glad that you aren't going to let this little detour stop you from pursuing your dream! I also hope James spent the entire weekend with you watching movies and getting you popcorn and soda, AND, letting you have control over the remote! (You can probably tell I am a big believer in friends sticky by each other through thick and thin!) O.K., I'm going to add Gulliver's to my list for the next time I'm in Chicago…which probably won't be for a year or so. I always like going to places that are recommended because usually the locals know where the best food really is, and often it isn't the big places that advertise in all the hotels!

Thank you for the compliment on the chapter. I am getting very excited about the developing relationships. Erik and Christine have grown into this loving, exciting, committed couple, I simply cannot get enough of them!

**Captain Oblivious**: We will miss you during your absence, but everyone deserves a vacation…and then….it's off to school for you! Yes, the band-aid thing….well, I don't know that I can quickly jump from where we are now to that…but I can assure you, it will be worth the wait…. By the time you are reading this, you will find additional chapters that will bring more information….hope you had a wonderful time!

**PhantomFan13**: Yes, I am happy that our family is growing too! I sometimes wonder how many are out there that we've not heard from that might be part of our family and we just don't know it! I am so happy that we've been able to stick together as Erik and the rest have gone on their wild ride!

The guest ranch sounds fun…but ohhh…a sunburn…those are never fun. If I could send you a large bottle of aloe vera or burn cream through cyber space for you I would, but alas, technology hasn't gone that far yet…just know that I am sympathizing with you right now…burns are such a "pain" LOL Yes, trail rides for those who ride English Style would seem like putting someone that rides a motorcycle on a tricycle with training wheels! Yikes…your dad works for Double-Day! I already have a nearly full library, literally shelves and shelves of books. If I had access to an unlimited supply of books…I'd need another house! I think I have at least one book of some sort or another in every room of my house! One in each of the lavatories, a half-dozen in each of the bedrooms, one in the living room, one in the kitchen, several in the dining room, one in the laundry room, a dozen or more in the pool room, several in the family room, dozens in my office, and then the mother-load in the library. Every year I donate some to the local library, but then I turn round and buy more….!

O.k., now, on to the more technical questions, I will answer if I can. Christine's father's name is Gustave. If you watch the movie, you can go to the part where she has just finished singing her first night at the Opera House, and she's down in the little room below where she lights a candle for her father before Meg comes down to find her. If you look closely at the picture below the candle, you will notice his name engraved on the plate….yes, I am that obsessed, and have watched the movie a hundred times so I've seen it! Now, on to the number three….I simply cannot tell you what that represents, not yet anyway, it would spoil the fun of everyone guessing what it might be! Now as far as the ending of the story….while I enjoy, very much enjoy having suspense in a story, and have been known to make use of a few "cliffies" I am a firm believer in resolution. I can assure you, nay, promise you, I will not end the story in such a way that begs for a sequel or would leave you wondering about any of the characters we've come to know and love. It will be an ending that will (I hope in my heart of hearts) make your entire time spent with our little Phantomfamily, entirely worth it!

Now, since it is time for true confessions, let me share with you….I love the movie Tomb Raider too….I've watched it a number of times, and I have to say that I loved our dear Gerry in it, especially how confident he was. I can fully appreciate your loving having the same name as the main character….o.k., now for my little secret…my first name is Kristine! So…you can see, at least, in part…why I love this story!

**Icherisherik**: Thank you…I rather liked that ending myself…couldn't you just see them laying on the ground laughing…such a stress reliever after an obviously intense few minutes! Yes, more specifics are coming in the next chapters…The crazy old lady does not exist in the story without a reason….and DeChagny….well….time will tell. Yes, I would rather prefer to have Erik as a teacher myself…although I think I'd intentionally flunk his classes so I could take them over and over again just to sit and stare at him! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

**DarkMoonLightBright**: Yes, I rather like that quote myself. If we were all the same sort of people, this world would be a pretty boring place! As for the people who tell you to shut up…you could try this. When next you see them, simply smile and whenever they say something to you, simply bring your hand to your chin and look at them and nod while saying reflectively "Hmmmmmmm" Believe me, it won't take long, and they will be wishing for the "old you" back. Even if they think you are driving them crazy, they have no idea what lies beneath the surface do they! O.k., on to Erik. Yes, I am enjoying how he is coming out of his shell. It is such a struggle to come out of ones shell especially if you've only known a lifetime of rejection and loneliness. He is handsome, powerful, charismatic, and all the other wonderful adjectives that we could use to describe him. But….he doesn't realize it, or believe it just yet. About the only things he is sure of is that he loves Christine, that she loves him, and that he is smarter than the average person….he doesn't even yet fully realize what he is capable of! But he will….oh yes…he will.

**PhantomLover05**: Welcome to the family! Our little Phantomfamily really grew over the weekend…and we are loving it! Thank you for the compliment. Yes, I hope that I can tuck in something for everyone…a little something to make everyone smile. I think that sometimes love stories can get a little too dark, or a little too, oh, I don't know…but I think love stories should be a little like real life…sometimes they are sad, sometimes they are happy, or just content. Sometimes funny things happen to the characters, and sometimes they are in intense pain. I think that is what I like best about the Phantom story, even though it is fiction, you can feel the passion and the pain as if the story were really, real. Now, we have a tradition in our Phantomfamily, whereby we try to discover the origins of their tag names, if our newest members are willing. Your's is fairly straightforward, although I am inclined to guess that you might be either a senior in high school, or in college based on the fact you've used the '05' designation at the end of your name. Typically only seniors use this in their vocabulary…. Either way, we hope your stay with us is a long and happy one!


	105. Mixed Blessings

**Chapter 105 Mixed Blessings**

"Mother, truly, do you give us your blessing?" Madame Giry surveyed Raoul and Meg's pleading faces. She could no sooner deny them her permission than they could deny the growing love between them. Deep in her heart of hearts, she knew that one day the pain of the full truth would surface, or surely it would tear her daughter apart. The only hope for Meg was for her to be parted from Christine, until such time that her very existence became a distant dream, a ghost, a memory of a past life. "Mother?"

Madame Giry smiled, embracing her daughter, and then Raoul. "Meg…Raoul," she took turns looking between them, "there is much to overcome in your lives. So very much has happened these last months, more I dare say than most young couples could bear. I have no doubt that your feelings are genuine, that you both seek peace and happiness. I only ask of you, right here and now, that you agree on two things…if you can agree to these, I give you my unequivocal blessing."

She reached out and took one of each of their hands in hers. A chill coursed through her hands as she felt the completion of a circle in that small room…no beginning…no end…no separation. Raoul looked at her with pleading eyes, Meg with both excitement and trepidation. "You must agree….in advance, what you shall do if Christine is ever found….agree without any outside influence, what that would mean for the two of you." She squeezed Meg's hand. Meg swallowed hard as she looked at Raoul. His face had not changed, he looked resolute as he shook his head in assent.

"Second, and I feel the greater of the two promises, is that no matter what happens in your lives in the coming years, that the two of you agree in advance…to forgive each other if ever either of you should falter…for love without forgiveness is not love at all…it becomes a withering being, incapable of healing or existing."

She looked back and forth until she was certain that neither of them had misunderstood, or had reservations about this great promise. Raoul looked at Meg, leaning over he kissed her on the right cheek. "I cannot imagine a time when I would not be able to forgive Meg anything that might require it…so yes….I so swear."

Meg was nearly in tears, Raoul had not proposed, nor was he likely to do so soon, but he was willing to try to love her without reservation. Meg could not speak but simply nodded her head toward her mother. "Good, then I shall offer you my blessing. Discover your love for each other, explore it, and in the end, if you find that it is love enough for a lifetime, I shall grant you my final blessing."

Raoul pulled both Madame Giry and Meg into a warm embrace. The three stood in the intimate little room of memories, basking in the glow of the promise of a future life. Just then the closet door flew open. There stood Raoul's father, confused look on his face, "there you…..are…what is going on here?" Raoul's father was not a daft man, quickly assessing the situation. Tears with smiling faces never meant sadness, surely…..Raoul would not have so quickly…..

He turned and walked away, back down to the parlor. He grabbed his glass of sherry, and quite ineloquently tipped it until the last dribbles from the bottom trickled down his throat. He stood shaking his head. How could he be so foolish….to love one chorus rat…an accident….but a second…yes she had a sweet disposition….but she was the daughter of the ballet mistress, the daughter of his own employee…what fodder for gossip…ah yes…..he could hear it now…

He spun on his heels as he realized that someone had come up behind him in the room now, pulling the doors closed. Without looking he knew it was Raoul. He began, "how could you son….how could you be so foolish? No, do not answer. She is a lovely young woman Raoul. Do you not think that she will always wonder that you think about Christine, even when you are holding her in your arms? Son, do not so quickly rush into a relationship, give it time…allow yourself to grieve…to be certain that there is not another you could love…"

Raoul walked up alongside his father, and then in front of him. "Father, one cannot choose what one's heart does. I have always been fond of Meg, and by her own admission, she of me. It was not until her last few visits to Paris that we found ourselves thinking of one another as more than friends…it only makes sense…we share a memory of a dear friend….we share so many things. Only she can truly understand the loss that I feel, for surely she feels it also."

Raoul's father shook his head. "Son, there is so much more to marriage than all of this. It is much more complicated, it is…" Raoul closed his eyes, going back to the first moments that he and his father reconciled in the very kitchen that was not but several rooms away.

"Father, I recall your confessions of your love for my mother, the love of your life. I recall you telling me you wanted me to be happy, to find love again." Now Raoul was fighting back tears. "This woman is a dear creature and she is willing to love me, to share a memory with me, to share a future with me…is it not better for me to be happy for what little time we have on this earth, or would you prefer that I find a shallow woman from a family with a good name and family fortune, and be but a shell of myself just for the sheer facade?"

His father's face had softened a bit. Perhaps it was his third glass of sherry, or it was the reality that his son had what he did not, a compassionate and honest heart, capable of the love that he had denied himself since the day his wife, Raoul's mother died?

"Raoul, you are a grown man now. I cannot presume to tell you what to do, or whom you should marry…I only hope that you can think this through clearly before making a proposal that you one day wake from and regret. Be certain of your feelings before you…."

"Father, I have thought of this. I shall not want to rush into marriage, as much for Meg's sake as anyone's. Now, being entirely truthful, I must tell you that I am suiting Meg, and will make it known quietly so as not to raise suspicion as to her staying here in my guest room to recuperate. Certainly you can see the sense in that?" His father nodded, it would make it much more acceptable in the eyes of society.

"Now father, I must ask that you treat Meg with the same warmth and affection that you treated my sister's husband when they entered their engagement. Can I have your assurances?" His father nodded. "Very well, then let us raise our glasses…" His father did so hesitantly, "here's to the women in our life that brought us comfort, joy, and love…"

His father's mind flashed back to his mother, and then flying years back, he saw a glimpse of Claire…..the night they said their goodbyes…the tears…the embrace…that was the last time he had held her…held her against him as their child grew within her…if only he had stayed with her, maybe it would not have turned out so… He gasped, his eyes flying open. "Raoul, suddenly I do not feel much like dinner, please offer my apologies to our guests, I must retire." He stood and abruptly removed himself from the room, mounting the staircase to the upper chambers.

Entering his room he flung himself on his bed and gave into the emotions that welled within him. He was revolted by his own weakness, repulsed that he could be so moved to tears, but something in those moments filled with sobs, and knuckle-whitening grabs at his pillow in desperation, gave way to a release….a release of pent-up angst, pent-up sorrow, pent-up longing. How he missed the two gentle women who'd had the courage to love him. They had both given themselves to him willingly….loving him without doubt that they were loved in return. How he wished he could have saved Raoul's mother. But all the money in the world would not have stopped the disease that ravaged her body until she could no longer fight it. And Claire…whatever became of her…she had been such a beautiful soul. He could only hope that she had found love. He closed his eyes, perhaps a good night's rest would allow him to think more clearly. His callous exterior was merely a shroud for the breaking heart that lay beneath the surface.

XXX

Meg, Raoul, and Madame Giry sat rather quietly through dinner. The fourth place setting had been quickly removed by Madeline so as not to make the evening meal awkward. "Perhaps a good night's sleep will be a benefit for all of us." Madame Giry said, breaking the few minutes of uncomfortable silence that had settled upon them. "Perhaps," Raoul said reflectively. Their momentary joy had been tempered by his father's reaction.

The final dinner plates had been cleared. The trio had opted to pass on having dessert, taking their tea instead to the study. Madame Giry quickly excusing herself under the auspices of needing a bath from the trip into the city that day, thus allowing Meg and Raoul some much needed privacy.

Raoul watched as Madame Giry left the study, closing the door behind her. He turned, looking seriously, yet compassionately at Meg. Taking her hand in his, he began in a soft and reassuring tone, "Meg, do not worry for my father. He is a rather moody man, and his reaction is nothing but typical for him. If he has not made the decision for me, he requires a bit of time to adjust."

Meg was rubbing her stitched cheek; it had begun to itch. "Perhaps he is concerned about the scarring, or the fact that my family is not wealthy or any one of a hundred different things Raoul. Truly, he never accepted Christine, and she was nearly perfect, her voice, her stature, her father was at least a famous and respected violinist…."

Raoul was at once on his knees looking up into Meg's down-turned face. His jaw was squared as he looked into Meg's eyes. She looked longing at Raoul, his eyes twinkling in the reflection of the fire. He stood, lifting her into his arms.

"Megdaline Sarafina Giry, listen to me." He lifted her chin to look her directly in the eye. "I implore you, never speak so censoriously of yourself again. You are a graceful, sweet, gentle, loving young woman. It would be me that you would marry, not my father."

Meg tried to turn away for the shame of what she was hearing. Raoul put his hands gently but firmly on Meg's shoulders. "Meg I do not wish to marry based on any shallow thing that the flesh holds. It is what I feel in my heart when I close my eyes that matters most, and Meg….I love you."

Meg looked up at Raoul's tear stained cheeks. "Oh Raoul, I am sorry, I shouldn't have…I'm…" Raoul slipped one hand behind Meg's back, gently drawing her to him. With his other hand he carefully lifted Meg's chin up to look into her eyes. "Do not let us deny ourselves happiness Meg…" He leaned forward, her pale blue eyes twinkling as his lips met hers.

She closed her eyes, he pulled her closer to him. She was overwhelmed with the sensation of his touch. Raoul was gentle with her, yet she could feel so much yearning in his embrace. She leaned into Raoul, sliding her hands around his neck. After a few minutes Raoul opened his eyes again, pausing to look down at Meg.

"Here, let me take you to your mother's room, you must be tired, it has been a long day." Meg was indeed tired. Last night had been rather long even though she'd slept into the later part of the morning.

She looked up at Raoul whose face now held a broad smile as he looked over every inch of her face. "Raoul I…" He leaned down placing another kiss on her lips. This one was a bit more intense than the last, and Meg trembled from the sheer force of it. Raoul slid one arm around Meg's waist, the other around her back, pulling her as close to him as she had ever been. All at once he reached down pulling Meg up into his arms, holding her in his arms as he had at the winter house the night he'd first held her.

He carried her over to the window. From there they could see the statute that she and her mother had admired outside of her bedroom window. Tonight it was illuminated not by torch, but the gentle bathing of the cool crisp light of a full moon. He kissed her forehead as he pushed back the sheer window covering with his elbow so that they could both gaze out at the night sky. Meg had never felt so safe, so comfortable.

"Meg, I've not shared this with anyone before." Her pulse quickened. In the last days he'd confided so many things to her that he'd never entrusted to another soul. With the passing of each special thought or memory that Raoul conveyed to her, she felt their connection growing deeper, for surely he trusted her to keep his confidences. He was revealing himself to her on a level that was so very personal, so intimate. She was letting go of the doubts, one by one; they were being replaced by hope. Hope that they could one day really love one another. The road would be long and difficult. Yet they traveled it not alone, but side by side, and the destination…..only they could decide.

"Meg, when I was a little boy, my mother and I sat by that statute out in the garden at my father's house. It was her favorite." He smiled down at her. "She would tell me stories about the creatures on it. She was truly gifted in conjuring up stories for me, her imagination was quite prolific!" Tears began welling in his eyes, a lump had grown in his throat as he gazed at the statute. He let out a little gasp.

"Raoul?" Meg reached up her hand stroking his cheek. He looked down at her, the tilting of his head causing his tears to drop down his chin and onto Meg's collarbone. "I am sorry," Raoul put Meg down on her feet looking around for something to offer her. Meg reached out and took Raoul's hands, leading him back to the window.

"It is alright Raoul," she reached up rubbing her hand along her collarbone, not to remove the tears, but to blend them into her skin. Raoul looked down at her, a bit of disbelief in his eyes. His hand involuntarily reaching out to her stroking her collarbone. It slid behind her neck as he found himself once again kissing her in the pale light that spilled in through the window. He pulled Meg into an embrace, turning her head so that it faced the window, resting against his shoulder. "Do go one Raoul," He smiled, kissing the top of her head.

"The last story that my mother ever told me…..the last time she was well enough to walk to the garden with me…it is something I've never told anyone, not even my sister. Truly, she was a bit jealous of the time my mother and I spent in the garden by that statute. She preferred to wander around behind my father when he was home. They had much in common, both were serious, and she loved to listen to his stories about work, about society, and the like." Raoul shook his head.

"My mother told me the last story on a evening very much like this one, although a bit earlier in the evening of course." He smiled down at Meg who'd turned her head up slightly to catch the look in his eye. "She told me of….the woman I would marry." Meg felt herself starting to tense. Raoul sensed it, rubbing her back gently, his hand wandering up to the tips of her honey-blonde hair. He began running his fingers through it. "See how the woman has long hair, pulled back by a ribbon?" Meg looked out at the statute, "yes," she replied.

"My mother told me of the gentle, angelic, creature that I would one day marry. I remember it with near perfection…" he closed his eyes…he could hear her voice in his head as he began to repeat her words… "she shall have flowing blonde locks, eyes of sky blue, she shall be as dainty as a ballerina, she will love sipping tea with you in the garden, dabbling at watercolors, taking long carriage rides in the country, listening to you read, taking walks along the moor."

It hit Meg as though she'd been struck by a lightening bolt….that is what Raoul had been doing…. "Meg, my mother knew of you before I even did. She predicted you'd come into my life…how can I not believe that this was meant to be when the one person I loved and trusted most in this entire world, described you to me perfectly years before you were even born?"

Meg was smiling, though it made her cheek ache as it tugged at her stitches. She lifted her hand to it, trying to hold it in place. Raoul noticed her hand, and then a thought came to him. "Meg, I must show you something, though I fear that it may frighten you a bit, it is entirely eerie to me, though I think you must see it, lest you think I jest."

He took her hand and led her from the room. Slipping on her cloak from the closet, and his as well. He looked around. Though it was still quite early, the entire household had retired for the evening. They were the only two that still stirred. He quietly opened the door. Meg shivered as a rush of cool air circled her ankles. Raoul led her outside, quickly closing the door behind them. He led her over the sidewalks and down to the courtyard where the statute sat, surrounded by the shimmering crushed rocks. Soon they were in front of the statue. It was much larger up close, nearly eight feet tall, casting a shadow over their very presence.

"Up there, look at the face of this woman." Raoul said, turning Meg's head upward. She was surprised at how detailed the artist had been with the features of the hair, the chin, the ears, the gentle slope of the neck. "It is beautiful Raoul." She exclaimed in a breathy tenor.

"Meg, did you look carefully……look at her right cheek." Meg gasped. There on the cheek was a faint mark, a scraping away of the original stone sculpture, a mar in the surface, though only detectable if one searched for it.

Raoul stood with Meg in his arms, gently pulling her head to rest on his chest as they stared up at the figures. "Meg, that night as I held you by the window of that house…..I knew…..something in the depths of my heart…the depths of my soul….it cried out to me….you were the one that she had predicted." He smiled at her. "Meg it was destined to be…" He pulled her close. She was shivering.

Meg paused, looking back up at the figures as Raoul began leading her into the house. "You are cold my dear. Let us warm ourselves by the fire. Then I best get you to your mother's room. She'll begin to wonder why we've tarried so long."

Raoul looked over his shoulder. There was a carriage coming down the road leading to his house. "No doubt, that will be the doctor, coming to pay his nightly visit my dear." He leaned down kissing her atop her head and led her back into the house and into the study. Raoul walked back out to await the doctor's arrival.

Meg stood in that room, looking out the window at the approaching carriage. She ran her hand along the thread of the stitches, glancing over at the statute. "How very strange indeed." She said to herself. He had been thinking about her, about how she fit into his life, he'd been walking her through a carefully orchestrated set of events, and she'd passed the tests every step of the way, unknowingly. Something was strange, yet comforting about all of it. How could his mother have known? That was something, Meg decided, she would never understand, nor did she feel the need to. It was Raoul that had embraced it, and that is all that mattered.

Meg watched as Raoul walked down and shook the doctor's hand. He had reached out and put a reassuring arm on Raoul's shoulder as he accompanied him up the walk and into the house.

"I think you will find your patient quite well this evening." Raoul said as he led the doctor into the study. "I shall leave the two of you alone." He smiled at Meg as he pulled to door closed.

The doctor turned to Meg, "so young miss, how are you feeling this evening?" He smiled at her as he took off his cloak and came to rest in the chair across from her. "I see the color has returned to your cheeks….if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were glowing!"

Meg was indeed blushing, the doctor knew. She could tell by the look on his face. "I am feeling quite well this evening doctor….what did Raoul tell you that you smile so?"

The doctor laughed a little. "Do not worry Meg, I've been keeping Raoul's confidences for years." She smiled at him coyly as he began removing the first of her bandages. "He told me that I might offer you my congratulations…that your mother had given her consent." Meg nodded as he lifted her arm closer to his eyes.

"Incredible. It is healing so very well. No sign of infection." "I am very happy sir. I worry only now about his father's reaction, I fear he did not receive the news well….in fact he discovered the three of us in…"

The doctor interrupted her. "Yes, Raoul told me of it. I dare say that his father needs to be a bit more discreet, not nosing about his son's house as though it were his own." Meg nodded in agreement. "This one is also healing well Meg. I am most certain that you shan't even have a scar here." He wrapped it once again. "Now, let's have a look at that cheek shall we?" He brought the lamp closer to Meg, leaning in closely. "Yes, the stitches are still tight, it seems to be coming along nicely as well. Are you still putting on the salve as instructed?" Meg nodded. "It looks very good my dear, very good indeed."

He returned the lamp to its place, and himself to the chair across from hers. "And how are you feeling? Are you sleeping well?" For the first time that evening she found her mind wandering back to that hideous dream. The look on her face told the physician what he needed to know. "Did you make use of the pills I gave you?"

Meg nodded, "yes, just one." He reached out and touched her knee. "Meg, do not worry, that is why I gave them to you. They will help you get through these first weeks." He looked at Meg whose face had gone ashen. "Was it a difficult dream?"

Meg nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. "Frightening." She said looking back up at him. "Meg, they will diminish with time. As you relax, become more familiar with the safety and comfort of your surroundings, the frequency and intensity of the dreams will fade." He paused and then continued.

"You are quite safe here Meg, and you must know now that Raoul will do everything in his power to help you through this." Meg nodded. "Now then, you should get some rest. I've need to talk to Raoul for a few minutes."

The doctor rose, Meg following him to the door. "Thank you…for what you did last evening for Raoul." The doctor spun around looking at Meg, surely Raoul would not have told her of his injection. "He slept most comfortably I understand. Perhaps your visit with him gave him some reassurances." The doctor smiled, "yes, perhaps it did. Good evening to you miss Meg, I shall see you on the morrow."

Meg watched out the window as Raoul escorted the doctor back to his carriage, pausing to talk for a few minutes in the middle of the walk. Soon he was on his way back into the house, and the doctor was on his way as well. Raoul deposited his cloak on the hook by the door, returning to the study where Meg waited for him. He came in and embraced her.

"I understand you are healing well, that is wonderful." He smiled at her as his hand slid down into hers. "Now, I've instructions to see you off to bed. The doctor insisted that we both needed our rest."

They traveled up the stairs, Raoul leading Meg down to her mother's room. At the door Meg stood facing him. He leaned down kissing her on the cheek. "Goodnight my dear, sleep well."

Meg was turning to enter the room when she stopped. She'd not taken her pill that evening, and didn't want to repeat the horrors of the previous evening. She looked hesitantly at Raoul, deciding she'd wait until he retired before she retrieved them. "Goodnight, I shall see you in the morning…perhaps on the morrow we will…" Raoul finished her sentence, "take a ride in the countryside." He smiled at her. She nodded and ducked into her room.

Raoul sighed as he headed to his own quarters. He stopped briefly to peek out the hall window. He was happy to see that the guards were posted as instructed. He'd sleep better tonight. The day had been eventful, but for once, in a great many days, he was happy with the results. As the sun set on this day, it had been a memorable one….for the right reasons.

XXXXX

Christine had slipped her arm through Erik's as they walked up the path that led to the house. Their carriage rattling off toward the carriage house. The house looked inviting from the outside. Peering through the window Christine could see that all of the canvases had been removed, revealing Erik's exquisite selection of elegant décor.

"Christine, if you do not mind, I would very much like to visit with Nadir…we need to take care of Sara's arrangements." Christine said, "but of course Erik, take as much time as you need. I should like very much to take a bath. I hope that the staff have been able to prepare for this request. I know it seems a bit much all things considered, but I have need to soak a bit I think."

Erik smiled at her. This would give he and Nadir time for a long visit. Though Sara would be among the topics they discussed, it would not be the first item of business. He needed Nadir's help sorting out the events of the evening. No one but Nadir understood him, thought like him, or could help him the way Nadir did.

As they walked into the house Nadir stood and came to the entrance of the parlor. Sitting down his glass of sherry. "Christine," he reached out, kissing both of her cheeks. "How are we feeling?" Christine blushed, covering her stomach, replied "we are feeling quite well thank you."

Turning next to Erik, who was returning from hanging up their cloaks, "Erik my friend, I've looked forward to seeing you tonight, we've much to discuss about…" "Yes, I know. Christine has most graciously agreed to allow us a long while to sort things out." Christine nodded as she moved toward the stairs.

Erik was at once at her side, leaning over to brush a kiss affectionately on her cheek. She blushed. "Now you two do not stay up too late tonight." She gently instructed glancing toward Nadir and then Erik, "I shall miss him at my side." Erik looked down at the ground, a bit embarrassed. He knew full well that Nadir would chide him for her comment.

"Good night Christine, sleep well." Nadir called after her. She smiled back after him, and nodded to Erik as he watched her disappear around the corner of the banister.

"She does love you Erik, it oozes out of every pore of her really." Erik turned to smile at Nadir. "Yes, I am a truly fortunate man."

Nadir marveled at how Erik had become comfortable without his mask. He neither favored one side or the other, nor did he try to hide. Something had changed in the last two days, and Nadir felt the need to discover what it was.

Erik led Nadir back into the parlor, pulling the doors closed. "Nadir I've much to tell you. Some parts of this are likely my mind at work against my sanity, but parts are a bit unsettling now. I know you've come to discuss Sara, and I promise you we shall before we retire, but first, with your permission, may I unburden myself?"

Nadir nodded. His questions could wait if they needed to…there was always tomorrow, and Erik had never made such a polite request before…perhaps Christine had been a good influence on his demeanor as well Nadir mused to himself.

Erik motioned for Nadir to sit, bringing his glass of sherry to him. He'd not poured one for himself, and tonight he wouldn't he wanted to be entirely clear when he recanted what had happened. "Come do tell," Nadir said as he took a sip of his sherry. "Very well," Erik began.

It had seemed like minutes only, but Nadir distinctly heard the chimes of the grandfather clock that stood in the other room strike eleven times. "Is that Christine's clock?" Nadir inquired. Erik nodded his head. "Well," Nadir said standing and walking over to the fire. "This is indeed a development isn't it?" Erik was staring into the fire. "What do you intend to do Erik?"

"We shall stay here as long as Christine desires. As the weather warms, I have no doubt she will long for the cooling breezes from the sea, but I shall stay as long as she feels need to." Erik's look turned cold. "I shall try to avoid the woman if I am able." He looked at the flickering flames of the fire. "It disturbs Christine, and I shan't want to do that while she is in such a delicate condition." Both he and Nadir knew that his statement was true only in part, for it disturbed Erik if not more, than at the very least equally.

Nadir nodded. "How is she coping with the visions…the dreams? Does she sleep at night? Does she eat well? Is she afraid?" Nadir looked seriously at Erik, "Have they begun coming to her while she is awake?" Secretly Nadir hoped the answer to the last question was no.

Erik stood coming along side Nadir. "She has decided to face them…she wants to discover what they mean, not run from them. That is half the battle isn't it….accepting them instead of running from them."

Nadir nodded. "She is a strong young woman indeed Erik. I've known this to drive the beholder quite mad. If she can manage to face them, embrace them, she will be all the stronger for it." Erik nodded in agreement. He needed to change the conversation before he dwelled on the subject to the point of his own madness.

"Now Nadir, will you agree to seek out that woman for me? It will likely be difficult to find her alone, since her daughter and grand daughter will be quite vigilant about keeping her inside in light of her recent behavior."

Nadir nodded. Secretly he was marveling at the possibilities. Perhaps this woman had been from a neighboring village, had known De Chagny when he was younger, could perhaps shed some light on a path for Nadir to follow. He knew it was unlikely that it was more than a passing coincidence. It was far more likely that the woman had spent some time in Paris, or had read the name somewhere. Yes, he decided, that was far more likely.

"When I am in the village arranging for Sara's transport, I shall see what I can find." Erik exhaled. "Thank you Nadir, you are a true friend. I will rest a bit easier if I know the woman is but mad." Erik shook his head, it was unlike him to find comfort in the suffering of another. He said, "It is ironic how confirmation of her insanity, will restore mine!" Erik smiled at Nadir. "Now, let us get some rest. I am quite certain you must be weary from your travels." Nadir nodded as he and Erik walked side by side out of the parlor.

"Good night then Erik, I shall see you in the morning." "Goodnight my friend, sleep well." He paused, looking back at Nadir. "It is good to have you here again." Erik said smiling at Nadir. They were steps away from each other, each headed in opposite directions when Nadir turned around.

"Erik?" Erik turned looking back at Nadir, "what is it?" Nadir swallowed. "What was it that made you choose this house…in this place?" Erik walked back toward him a few steps.

"Truly," he said reflectively running his hand along the wall, looking up at the ceiling, wainscoting, the hard-wood floors. "I passed it every time I paid you a visit. It had set empty for so many years, neglected. It was a diamond in the rough."

Erik's gaze became distant as though he were peering back through time to recapture his decision. "I needed to find a place far from Paris….from Persia that I could inhabit.  
A place where I neither commanded respect nor instilled fear. A place where I could live in utter obscurity. There was something oddly familiar about Chauesser. I cannot put my finger on it exactly, it just seemed like home to me." Erik shook his head, furrowing his brow. "I am aware how ridiculous that sounds coming from me….home…." he huffed.

Nadir looked at him with empathy, Erik had never known what the word home truly meant…it had simply been beyond his frame of reference. "The park, especially at night…it called to me." Erik shook his head again as if to shake off the blanket of memories that flooded over him. "I'd hoped one day to make my home here…to one day bring Christine here…it was my wildest, though impossible dream." Erik huffed, a disgusted tone now taking over his voice, "if ever I decided to live in the land of the living again." Erik stared at Nadir. "Why do you ask?"

"It has always puzzled me, and I've never thought to ask before that is all. She truly is a beauty. I can see why Christine would want to stay here. She is likely starting to feel a bit like a nesting bird."

A broad smile crossed Erik's face, "indeed my friend….indeed. Good night." The pair parted ways. Nadir was smiling fiercely. He had to find that woman in the morning if he could, for she could hold the key…just the key he needed.

**Author's Notes:**

**DarkMoonLightBright**: Thank you for the compliments…I am blushing a bit! I dare say things have settled into a comfortable lull. We've all needed a reprieve from the stress these poor people have been under don't you think? Now, yes, 'The Music of the Night' is a beautiful, beautiful piece of music….and then to be sung by someone like Gerard, it makes it even more magnificent. The fact that this man is not a trained singer, makes the roughness of some of the parts even more wonderful because his voice…his talent is so raw. I admire him in so many ways….he was trained as a lawyer…never trained as an actor or musician…that is how you know the talent is real…if one can do that without any formal training….well…..I've seen plenty of actors who went to the finest schools who should probably get a refund on their tuition because they have no business in being in that profession! But our beloved Gerard…he is a natural talent, and at no point during the POTO did I ever question that he WAS the PHANTOM! Yes, I am in love with that song…I walk every day during my lunch hour, and I play that song over and over again. People must think I'm nuts when they drive by and see me smiling dreamily from ear to ear as I walk…oh well….it just reinforces my reputation I guess! Thank you for enjoying this story with me. I do not think I can improve on the movie…it was entirely wonderful…but truth be told…I simply could not live with that ending…Erik and Christine had to be together…that is why I started writing this story! I never dreamt it would be this long, but then again, I never imagined some of the twists and turns…they just come to me as we go along. Ah yes…Erik when the baby arrives…can you just imagine! He loves that little one so much now…I can only imagine what he will be like when he actually can get his hands on it! Have a great day!

**PhantomFan13:** Please, no bursting….I don't want to lose a phamily member! Yes, there are things brewing for everyone it seems just now, and no doubt when things start to let loose, it will look like a snow storm! It is good to hear you are doing volunteer work, that is what makes the world go round! It is wonderful that you can put in your hours with something that you obviously love so much…it makes it that much easier to be enthusiastic about it. I was laughing when I read the name your friend's family called her. Tinie? Well, no doubt she has outgrown that by now. Yes, some families really like to keep all of the children with the same letter of the alphabet. I have a friend who had five siblings and all of their names started with M. Then, I have another family that I knew that came to this country from Somalia, and they loved the name David so much that they named all eight of their sons…you guessed it….David! They each had a different middle name, and that is what they actually called them. Funny how that all works sometimes. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Try not to get too sore on those horses, and give the poor pony a break…he was probably just trying to get back at you for riding him!

**Poettzproblem**: I love your reviews. You always seem to cut to the chase! Yes, the love cup does overflow right now for Meg and Raoul, and you will no doubt have found chapter 104 to be no different. But alas, you are right, the gentle calm cannot last forever… Let me see, over thinkers in history…Benjamin Franklin, George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Einstein, Aristotle, Galileo, Sir Isaac Newton, Plato, Socrates, Madame Curie, Emerson, Walden…. The list could go on and on. Without these so called "over thinkers" this world would not be the same, so keep on "over thinking" who knows where it might take you!

**PhantomLover05**: Hmmmm, it makes sense to me now, it helps you to track things. Well, we all have our habits it seems. As for Madame Giry's and Raoul's secret plan…that will be revealed in the next few days…but right now there are a few other pressing issues to clear up first! Now, as for my age….well I can tell you that I am neither young….nor old…. I am still looking for the love of my life, therefore I am not old. To have read so much, experienced so much, to own a house, have three jobs, travel so much, I therefore could not be too young…. So, I am "ageless" for right now. The origins of my name…well…I have to say I've never been asked before, but I shall try. I wanted Phantom in the name, because it was after all the Phantom which brought me to the fanfiction web site. I wanted dreamer in my name, because, well….I've always been one. Angel is part of the name because I have a fond adoration and respect for the creatures, as you may be able to tell from the way they keep popping up in the story. So, putting them all together I came up with the name….and I think it suits me…I do dream one day of finding an angel to spend my life with…and alas if he could look like our beloved Phantom….I would be one, happy, happy, girl!

**Diveprincess**: Glad to hear you have your cast off…boy…that was quick! Don't worry about James. If he is a true friend, he will be over it in no time. He might be a bit edgy because guys sometimes feel responsible for things that they really have no control over. He might be feeling guilty that you got hurt when he was with you, and he's feeling like should have been able to protect you somehow. Sometimes that makes them mad, and they say hurtful things. I don't know why it happens that way, but I've seen it a number of times. I guess what I'm trying to say is, don't take whatever he said too personally because he might actually be feeling really guilty and it just came out all wrong.

Yes, I'll add Gulliver's to my list. I love chandeliers, yet another one of my obsessions! I only have one in my house, and it is the original from when it was built in 1918. I just cannot bring myself to replace it…it is sort of like family now because in truth it has watched as all the families that have lived there were married, raised their children, it witnessed the aging and death of its owners, and then as other families did the same…yes, I am a sentimental schmuck! So, Gulliver's will be right up my alley…and of course, we all know I have a thing for statues…alas…there are several in our story!

You take care of yourself, and don't worry, things will be better soon…remember they can't keep a good (wo)man down!

**Hopelesslyobsessed**: You're already on your 7th time? I think so far I've watched Dracula three or four dozen times. It doesn't take me all that long because I have my favorite parts that I fast-forward to, so I've got it down to like a half hour to watch the parts I like best! But yes, our dear Gerry is talented. He can be entirely believable, and entirely so GERRY in every role he plays. All I can say is whoever snags him as a mate someday is going to be one VERY lucky lady! Now, don't go out and get the movie 'Timeline' or you will be very conflicted. There our dearest Gerry also wears a cape/coat and it is an entirely different type of movie, but alas, it still has the same GERRY factor!

O.K., the portrait of Raoul's father hung in the parlor at Raoul's house. There will be more to that part of the story in coming chapters. Yes, Meg and Raoul are a cute couple. They are so very different from Christine and Erik, which is interesting because if they are brothers……well, I don't want to spoil the story now do I? And yes, the old lady. I have plans for her. Remember, no one comes into the story without a purpose….And last of course, the warm fuzzy feeling…yes, I get it too. I wish everyone in the world could have a love and appreciation for someone like that…we'd all be sooooo much happier.

Hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Stellalorilai**: Oh how your little phamily has missed you! We were going to send out an APB on you. Yes, I can understand, life can get really busy sometimes, and it demands our full attention. I sometimes feel that way when I don't get to write or respond to e-mails over the weekend, but work we must! I'm glad you've had a chance to get caught up on the chapters. Yes, I can hardly wait myself to see how Meg reacts….no doubt because it was a combined effort on Raoul and her mother's part, it will be very special to her, and no doubt, firm up in her mind that Raoul's intentions are sincere. Oh….I am excited now! Yes, Erik's past is starting to reveal itself, and it may affect him in more ways than anyone ever realized…..


	106. Laying in Wait

Chapter 106 Laying in Wait 

Erik tip-toed into the room, carefully drawing the door closed behind him. There were but a few small candles lit. He moved quietly, not wanting to disturb Christine if she were already asleep. He peered behind the silk curtains that encircled the bed, but she was not there. He smiled as he glanced over and saw the sliver of light coming from beneath the door to the water closet.

It was quiet as he approached the door. Surely she'd fallen asleep in the comfort of the soothing heavily scented and salted water. He opened the door, slipping into the small room. His suspicions proved correct as he found her sound asleep, up to her elbows in frothy bubbles. Her hair daintily pulled up behind her in a silk scarf. She looked like a sleeping angel to him. Oh how he hated to disturb her, but knew that he must. He slipped his hand into the water. It was still very warm. His mind immediately drifting back to the night they spent at the Candlelight Inn. There they'd been on their honeymoon, in fact, it could very well have been there that their child had been conceived.

He reached down gently nudging Christine's shoulder. She didn't move, but sighed sweetly. Still she slept. Erik stood above her admiring how comfortable she was. The water was inviting, and he'd had half a mind to join her. Alas the basin wasn't nearly as large, and he feared he'd spill the contents of it if he attempted to. Instead, he pulled out several large bath sheets, removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and reached in lifting Christine into the towels. At first she struggled, confused by the movement, and then she realized it was Erik. "My dear sweet Erik," she mumbled as he carried her over to the bed.

He removed her scarf, letting her tendrils fall around her shoulders as he laid her back to rest. He carefully dried each hand, arm, ankle, foot, knee, running his hand over her stomach. Christine woke, smiling sleepily at him, "Erik, I can…." Erik put his finger up to her lips. "Shhh…after all, it is my turn!" pulling the covers up over her. He leaned down kissing her temple as she drifted off to sleep once again. Yes, he'd thought about a proper nightdress, but knew it would only wake her further should he insist.

He gazed admiringly down at her sleeping face. He ran his finger along the curves of her cheek. It was growing slightly fuller, and he thought it suited her. Changing into his bedclothes, he slipped beneath the covers. Nestling in closely to Christine, he pulled her into his arms. He found his hand protectively resting over her mid-section. He couldn't help but marvel at the feeling of the small lump of flesh in her abdomen. He rubbed his hand over and over it again.

He listened as Christine began to mumble something. Though he couldn't make it out, he could see that she was smiling. She slid her hand down to join his. A tear escaped Erik's eye that night as he lay holding her…he was eternally grateful to have this woman in his arms, and he was entirely certain, he'd come to love her a little more each day.

XXXX

"No, you must retire grandmother, you need your rest!" The young woman closed the door behind her as she left the room, latching it soundly.

"I feel guilty locking her in as though she were a wild animal mother. Isn't there something that can be done?" Her mother shook her head sadly. "I've never seen her quite this disturbed. She is so very convinced that she knows the poor man. She's never been this adamant before, I fear her condition has worsened. The doctor assures me there's nothing to be done, except protect her from harming herself or someone else."

The daughter sat crying at the table. How she wished she'd been there those years for her mother when she lived alone. Had she and her husband not lived so far away then, maybe she would be well today, maybe she'd still have her mind. Now, there was nothing there except this shell of a woman, tinkering in a past that never existed. She'd barely exhisted, and now she sat locked up in a room for her own protection. The granddaughter sat next to her mother on the bench. "Do not worry mother, all will be well, all will be well."

XXXXX

Nadir waited. Trying to stay awake while being perfectly still was difficult after such a long day. The bed was particularly inviting. He struggled with the temptation of lying down to rest on it. Oh how many nights he and Erik had spent quietly waiting. Waiting until the rest of the world was asleep. They had perfected their disappearing act, but tonight Nadir did not need to disappear, he needed to retrieve that picture, lest it be found. There would be no mistaking the picture. It would raise far too many questions that remained yet unanswered.

Nadir retrieved his pocket watch, opening the face. It was nearly midnight. He quietly made his way to the window, peering out he could still see the shadow cast by the light from the window in the room below his. Someone was still awake. He returned to his chair, reclining slightly. He would wait, it was far too important The temptation to sleep would not rob him of his opportunity to do what he knew must be done.

He sat patiently analyzing over and over in his mind what the two men had told him. DeChagny spoke of a village hours from Paris, a small rather formal town. A man of position would surely want to put his son in a village with class and culture for his summer away. Erik felt drawn to the town, it reminded him of something. Erik had been with the gypsies since he was four or five… Based on what he surmised De Chagny's age might be, that would make the situations nearly a perfect match. This woman who stalked Erik in the streets, she was an old woman…far too old to be his…mother…Claire would not be that aged.

It puzzled Nadir. Why would Claire's father have left the child in that city? Why wouldn't he have sent him off to an orphanage in a distant city? Perhaps he knew the family would never return, or perhaps he thought the child would die, and this left the fewest number of questions. It was difficult to imagine his motives. Perhaps it was not as it seemed and it was merely a set of events that paralleled but were completely unrelated.

Nadir shook his head. Perhaps it was nothing at all. But how odd that all of these things should unknowingly fall into place. Chauesser was five and a half hours from Paris. Far enough to not be influenced by DeChagny name, but not too far that he could not have been quickly retrieved should the need have arisen. But the old woman….how did she fit into this picture? It made no sense. Erik had spoken of being raised by his mother, a mean surly woman. Nadir settled in his mind that he would simply have to find the woman Erik spoke of. To talk to her before he could make any assessments. Finding her would be the trick, he knew very little about her, save what little description Erik had given him. Nadir closed his eyes briefly. The thought of all the events described floating through his mind.

He heard a large thud in the room below his. Nadir carefully made his way to the window. Looking out, he could see that the light had been turned down. In but a few minutes he would be free to make his way to the sunroom.

When he was confident that all had gone to bed, he carefully removed his shoes. Stocking feet allowed for much more agility, and a much softer stride. It took minutes for him to open and close his door without sound. Patience was a key ingredient when one needed to travel undetected.

Slowly, painstakingly he made his way, step, by careful step, down the hall. He needed to pass the master bedroom. Doing so took a particularly long time as Erik was behind that door, and Nadir knew of his keen senses. Finally, after nearly twenty minutes time, he found himself in the sunroom.

Nadir carefully pulled a chair over to the wall, reaching up to the shelf where he'd placed the picture. He stretched, carefully padding around with his hand. At first a panic began to set in as his hand discovered nothing. Then he felt it. He let out a relieved sigh. Carefully he took the picture down, glancing at it in the small bit of moonlight that filtered into the room. "Erik…" he muttered under his breath. He slipped the photo into his breast pocket.

Warily he dismounted the chair, putting it back in place so as to make the room appear undisturbed. Nadir stood staring out at the night sky. This room was lovely even in the moonlight. No doubt Erik had designed it to be enjoyed at all hours of the day, for truly that was among Erik's many gifts. There was a small pond just beyond the tree line; it glimmered in the surreptitious light of the moon. Nadir sighed. His physical exhaustion bid him retire, the comfort of the bed beckoned him. There was much to be done, and as beautiful as the night was, he needed his rest. He turned to go from the room.

"Good evening my friend," came Erik's wraithlike voice from the shadows. "What brings you to this room in the dark of night?" Nadir gasped. Though he desperately tried to cover his obvious horror of being laid bare, he knew Erik would intuitively question him. "Erik! You gave me a fright, do you not recall that I am an old man that could have…"

Erik's eyes were fixed in serious position directly on Nadir. "How long have you been standing there Erik?" his voice quivering in obvious trepidation. "Long enough friend….long enough."

XXXX

Meg leaned against the closed door. She let out a gasp. The night had been long….so much had happened, so much reason to shed tears of happiness at the very thought of it. But it was not that which occupied her mind now.

She thought about the previous night's dream, and how she'd not taken her medicine this very night. She needed the bottles in her bedroom. She could retrieve them, taking them back with her to her mother's room. No one would be the wiser, and she'd be able to sleep.

Moving over to where her mother already lay sound asleep, she called out softly "Mother?" There was no response. Meg made her way over to the cot that Raoul had brought in for her. She quickly changed into the nightgown that was laid out. She looked at it with question, she didn't remember seeing that nightgown before, but then again, she'd not memorized all of the garments in the closet.

She patted the bandages that the doctor had changed for her. He'd already dressed the wounds, she'd no need to disturb them tonight. She walked to the door, putting her ear lightly against the grain of the wood for a long while. Hearing no sound, she settled on venturing down the hall to the room where she'd been staying….to the drawer that held her momentary salvation.

Stopping several times to look back over her shoulder, she made her way down the dark hallway to the room she had occupied only the night before. Once at the door, seeing that it was tightly latched, she knew that it would take some time to open it without sound. She warily turned the handle, pushing the door open. Swiftly disappearing inside, she closed the door behind her.

Without light her task would be more difficult, but she thought she had spent enough time in the room to move through it by memory alone. She had no idea where the wax spill lay, and no want to carelessly slip on it. She reached out her hands trying to find the divan that was not but a few feet from the door. She felt about but could find nothing. She took several more chary steps, hand outstretched in front of her, yet still nothing. She began thrashing her arms around in front of her as though she were blind, taking several additional steps.

Abruptly her arm hit upon something. Running her hand along the surface she quickly identified the object. It was the mirror Raoul had of his mother's. But how is it that she should find it there? Meg supposed they'd moved the remaining furniture to one side of the room to allow for proper cleaning. She continued on, reaching out. The bedpost, she knew for a fact was three paces from the window. She reached out and continued, three paces, then four, then five. Was her mind playing tricks on her? Meg was confounded. Even if everything had been moved to one side of the room or the other, surely she'd have run into something by now!

Traveling another dozen precarious steps, Meg soon found herself on the opposite side of the room. She was perplexed. Reaching out she pulled on the heavy drapery that hung over the window. The fabric in her hand toppled to the ground, revealing an entirely open window. "Where are the curtains?" Meg uttered under her breath. It was not until she turned to face the door on the opposite side of the room, that it occurred to her what had happened.

She smiled, a sad smile. The room, save the mirror that had belonged to Raoul's mother, was wholly empty. Even the curtains had been removed, and the windows covered by the heavy blanket that Meg had managed to pull free. Tears ran down Meg's cheeks….he'd done this for her.

She moved freely now back toward the door, the moonlight that poured into the room through the uncovered window lighting her way. For Raoul's sake, she'd pretend she'd seen none of it.

Meg made her way down the hall and back once more into her mother's room. She quietly turned down the lamp and retiring to the cot she pulled the covers over her shoulder. As she was drifting off to sleep, she raised several prayers. One for Raoul. One for her mother, for Nadir, even for Raoul's father. She winced as she thought of Christine and Erik. She'd no idea how long it would be before she would be able to see either of them again. She prayed that they would be safe and well.

Her mind wandered back to the empty room. She'd not complained. Suddenly she felt guilty for the thoughts she'd even had about the many fine furnishings that were now obviously removed. No doubt he'd have plans to refurnish the room, or perhaps move her to another.

Meg stopped, maybe he'd simply had the items moved out so that they could clean the floors. Surely that was it. Meg felt silly as she thought of that most obvious explanation. No one would rid themselves of such fine things.

She shook her head. As she rolled over on her side, rubbing her cheek, she thought once more about the pills. She'd no idea where the little night table might be in that large house…..the table could have gone anywhere…she raised another little prayer that she'd sleep through the night, and not need the additional aid, for she'd no idea where to even begin looking for it.

XXXX

The boy was peering into the carriage house behind the Inn. He'd seen the activity with the officers earlier in the day. Surely they were looking at the carriage for some reason, and had made it all too easy to retrieve it. Surely they'd have taken it if they'd suspected…but he wasn't entirely sure, and he could not be too careful.

Last night had proved to be a restless night under the tree, and it had been fruitless as well. He'd not had opportunity to confirm that it was indeed the woman, though he suspected it was her. The buzz about the Starboard had spoken of a woman at the DeChagny mansion, and Raoul's quick defense of her life.

He'd watched with careful eye, DeChagny had not come from the house once evening had arrived and he knew he'd never get out alive during the light of day. Though he had every need to avenge his father, his brother, his own sense of self preservation garnered the larger share of his present will.

He would try again. But tonight, he'd have to see about retrieving that carriage. It was the legacy of the Crawlings family, and if he could not soon avenge his father and brother's deaths, he'd need to find his way to another city, another place, until such time he could return and catch them unaware.

Author's Notes:

**Lirel-eris**: Yes, we were worried about you! Thank you for your kind words regarding the story. I think the reason I update so often, and so much, is because I have been on the other end of stories where you wait and wait, and wait, and then finally the next book arrives, you've nearly lost interest. So, if I'm going to lose a reader it will be because they no longer enjoy the story…not because I've left them hanging! (Hopefully I don't bore anyone to the point of abandonment!)

I am happy to hear you are liking Raoul's development. The more I watch the movie…the more compassion I feel in my heart for him. Yes, he was a pretentious fop, but had Erik not been in the picture, perhaps no one would have thought him a bad match for Christine…perhaps he would rather have been like Prince Charming….so, I do want him to have some resolution, some happiness in his life, though it may not be an easy road. Truly, what one suffers for, one appreciates most! Each night as I sit down to my computer, candles burning, POTO blaring, I try to get into the mood of the time period…and I feel very close to these characters…almost like a family that I visit in the dark of my library. It may seem a bit strange, but that is how I find myself best able to connect with what I would be feeling if I were in their shoes. Raoul struggled with his emotions over Christine…finally letting her go…and then realized he'd had feelings for Meg. I'm glad you liked that he offered the picture to Madame Giry as a gift to Stephan and Elizabeth….time will tell if that picture actually makes it there! I am equally glad you are enjoying the E/C moments in the story. It make me smile each time one reveals itself in the story….one can only imagine being that much in love! And last, yes, Raoul's poor father. He is a sad sort isn't he? Yes, he has a tough exterior, and you could be right, perhaps friendship…true friendship, will provide him an opportunity to be at peace.

Now, Madame Giry and Nadir…it is something that defies all the odds really, they are both loyal now to both camps…how they will resolve it, if they can, shall be very interesting.

Erik and Raoul…yes…it is interesting to think about…but I must stay tight-lipped on the subject just now! Sorry… To answer your question about POTO…yes, I've seen it on stage a number of times. Now I know that there is definitely a camp of people who would like to throw stones at me for what I am about to say, but here goes. I did like the different versions I saw on stage. They were intense, heart-felt, well done, and moving. But…I loved the movie version best of all. There is simply no way to do what was done in the movie on a small stage, or without the size of orchestra they had when they made the film. And some of the added scenes such as the swordfight that was not in the stage version, or the twists that they gave to each character, well, there is a reason it costs millions upon millions to make a movie. In this case….I believe it embodied the story in a way which will be appreciated by so many more than would ever have known it. Those of us who enjoy reading a good story, attending plays, and the like, are in the minority when you consider the population over all, so I am immensely pleased that they brought it to the big screen for everyone to partake of. Perhaps it will peak the interests of some to go out and buy a book and read it! The book itself is good though I dare say Gaston's version has been much improved upon over the years by those that followed him.

Now, about mythology. Having been a student of Latin, I delved quite easily into Greek Mythology. I loved everything about the culture, the characters, the mystique. The idea that creatures were imbued with powers that controlled weather, love, death, etc. was quite intriguing. Sadly, I've never read anything from Irish Mythology….yet anyway! Sorry for the long reply…I couldn't leave your questions unanswered!

**Nidia**: HOLA! Nosotros estamos felices tener usted en nuestro "Phantomfamilia!" Yo hablo un poco español . ¿Habla inglés? Lo siento, yo comprendo nada muchas escriba español . No sé todas palabras! Soy de los Estados Unidos! Venezuela es muy bonita! Me encanta Gerry Butler también! Yo escribo mas mañana para ti! Buenas noches!

**Hybrid Knightress**: Thank you for the compliment. I am happy that you are finding Meg and Raoul to be a suitable couple. It was hard to imagine them together at first, but is all part of a grand plan…and I hope everyone enjoys the ride! I rather enjoy a variety of music, movies, and literature myself. This world is so full of many wonderful things, it would be hard not to dabble a little in all of it! I can go from listening to opera, to Christian rock, to Jazz, to Frank Sinatra, the Backstreet Boys…so you see…I can understand your eclectic personality too! Though I must say I do have my favorites…and right now the Phantom has my heart!

**Poetzproblem:** Thank you for the encouragement. Yes, our Raoul seems to be getting over Christine nicely, and you are right, I wonder how solid his promise is once he learns of her deception, if ever he does….His mother's prediction was a little bit eerie I agree, it makes his acceptance of his new love much easier for him, because his mother had been the only person who had truly loved, and trusted. Hope you enjoy this chapter!


	107. A Secret's Cost

Chapter 107 A Secret's cost 

Nadir hesitated. He stammered, "Erik, I left something here, when I was here last, I'd put it on the upper shelf for safekeeping." Nadir was thinking quickly what he might have in his pocket that he could produce if Erik required it. It was now a game of bluff, and he held out his hand for Erik to call.

Erik moved from the shadows into the room, bringing the door closed behind them. Never, in all the time that Nadir had known Erik, had he been on the receiving end of Erik's wrath, frankly it was terrifying. He'd watched Erik before, stalk his prey, toy with it, before going in for the metaphorical kill, but somehow, being on the outside watching was much different than being on the inside, watching as he moved closer and closer.

He knew he should not fear Erik, and perhaps he did not, it was the situation that made terror course through his very veins. His heart pounded so hard in his chest, Nadir thought with a great degree of certainty, that the pulsating was visible from the exterior.

"Nadir, it has been a great many years since you and I made our acquaintance. In all of those years, I've come to trust you, as friend, as guide, as confidante." Erik was slowly, stealthily, walking in an ever smaller circle around Nadir. He continued, "now, I am feeling a bit at odds. I sense you've something to tell me, something you would withhold from me that which I ought to know."

Nadir sat perfectly still. He did not know how to respond to Erik. If in doubt, silence was the better of the choices he thought. Erik moved in ever closer until he'd walked passed Nadir and stood before the window, gazing out into the darkness of the night. Instead of further questions, Erik began to speak.

"Nadir, it was you who I first trusted, you who I first sought out when I could neither care for myself, nor find any peace. Those years we shared in Persia, it was you and you alone I dared reveal myself to. We've been through much together my friend, much I shan't share with another breathing soul." Erik turned looking at Nadir seriously. "I can sense it, something troubles you now, even as we sit in utter privacy, there is something which you cannot tell me." Erik looked down, and for the first time in a great many years, he knew there was something that could not be shared between them. "When you are ready my friend, you will come to me. Seek me out in the light of day, or the dark of night, whenever you need me, I shall be there for you, as you have been there for me so many times."

Erik walked over, placing his hand firmly on Nadir's shoulder, squeezing it with his iron grip. Looking down once more he said, "good night my friend, sleep well." Then he walked passed Nadir opening and closing the door behind him as he left.

Nadir let out a long staggered breath. If only Erik knew that which he did not…it was for the better that he did not know. Nadir was grateful that he'd not had to produce something for Erik to see, for the only other thing he had in his pocket was the page of script that he had of Meg's. That would have produced no less a shock to Erik than the picture. Nadir wiped his brow, he'd broken out into a cold sweat.

He rose, looking out the window once more before he moved toward the door. In his wildest imagination, his worst fear had been that one of the servants would find the picture. What he'd just come closest to was beyond his greatest fear. The shock of such information would have been more than Erik could bear, and he'd already been through so very much. He'd come so far….and this would have only catapulted him backwards at a deafening speed. The very thought of being related in any way to De Chagny would immediately repulse him. Until Nadir had proof positive, he'd reveal nothing.

XXX

Erik made his way back into the room. Christine was asleep, in the same position, same expression as last he'd left her. He discarded his robe, and slid in beside her. Gently he wiggled his arm in underneath her head and shoulder, carefully guiding her head to his chest, wrapping his arms around her. She stretched just a bit, yawning a tiny little sleepy yawn, and nestled into Erik's arms.

Erik sat listening to her breathing in and out, in and out, he could not but help think of….of all people in the entire world….Raoul. Though he'd hated the man for wanting to take Christine from him, he could only imagine that he'd wanted the same thing, the very same thing that Erik now had. In all the times he'd thought of that boy, this was the first, and likely the last time, he'd think of him with anything but loathing.

Somewhere inside Erik he felt pity for Raoul. In order to embrace love, he'd had to deny another man his happiness. Somehow, it did not seem fair, though Erik was no less grateful that he was the one now holding Christine in his arms. He had no doubt she loved him, and him alone. A fleeting thought of wishing that Raoul found happiness slipped through his mind….just as a few snowflakes might pass through the air on a chilled autumn morning….fleeting…there…but then again not…. He shook his head…pity was for the weak.

He thought of the delight he'd seen in Christine's eyes that morning as she beheld the physical evidence of their growing love within her. He smiled as he thought back to her standing before, and discovering the mystery of the clock. He felt guilty for the feelings his actions had obviously stirred within her. He closed his eyes and raised a silent prayer. "God, let not this great gift torture her. Let it be used for your good, but not at the expense of her sanity or demise."

Erik kissed Christine's temple as he drifted off to sleep. In the morning he would talk to Nadir again…his gut told him that there was so much more he needed to know. But at this point, the greater need was that Nadir knew that Erik would be there for him…whenever he was ready.

XXX

Meg sat straight up, she'd just begun dreaming, and the same angry sky greeted her, but tonight, she'd been able to wake before it grew too frightening. The small flicker and hiss of the barely lit lamp on the dresser gave the room just enough light to keep it within view. She'd talk herself out of this, she was determined. She repeated over and over to herself, "I am safe, I am loved, I am alright." She repeated it like a mantra until she found herself asleep again.

The dream returned, but this time on the horizon, was a small figure, seated at a vanity. Meg moved closer, she could see barely the outline, but as the object grew bigger, she realized it was Christine! Meg suddenly felt herself in flight, being drawn toward Christine's image. Before long Meg could feel something beneath her, and she looked around and she too was on a bench, seated before a beautiful vanity, soft candle light glowing off the crushed in-laid stone. She blinked, she was moving through the thick of the dark cloud, following what seemed to be the urethral sound of Christine's voice as she sang, "think of me, think of me fondly before we say goodbye, imagine me trying too hard to put you from my mind…think of all the things, the things we'll never do…there will never be a day that I won't think of you……" Meg's mouth gaped as her vanity came face to face with Christine's, the backs of the mirrors resting against one another. "Christine…Christine…." Meg called out to her, though she knew it was futile.

Meg watched as Christine continued to brush her hair, smiling and singing over and over again. Suddenly Meg saw movement in the shadows behind Christine. At first it seemed like nothing more than a swirl in the clouds. But then it grew in size and shape until it took on a human form. Meg squinted her eyes, trying to perceive the figure that was moving toward Christine. Slowly, surely, the figure moved until it was within feet of Christine….it was Erik! Though he wore no mask, that disfigured part of his face was obscured by shadow. He leaned down and kissed Christine on the cheek, gently running his hand along her back. "What a beautiful voice you have my dear…" Christine continued to sing….

All at once Meg felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning slightly to glance upward she saw that it was Raoul. His face contained no malice, for he too was smiling. He leaned down and kissed Meg on the cheek. She shuddered. Leaning in further he whispered in her ear, "I see you've found your sister my dear, and now, I'd like for you to meet my brother.." Meg looked at him in horror. Her face quickly flying between Raoul, and Christine, and Erik. Everyone was smiling at her, she felt nauseated, light headed…..

She felt herself fighting struggling to get away…

Meg sat straight up in bed, gasping. She was drenched from head to toe in sweat, she felt trapped, she needed air, she needed to be outside, needed to be anywhere but inside that room. She swiftly slipped on her robe, and made her way to the door. Turning once to make sure her mother was still sleeping. Meg opened the door and went into the hall closing the door behind her.

Even the high ceilings and wide berth of the grand mahagony hallways did little to quell her sense of confinement…she needed to be outside, beneath the vast expanse of the open night sky, she needed to breath in the cool night air…

She found herself quickly decending the staircase, nightdress flairing out behind her in fluttering in the moonlight. She made her way along the servants cooridor that extended to the terrace behind the house. The faster she went, the more desparate the urge to be outside became… She reached the door at the end of the long hal and grabbed the handle, her hand shaking as she flung the door open wide and ran out into the middle of the terrace, gasping.

She shrieked as two men came running toward her on either side, swords drawn. One nodded at yet another and he darted into the hallway Meg had just come out of. Meg was crying hysterically as the men grabbed her and drug her back into the house, closing the door behind them. It took only several seconds before they began speaking to her.

"Miss Giry, are you alright, was someone pursuing you?" Meg was trying to draw in her breath as she heard a pair of feet thundering on the stairs, and immediately let out a heartfelt yelp, "Raoul!" as he came into view. The men parted, leaving Meg standing for Raoul to grasp.

"Are you alright, you aren't hurt?" He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms protectively around her. His eyes immediately darting to the two men who now stood behind her. They were shaking their heads from side to side; they'd seen no one. He began to lead Meg to the bench in the hall. To err on the side of caution, the men roamed the halls, and several others the grounds around the terrace. Raoul nodded, and the remaining men departed, leaving them alone.

"Meg, what on earth brought you to the terrace alone this time of night?" He was gently rubbing her back as he held her hand. She could hardly tell him the contents of her dream. She began, "I am sorry Raoul, I'd had a dream, and I was frightened, and I needed some air, and I came down the stairs, and…" She was talking so fast, she sounded as hysterical as she was felt. Meg looked over, there was a light now under Madeline's door, she could see it glowing down the hallway. Immediately, she felt pangs of guilt, she'd woken nearly half of the household!

Raoul was trying to soothe her. "The doctor said they might come….it is alright…I am here with you….." Meg felt herself starting to relax. Perhaps it was her conscience that was getting the best of her. Christine was with Erik, Meg was with Raoul, neither her best friend nor her intended suitor, nor Erik for that matter, knew what she knew, and inside it was eating away at her fragile grip on sanity. She could not stand the deception, it haunted her to the core of her being, but she had no choice. To share any of it, with any one of them, would bring about disastrous consequences. She could hardly bear her present circumstance, but she must, for those that had been friend, protector, and suitor, for she cared for all of them.

Raoul was leading Meg into the library. They'd spent a relaxing afternoon there, perhaps reading to Meg of something more soothing would calm her. He heard Madeline putting on the kettle; he knew a pot of tea was not far behind. Raoul tucked Meg into a blanket on the plump cushions of the divan.

"Now let me see," he said, mounting the small ladder in front of the bookcase, holding a candle with one hand, thumbing passed book bindings with the other. Meg had begun to relax until Raoul moved to the third shelf. Her eyes widened as he made his way down the row…THE row where she had managed to stow her envelope that very afternoon! Her heart began to thump as he moved ever closer and closer to the chartreuse cover that contained that which she most longed to keep hidden. She had to distract him, get him to stop, and she was just about to call out to him as his hand paused on the book, "ah, yes, perhaps this one would do nicely" he said with a smile.

A knock on the door, and it opened, Madeline, blushing slightly, came in wearing her heavy bathrobe, her hair tucked neatly beneath her bed bonnet, carrying a tray with a pot of tea, two cups with saucers, a pitcher of honey, a dish of sugar lumps, and two silver spoons. She smiled at Meg compassionately, and nodded to Raoul as he dismounted the ladder. "Vicomte," she said, and then turned and padded out the door, closing it quietly behind her. "Thank you Madeline." Raoul called behind her.

Raoul briefly abandoned the search for a book to come over and pour a cup of tea for Meg. "This should help you to relax a bit, then I shall retrieve a book…" "No," Meg said before she even thought further, hoping her sudden outburst didn't alarm Raoul. She quickly retreated into a more mild demeanor, "If it is not too much trouble Raoul, could we simply talk a bit?"

Raoul smiled at her, sitting down next to her with his cup of tea. She'd start the conversation, "Raoul, what were those men doing?" Meg said with genuine interest in her voice. "What men?" Raoul replied. "The men, those four men, out in the yard….I don't recall seeing guards outside before, not that I've ever ventured outside alone before at night,….but I don't recall them being about?"

Raoul didn't want to further Meg's turmoil, so he simply replied, "they are always there, a bit of safekeeping when I've ladies residing in my house!" Meg smiled. Raoul was relieved, she seemed to be satisfied with his answer.

"I see, I suppose it is wise, all thing considered." Meg slowly sipped her cup of tea, the scent of the chamomile tickling at her nose.

"Now Meg," Raoul said turning his body slightly toward her, leaning back against the couch, "would you like to discuss the contents of the dream that found you out on the terrace at this hour?"

XXXX

The morning sun brought with it the burdens that had laid asleep as the world slumbered. Nadir had been awake since first morning light. He'd already taken his first cup of coffee, with the staff who were stirring at that hour. He noticed they all seemed to be a bit lighter on their feet this morning, a bit more friendly, and he dared think a bit more polite…though he was certain it was just his imagination.

He had much to take care of in Chauesser, and he'd want to be on his way as soon as it the clock struck eight. He knew he'd have to face Erik, and he'd already devised in his mind, a worthy plan for discussing with Erik. It had to be something that would make him a bit uncomfortable, and he had just he topic…Madame Giry. He could think of little else as he tried to fall asleep last night. She was a lovely woman, and Meg's words only had encouraged his less than obvious feelings for a woman he'd come to admire for her strength and courage. That would certainly provide him with all the uneasy sentiment required to fool even Erik.

Perhaps he's say it was a note that he'd written that he had retrieved from the Sunroom. Surely Erik would not ask to see it, and even if he did, he could simply display for him the folded scrap, and that would be all the proof Erik would require. He felt a bit smart with himself that he'd figured a way out of his quagmire. That did not however, lighten the burden of the task he had before him.

He'd retrieve Sara from the undertaker, and then he'd be….no…no….he'd have to search for the woman first…driving a carriage around with a corpse inside would be entirely too morbid. He'd search for the woman, take note of what he saw in Chauesser, and then be on his way back to Paris. With any fortune at all he'd be back there before the offices of the government closed for the day.

He'd finish dressing, and make his way down to the dining room. Something told him that he'd find Erik there, especially today.

XXXX

Erik lay next to Christine, propped up on one elbow just watching her sleep. He'd watched her sleep more times than he could count at the Opera House, above her undetected in the rafters. Now he watched her at a distance of but a few inches, and though he knew every inch of her face by heart, in his mind's-eye, the opportunity to review it was never missed.

She was sleeping so peacefully, he hated to disturb her, and he'd thought long and hard about waking her, or letting her sleep and joining Nadir alone. Though he didn't want to disappoint her. She'd pouted about his absence from the bed in the morning, she wanted to wake up to him, she'd said, not without him.

He leaned over kissing her at first lightly on the forehead. Nothing. He kissed her cheek and leaned away…still nothing. He kissed her neck lightly, though he dared say he'd not do that again or she'd be woken up in much different fashion.

He reached out brushing her hair from her face. The brown tendrils formed a glorious frame for her ivory skin. She was every bit as beautiful this morning as she'd been the day before. Finally, Erik leaned over, putting the full weight of his lips against hers. He slid his hand down to her stomach, rubbing over their daughter affectionately.

Erik heard Christine groan, and felt her sweet surrendered arms wrap around his neck. "Good morning my love…." came her breathy voice. She kissed him more intently, rising to press against his lips. Erik had intended to wake her so they could join Nadir for breakfast, for surely Christine would want to visit with him before he left. But, in that moment, Erik was filled with a deep sense of longing, and though his mind bid him rise, his body bid him stay, and with Christine's affectionate kisses luring him, the latter of the two was victorious.

It seemed like only minutes, though Erik knew better, and he was lying once again on his back. Christine lying with her head propped up on his chest, looking down at him. "Now my dear Erik, you understand why waking up together is much preferable to finding oneself alone in such a large bed?" Christine was immediately embarrassed by her own forthright comment, but she'd said what was on her mind, and hoped Erik would not disapprove.

XXXX

Nadir had finished his coffee, his scone, his eggs sat cold on the plate in front of him, and the maid had been no help at all. It had never been said, though was simply understood…no one disturbed their master while he was in his private chambers, especially with Christine.

Nadir was determined to sit for five more minutes only and then he'd write a note of apologetic regret and be on his way. Just then he turned his head when he heard a sweet voice greet him.

"Good morning Nadir. I trust you slept well?" Christine strode over to him kissing him on both cheeks as he rose to embrace her. "Yes, very." His eyes quickly darted to Erik who did not make eye contact with him as he found his place at the table. That was very unlike Erik, but then again these days, there was very much that was not at all like the Erik he'd remembered…and that was not entirely bad.

**Author's Notes**:

**Hopelesslyobsessed**: No, yesterday I never found the reviews for chapter 105 and I was panicking for a minute there thinking I'd bored everyone to death! Yes, Raoul and Meg, they are very sweet, and I'm glad you didn't think that the thing with Raoul's mother's prediction was too cheesy. It seemed sweet to me, and a helpful way for Raoul to know he was making the right choice….but one never knows! As for Erik and Raoul finding out if they are related…yes, that interaction would be most interesting… Nadir and Erik's conversation will be explained a bit further in coming chapters.

Now, on to your new movie obsession. Yes, I think I mentioned I've watched 'Dracula' more than three dozen times now, and I had to again, at least in part, last night, because you've been talking about it! The movie 'Timeline', another member of our Phantomfamily mentioned that they thought the book was much better than the movie. But hey, anytime we can see Gerard in a movie, we'll forgive them if the plot is lacking! I thought it was interesting, this is the first movie of his that I watched where he actually gets the girl! I have a confession to make, the woman who was in that movie who played Lady Claire….I think she would be a perfect mate for Gerry, though I doubt he'd agree. There was just something about her, the way that he looked at her. She is the reason I chose the name for the woman DeChagny dated when he was young in our current story….I think the name is beautiful, and it is French after all! Oh now I've let you in on a little secret haven't I!

As far as adoring Gerry, one can never really help who they adore. Look at some of the most famous couples in history and you'll find there was often a very large age difference between them. Not that I'm encouraging this sort of thing, but it isn't bad as long as you don't plan on moving to where he lives, and changing your legal name to Butler! It's like exercise for your heart! The more we exercise something, the better we become at using it! I've adored the man for a long while, and though people may think I'm nuts, its pretty harmless. Hey, if they guy can put smiles on our faces once each day, I guess he's spreading a little happiness by doing what he was born to do..so….that's what makes the world go round!

Yes, some day he'll find that special someone to have a family with. According to his own accounts, he's had many serious relationships, but they don't last for very long. They are brief and intense, and then its over though he maintains friendships with them all. Who could stay mad at that guy? It will take a special someone to knock him off his feet, and yes, she will be a very fortunate woman! I think because of his own past with his father leaving his family when he was very young, he's probably worried about doing that to someone else, so he's taking his time choosing so that he knows it will be forever…I think he wants to make sure he can be there for his kids because his father was never there for him. So, when someone does finally snag this man, they are likely going to be "stuck" forever! Ahhh…sighs happily

**DivePrincess**: Congratulations on starting another new school year! Always remember whatever knowledge you put into your head no one can ever take away, its yours to keep forever. Even if studying becomes tedious at time, remember they are there for you…to help you learn something new each day. It only makes you wiser, and a more valuable person to everyone you meet! No, I'm not a teacher, but I firmly believe in education. Before we can learn what we were meant to be in this world, we have to know something about this world.

As for James, he probably didn't mean to use the term 'best friend' unless he was referring to another guy, in which case, it makes sense because most people will identify a 'best friend guy' and a 'best friend girl' if they are lucky enough to have both. The fact that you've been close since you were ten means you've probably gone through a lot together, and maybe even feel a little bit like siblings! I'm glad you're working through it, because we all need our friends, especially if times are tough!

I'd love to do the IM thing, but alas, I do not have that on my computer! Have a great first day of school! Keep that chin up…every day of your senior year is a priceless gem. Remember to appreciate each one of them. Look at your fellow students and keep in mind those are the people you'll be thinking about for the rest of your life when you look back with fondness on your life. Every little act of kindness you show them will come back to you, and it will earn you a special place in their hearts that they will carry with them wherever they go forever!

**DarkMoonLightBright**: Oh I must admit that I love how your imagination works, and I am happy that I can feed it! That is so funny you talk about 'The Music of the Night', I listen to it so much, and every time it makes me smile just listening to that untrained voice belting out those words…they seem so very real. Yes, people think I'm crazy too because all of the sudden, seemingly out of the blue, I get a smile on my face thinking about it…I bet it does make me look a little crazy! Hey, do not tell yourself to "hush", I like long reviews! There are so many things going on with all of the characters, the possibilities seem to be endless, and depending on which way things go, it can affect so many other things…yikes, I think I've just talked myself in a circle! I smile each and every time I think of Erik as a daddy. I wonder what he will be like since he's never been exposed to infants, or small children for that matter…will it annoy him? Will he adore them even when they are misbehaving? Will he be a good helper to Christine? I guess all those things we think about when anyone is about to become a daddy! Have a good day at school!

**PhantomLover05**: I am pleased that you are enjoying the relationship between Erik and Christine. If only everyone could treat each other with such love and adoration! I know I sound like a broken record when I say that, but I guess we all can be reminded of how powerful true love really can be! Hope you like the next chapters!

**Hybrid Knightress**: Yes, our poor little Nadir caught…and by the time you read this review, you will know how our dear Erik reacted to it. He HATES it when those around him have secrets that they aren't willing to share…. It makes me think back to the time when he first woke up at Courtland Manor and was entirely irritated that everyone else seemed to know what was going on but him! Erik is a deep, deep, person, and though we've been seeing the wonderful side of him as he loves his Christine, there is no way to erase the past that he has, or the years he spent in darkness…that really never goes away….(laughs forebodingly)! Ahhh yes….Gerard Butler…puts a smile on my face every time!

**Crayann**: Lovely school….I am so happy to find that the ones that follow our little family are either educated, or in the process of being educated, or involved some way in education! I am also happy to know that I give someone, somewhere, something to look forward to. We all need our little havens! This story, and our little family, has been one for me these last four months…I really have enjoyed it so! Thank you for the compliment, and I hope this chapter did not disappoint!

**Grotto1**: Welcome to the family! We have a few traditions for you…First, wishing you a long and happy stay as part of our little Phantomfamily. I'm glad you are enjoying the story, and the length of the chapters. Sometimes I do worry that they are too long, but they seem to take control of me, rather than me of them! Oh how I would love to have the gift which you so obviously possess; the gift of brevity when you write. I can never seem to convey that which I want to with few words…! Now, for the second tradition…your tag name…. Hmmm…Grotto…perhaps you prefer places of peace, and relish solitude (which would explain your draw to the story of The Phantom of the Opera). Or perhaps you are a religious person who has had opportunity to visit a grotto (I've been to several) and appreciate the spiritual feeling you get when you are there. And the number 1….either someone had already claimed the name Grotto, OR, you wanted to make sure you were the FIRST grotto, and so rightly chose Grotto1? Now, with all of my speculation, kindly do tell….if you are willing….your new little Phantomfamily, of your thoughts when you chose your name!

**Stellalorilai**: Thank you for the review! I am pleased to know that so many enjoyed the bit with Raoul and Meg, and his mother's prediction. To me it seemed a fitting way to secure in Raoul's mind that it was destined to be…that he was meant to be with Meg. Hopefully it will solidify his commitment to her, and make it easier IF he should one day find out about Christine…..


	108. Misbehaving

Chapter 108 Misbehaving 

Madame Giry woke to find Meg's bed empty. She looked in the water closet, even the small hall between her room and Nadir's, but she was not there. The morning light was spilling fully into the room. Madame Giry had not seen Meg in the room, but from the looks of the cot, she knew she'd been there at some point during the night.

Madame Giry quickly dressed and found her way to the door of her room. She was at once afraid that Meg had risen and gone down to the room she'd occupied….. As she opened the door, Madeline greeted her with a hot cup of tea, coming in to help Madame Giry draw the strings on her corset. Madame Giry was relieved for surely if Meg had discovered the now empty room, Madeline would have retrieved her.

Soon she was on her way, following Madeline downstairs to the dining room, where the table was set for four. As Madeline walked away, Madame Giry called after her, "Madeline, did you help Meg dress this morning?" Madeline shook her head, "Meg not dressed yet, come breakfast soon" she smiled nervously and departed behind the door of the kitchen.

Madame Giry sat down admiring the rich wood of the long polished table. Nothing had been spared in Raoul's home. And though he was an eligible man, it was easily seen that the house had been prepared for a family, not a bachelor.

It was a few minutes only and Madame Giry heard footsteps behind her. She didn't even turn, "where have you been off to so early this morning my dear?" She said, both concern and irritation in her voice. It was neither proper nor pleasant, she thought, that Meg would be running about Raoul's home in her bedclothes at this time of day.

"I shan't recall being asked that question by a woman in a great many years Madame!" A decidedly masculine voice said as De Chagny walked around behind her selecting the chair directly across the table from where she sat.

Madame Giry was mortified. She'd thought it to be Meg, and now her question seemed a bit meddlesome and sardonic. "Monsieur, I implore you to forgive my rudeness, I'd thought you were…"

He laughed somewhat uncomfortably. "Do not worry dear lady, I'd rather thought I'd find Raoul in the very chair that you now occupy, so that would make us both entirely wrong!" She smiled at him contritely. "We both looked for our children, and neither have found them, though I've some idea where they might be." He nodded back over his shoulder toward the library. "It's the only door that is not a bedchamber that is closed in this entire house, so I've come to believe that they are in there, no doubt talking about books and watercolors again." His voice held a bit of a sarcastic ring.

"I dare say they get along very well, perhaps a little too well for my tastes just now." De Chagny nodded as Madeline filled his cup with coffee as thick and black as Madame Giry had ever seen. He caught her look of concern. "It is espresso, and yes, normally drunk from a very small cup, but I find it is far too annoying to have the cup refilled a dozen times!"

Madame Giry nodded to him though she still thought it odd. "My dear lady what do you think of this…shall we say, developing romance between our two children?" Madame Giry knew exactly what she thought, though she knew it was vastly different from the opinion DeChagny held.

"Monsieur, I'm quite afraid they are both old enough to make that decision for themselves. My opinion, while favorable, has real little baring on what the two dear souls decide." It was an honest answer, though not what De Chagny had expected.

"I see," he said as he nodded at Madeline who'd placed a dome covered plate in front of each of them. "Best we not wait for them to join us I suppose, it could be some time before they are ready to take their breakfast." DeChagny nodded once more and Madeline raised the dome, removing it from the room. Bacon, fried potatoes, a bit of steak, a large tomato.

Secretly Madame Giry hoped she'd not find the same under hers, and much to her relief, she did not. Hers was much more appropriate for a lady, several slices of French toast smothered in peach sauce, garnished with freshly whipped hazelnut scented cream. A delight for the senses!

She bowed her head, saying a silent prayer, as DeChagny began eating his breakfast. It wasn't that he didn't believe in it, but since his wife had died, he only did that which was required of him, and prayers at mealtime, he'd decided, were not obligatory.

Madame Giry cut into her breakfast taking her first delicious bite. She was momentarily transported back to her own childhood when her mother had prepared a similar breakfast for her. She was smiling as DeChagny began talking, pulling her abruptly back to the present.

"So Madame, you do not object?" Madame Giry feeling a bit protective of both Raoul and Meg, decided not to engage in this sort of debate with him. She chose one careful statement and that would be all she would offer on the subject.

"Monsieur, I dare say I can recall what it was like to be young and in love, and also for that to be frowned upon by unhappy or bitter adults who were bent on my making a good match. I'd much rather see them happy and content than matched and miserable." She knew her comment was likely a sour note to his ears, but she'd neither defend nor recant it; her mind was set on pleasant conversation for the duration of the time they shared at that table.

DeChagny felt a pang of guilt, though he'd not show it. It seemed that everyone was concerned about Raoul's happiness, and not his place in society…after all it was his duty as Raoul's father to make certain that the good name of DeChagny was well represented….

His thoughts quickly wandered, for the third time in the past few hours, to Claire. She'd been from a good family, and her father had truly disapproved of him. Without the knowledge of who he was, his family name, fortune, crest….he'd been considered by her father as unsuitable…perhaps if he had known….he'd not have objected…but that mattered little now. He had simply wanted to be happy…to be with the woman he loved…and he was denied.

He was chewing on the same bit of steak that he'd first taken from his plate, staring down at the sliced tomatoes. Oh how Raoul's mother had loved them. She'd been the one who'd first convinced him to try them. He'd always resisted before but had finally relented on their honeymoon, and found them to be quite enjoyable. He'd had them at nearly every meal ever since then…they always reminded him of her. He was irritated with himself…he'd been thinking about those two women more in the last few days than he'd allowed himself to do in years, with the exception of the occasional reminder such as this one.

It was the conversation that he'd had with Nadir, and the one with Raoul that had stirred up his past, and it would not be so easily put to rest this time, and for what reason he could not say.

He drew himself out of his stupor. He was entirely alone with Madame Giry…..this was the perfect time to have a discussion about Nadir. Perhaps he could find out more about the mystery of this man. Something, anything, that might help him uncover the origins, the past of this man to whom he'd revealed so much.

Madame Giry was sitting across the table, thankful that DeChagny was obviously lost in deep thought. It mattered little to her what occupied him so. She was simply glad the subject had faltered for she'd no desire to banter with this man who was both her employer, and quite possibly in the future, the father-in-law to her daughter.

The peaceful breakfast was interrupted by his question."So Madame, do tell me, Nadir is a most interesting man, and I dare say I've not heard that name before…is he Russian?"

Madame Giry cringed at the mention of his name. She'd been thinking about Nadir a great deal since they'd had their brief encounter in the small hall between their rooms. And even more since he'd given her a fleeting kiss before he departed. She took a sip of her tea before she replied, "No, I believe he is Persian."

She dabbed at the corners of her mouth. Though her plate was only half empty, she was entirely full. "Persian…hmmm. I'd have guessed Russian…he certainly can hold his liquor!" DeChagny laughed at himself; Madame Giry did not. Obviously it was a much more humorous statement when made in the company of only gentlemen. He huffed a little, settling his obvious humor into a more subdued conversational tone.

"How is it that he made the acquaintance of your uncle then?" Madame Giry could fashion a small story based on what little she knew of Nadir, and his time with Erik in Persia. She'd not to worry that she'd reveal anything for what she knew was sketchy at best.

"My uncle and Nadir conducted business in Persia, I assume he'd made his acquaintance there." "Interesting, I'd thought of your uncle as more of a gentleman farmer than a businessman."

Inside Madame Giry was incensed. Erik was so much more a man than nearly anyone knew. Self educated, intelligent, musical, compassionate, yet powerful. He was an undiscovered jewel, and in her mind could be made no less a man by the observations of this one that she barely knew. "Yes, my uncle has quite a full life. He's been traveled most of Europe." Madame Giry said, not really thinking that he'd pry further.

"And just what sort of business did he and Nadir conduct?" Madame Giry cocked her head with question in her expression. "You are certainly interested in my uncle!" DeChagny, startled somewhat by her reply added, "I am but making pleasant conversation dear lady, while we wait for our two children to present themselves, if ever they do before the noon meal!" He was smiling at her. He'd admit it, he was intrigued, but his real intent was to occupy the time, and find something about Nadir.

Madame Giry relaxed somewhat, perhaps she was being entirely too suspicious or protective. This man would have little use for the information, and as long as she'd reveal nothing of any consequence, she'd might as well pass the time pleasantly. "My uncle and Nadir dabbled in architecture. They'd designed homes for some of Europe's finest families." Madame Giry smiled at DeChagny, certainly that would raise his opinion of both Erik and Nadir.

"Oh how very intriguing. Do you know which houses, perhaps I've seen their work!" Madame Giry knew of several palaces, homes for Lords and Barons, but she'd not provide that direct a link to either man. "I am truly sorry, I'd not be able to recall them now, they've been retired for so very long, and I was a rather young woman, busy with my family and the Opera House when they traveled about Europe."

Madeline came in and collected her plate. Her back turned to DeChagny, she rolled her eyes in DeChagny's direction while she smiled at Madame Giry. The sight of it nearly making Madame Giry laugh out loud.

"I should think Nadir would be rather anxious to brag of his adventures in designing houses for the likes of someone like me, no doubt he has stories as vivid as my own." DeChagny chuckled to himself. He was about to add further to the comment when he spied Raoul coming in the door from the outside.

"Raoul DeChagny, what on earth man?" He said in a rather raised voice. In came Raoul, holding Meg's hand, both in their bedclothes, smiling from ear to ear. Madame Giry stood, raising her hand to cover her gaping mouth.

"Meg!" she said as she beheld her daughter, whose nightdress was somewhat filthy and damp about the bottom. She glanced over at Raoul whose slippers were dirty and sodden.

"Where have you two been that you'd present yourselves in such a manner?" DeChagny's condescending tone rung in Madame Giry's ears. For once, they agreed on something.

Though Meg and Raoul felt rather like they were children being scolded by their elders, they could not take the smiles from their faces. Madame Giry was entirely aghast that Meg would do such a thing, but she could see a flicker in her daughter's eyes that she'd not seen before, and she was happy for her, though deeply embarrassed at her behavior.

Raoul's father stood before the damp, sleepy, but happy pair, hands on his hips as if demanding an answer. Though Raoul was in his own house, and his father held no power over him there, he felt compelled to reply, if for no other reason, for Meg's sake.

"We were off to watch the morning sun rise over the pond. There is a felled tree there that provided the most glorious seat from which to view it." His defensive posture relaxing somewhat as he glanced over at Madame Giry. "Do not worry, we were perfectly safe, and Meg was properly represented as we had several stableman along as escorts." In truth they were guards, but Raoul didn't need to share that bit of information.

Both parents stood looking at their respective children. They were grown adults, but they still felt a sense of responsibility for them. Madame Giry was moving forward to collect Meg. Raoul stepped forward just slightly moving in between Meg and her mother.

"If you do not mind Madame, I shall see Meg to her room so that she may retire for a few hours before lunch. I think it is safe to say she is sufficiently tired to rest now." Madame Giry felt a sudden rush of separation from her daughter, and knew in that instant, that Raoul was taking possession of Meg, responsibility for her…her permission likely had little influence on the situation now….it was out of her hands.

With that he turned and led Meg up the stairs, Madeline scurrying up behind them. Madame Giry turned to face DeChagny. They were both at a loss for words. For once, they were of like minds, and neither knew quite what to say. They sat down sipping on their coffee, a fleeting glance exchanged between them. Their children were in love, and their importance as their parents was being replaced by the very real presence of the growing devotion to each other.

Meg found herself at the door to her mother's room, Madeline going in ahead of her to draw her a bath. "Meg, I shan't recall a more enjoyable evening in my lifetime." Raoul reached out stroking her cheek. Meg blushed. "If you'd not been woken by that dream, we'd have missed this opportunity…" Meg looked up as Raoul leaned down, brushing her lips with a soft and tender kiss. Her head immediately turning in embarrassment as Madeline ducked out of the door and down to the linen closet.

"Raoul, thank you for staying with me, helping me to get through those hours between dusk and dawn. Truly they are the most difficult." Raoul looked down, pushing the blonde wisps of hair from Meg's brow. "You are entirely welcome my dear….it was my pleasure. And now, off you go to get some rest. I shall ask Madeline to prepare us a late lunch in the garden. Until then I'd like you to get some rest." Meg nodded as Raoul turned to depart. She called after him, "Raoul, thank you….for that favor."

Raoul smiled. "It was high time that picture come down from its perch above the mantel." He paused, carefully selecting his next words. "Let us hope that it shan't be very long before we can put up a picture that is much more fitting for that room." He smiled at her and turned going down the hall to his room.

Meg blushed heavily, for she knew what he meant. Many of the young couples of society that were newly married, placed a portrait of their wedding above the mantel for good luck. Superstition she knew, but it was something all the girls spoke of effusively. It was supposed to help ensure fertility that first year. It likely held no value, but she'd seen many a happy young woman, fully expecting by their first anniversary. She went into the room where Madeline assisted her in getting into the bath. It was a welcome change from the cold damp nightdress she'd been wearing.

XXXX

Raoul visited briefly with the butler before retiring himself. He'd wanted to inquire if the doctor could be invited to come a bit earlier this evening, perhaps joining them for dinner. Given their late rest today, he'd no doubt Meg would want to retire before the evening was too far along.

The butler said, "Oh Vicomte, the maids came back from the market early this morning. I'm quite sorry to inform you that the doctor shan't be able to come this evening, but did send on his apologies. He thought Meg was getting along quite well and if she'd apply the salves as instructed, she could likely miss one evening visit." The man was folding Raoul's things at the end of the bed.

"Did he say why?" Raoul hoped that nothing ill had befallen the good doctor. "Yes, I'm quite afraid there was a dreadful incident in the City last night. A carriage was stolen from an Inn, two of the innkeepers shot dead, and another is being tended to by the physician as we speak. He feels compelled to stay at his side until he is certain that he was successful."

Raoul's face went ashen. "Did they say who they thought it might have been?" The butler nodded, "they thought is was the boy who'd left his carriage there in the care of the stable. No one knows for certain, but it may all have been over a dispute of the bill…how sad that someone would carry a matter that far."

Raoul glanced down at the butler, "indeed." He'd not be so irresponsible again. Though his adventures with Meg had been most pleasant last evening, he'd not have Meg outside of that house without several armed escorts, not even to enjoy the night breezes.

XXXX

Christine waived her hand as Nadir and Erik rattled off in the carriage. She'd have the morning to herself in her house, as the two took care of their business in the city. She would miss Erik for the few hours he'd be gone, but didn't mind having the opportunity to roam about the house now that everything had been uncovered and straightened. She needed to decide on which room would be the nursery, and that would be difficult since there were several very near to choose from.

She wandered back up the stairs in her bedclothes, rubbing her hand along her stomach. She was anxious to talk to the doctor, not having seen him for several days. She knew some things about pregnancy though she didn't know as much as some, never having known anyone closely during their confinement. Without a mother, without Madame Giry there, she'd no one else to ask. She did feel close to the staff, though one hardly discussed this sort of thing with their employees. She felt very, very, good, but would feel better once the doctor had visited. Perhaps his own sister had a difficult delivery, and that had kept him. She'd be anxious to hear of it!

As she wandered slowly from room to room, she could not decide. One had better sunlight for the morning, one was better as only a small door separated it from their bedroom, yet the other was lovely as it was a bit larger, and directly across from their room. She simply could not decide, though she knew she'd have months to arrange for it.

Ah, she had an idea. Going down to the sunroom she retrieved a small rocker, dragging it down the hall. Perhaps sitting in it rocking in each room, she'd have a better sense of it. She started with the room with the wonderful sunlight. Sitting down in the rocker, she quickly realized she could only see the tops of trees while seated, and the higher window sills made the room feel a bit confining. The second room she visited was the one across the hall. It was pleasant, and quite large, but something about it simply felt empty. The third room, she hoped, would prove to be the charm.

She dragged the chair into the room, sitting it near the corner so that she could see the center of their bed through the doorway. She smiled. This would be perfect. She would be able to keep an eye on everyone she loved all at the same time. Deep down inside, she'd almost known this room would be it. She couldn't imagine having her son, nor her husband too far from her.

She closed her eyes, leaning back and began to rock, humming one of Erik's peices. Before she knew it she'd drifted off to sleep in the comfort of the room that was warmed slightly by the morning sun. She was off in a dream, a sweet dream. She could see the room fully decorated. Toys and blankets surrounding her, soft shades of blue gracing every corner. Erik had painted cherubs and angels on the ceiling, and scenes from story books with a starry sky as a backdrop. Christine could nearly feel her baby in her arms. She furrowed her brow, she could feel a heaviness in both arms, it made no sense. She glanced down to see two little tufts of hair, one in each arm...

Christine jerked awake…could that be possible? She held her hand over her stomach. It had been a dream, not a vision…but somehow she was losing her grip on the difference between the two….

XXX

Nadir and Erik sat in near silence as the carriage made its way to Chauesser. Nadir had secretly hoped that Erik would start the conversation so that he could merely respond. Erik's behavior had always been predictable for Nadir, but even that had changed. Erik remained silent as he stared out the window of the carriage. Nadir decided it was time to speak. The longer the silence persisted, the harder it became.

"Erik, you've not said a word to me since last night." He looked over at him, Erik's eyes never moved. "It is unlike you to hold a grudge with me…others perhaps, but never me. Do tell me you are not that angry about my stowing a private note in your…" Erik turned, Nadir immediately falling silent.

"Nadir, my friend, do not worry. I can tell your spirit is burdened by something. I've known you a very long time now my friend, if I did not trust you or your motives, you would not be sitting in this carriage with me even now." Though Erik's facial expressions had not changed, Nadir was comforted by his words.

"Nadir, it is Christine that I think about this morning." He glanced over at his old friend. "Her visions….they are coming more frequently….I dare say they trouble her even beyond what she shares with me. I've known seers, and you've known seers…it has never come to good for any of them. And why now? Why after all of these years of life would she begin having these visions?"

Nadir at once understood Erik's silence. He had to agree, he'd never seen or known of any seers who lived anything but a tormented life. His words, no matter how sincere would provide only hollow comfort. Nadir sat back. Erik simply needed to vent.

"I've observed no less than four such instances in the last weeks. First the vision of Meg, then the vision of the ark, the vision of her father on the mountain, the vision of the girl in the village…" Erik's voice trailed off.

Nadir offered the only comfort that he could. "Erik, she is a brave young woman. She's not one who would try to misuse this gift. The only seers we encountered Erik, were tormented because they'd tried to harness this gift for their own benefit. Perhaps motive is an important part of accepting this." Erik glanced at Nadir. Perhaps he was right. "Either way my friend, there is simply no way around the gift, there is simply a way through. She has what the others did not."

Erik looked at him inquisitively. "And what is that Nadir, what does she have?"

"She has someone who loves her, understands her, will care for her and support her…none that we knew had that!" Erik had to agree, the seers that they had known were utterly alone, most were recluses, which probably only added anguish to their ever present torment.

Erik looked out the window once more before turning his attention back to Nadir.

"My friend, what was it that you wanted to discuss, but could not when I discovered you last night? Do you feel ready now?" Nadir sighed to himself, at last, the invitation he had been waiting for since first they'd entered the carriage.

He began slowly, evenly, "it is Madame Giry." Nadir said, rather shyly. Erik smiled, "and what of her?" Nadir cleared his throat, now he himself gazing out the window. "It has come to my recent attention…" he paused. He'd not said this out loud to anyone, for he'd barely admitted it to himself.

Erik looked at him, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder, "what is it Nadir?" He raised his face to Erik, for the first time in many years, feeling truly vulnerable before another human being… "I think…I think I've fallen in love with her.."

Erik smiled…so that is what all this nervousness on Nadir's part had been about! Erik began to laugh, at first softly to himself, and then heartily. Outside the carriage the coachmen could hear Nadir chastising Erik. "There's nothing at all funny about that Erik!" They could hear Erik laugh all the harder…..

**Author's Notes:**

**DarkMoonLightBrigh**t: Being misunderstood is the hallmark of genius! In regard to that part of 'The Music of the Night' I know just what you mean. I melt into a little puddle just thinking about it! Yes, our dear Erik will be a wonderful dad no doubt…

No good days at school? Yes, I agree Fanfics are a great escape, and maybe one day you'll be an author if you enjoy reading and writing….but that means school is important…I know it can be tough sometimes, but in the end it is so worth it! I've said it before, but education is important because it helps us to be better people. Yeah, some of the stuff we learn can be pretty boring. I guess just trying to focus on what's good about it makes it easier to get up and go every morning. So, don't spend too much time on FanFics! Have a great weekend, and I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

**Hopelesslyobsessed**: Five hours a day of tennis…makes me tired just thinking of it. I bet you've watched the movie 'Wimbeldon' with Kirsten Dunst and Paul Bettany…last spring when I was really sick, I watched that movie for like a week straight. He was a sweetie pie. I guess I just like it when guys are nice to the women in their life! I wonder if our Erik would like tennis, after all it is a rather dignified sport….oh, can you imagine him in white shorts and a polo…..nah…me either! Unless they can play tennis with a cape, I guess he'll have to pass. No problem about the review…life gets busy for all of us! It is good to be busy!

I'm glad to hear you liked the thing with Raoul's mom. I wasn't sure about it, but a few others said they liked it to, so I guess it stays! I'd agree with your thoughts on the fairy-tale kind of thing with his mom, she was just trying to imagine a beautiful woman for her son….I think.

I didn't even realize there was a sequel to Drac 2000. Who knew? Anyway, I hope you get through it o.k. Yes, Meg's room is coming along nicely, though it is taking longer to finish than Raoul had hoped! LOL Have a great weekend!

**Poetzproblem**: Yes, our dear Meg feels like a walking time-bomb of secrets. I guess we'll just have to see how strong a girl she really is! Really, you are too smart for your own good…you discovered my little foreshadowing of Erik having a soft spot in his heart for Raoul…darn it! I'm going to have to think harder to outsmart you now aren't I?

Have a great weekend…hope you liked this chapter!

**Stellalorilai**: I love the mention of Dickens…it gets me teary-eyed every time. Did I ever mention that I was fortunate enough to meet Dickens great-great grandson? He tours the word doing a reenactment of 'A Christmas Carol', a one man show, it was simply superb. I attended with my sister and cousin, a week before Christmas two years ago. It was like watching Dickens write the story….absolutely breathtaking! O.k., enough on the little detour. I'm glad you like the part about Raoul's mom. I'd mentioned to several other reviewers that I wasn't entirely sure about that part, but it was well received so I guess it is good to go with your gut instincts! Yes, there was finally a little bit of relief…now Nadir will be on the trail…..he's a good detective…

Have a great weekend and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Trueinspiration**: Welcome to the family! We hope your stay with our little Phantomfamily is a long and happy one! First, thank you for the compliment. It is hard to believe we have new family members almost every day, and it is such a commitment to start reading a story that is so long, when we are so far into it now! My hats off to you, it must have taken a long while to get to this chapter! I know we've been on the journey for nearly four months now! So, now, as is tradition, we must delve into your choice of tag names. Hmmmm….. I am thinking you are a very happy type of person who looks for good wherever you turn…and…having found the story of the Phantom of the Opera…were inspired by it….just as so many of us in our little Phantomfamily were. It breathed a new breath into many of us who were bored or a bit down…there is just something about watching that movie that sets your soul ablaze…. Now, if you are willing, please tell us how you chose your name! Have a good weekend, and I hope you enjoy chapter 108!


	109. If Knowledge Was a Blooming Rose

Chapter 109 If Knowledge Was a Blooming Rose 

Meg had finally nestled into the bed when her mother came into the room, closing the door behind her. Meg wished she could feign sleep, though she knew her mother would not be fooled.

Madame Giry sat on the edge of the cot where Meg lay. She sighed, the silent torture of what she knew she must discuss with her daughter being the only thought occupying her mind. Meg had been through so very much since her father had died, and these moments would be no less painful. Silently she wished the topic would never need to be broached, but given their present circumstance, time was of the essence. A decision would soon be in the making.

Madame Giry prepared herself, and then began, "Meg, you do not need to respond, simply listen to what I must say." She began running her hand along the length of Meg's braid that was tucked beneath the sheets. "Meg, we've come to a point in time where we will soon have to make a decision. Recent developments will make it difficult for either of us to return to Courtland Manor, though that had been our first intention. I've no doubt you know of Raoul's intentions to keep you here while you are recuperating, and perhaps beyond. I shan't want to be away from you, and I dare say you shan't want to be far from Raoul. The time shall come very soon when you are well, and the Opera House will near its opening. By that time my dear, we will have to have decided what will become of us…where we intend to stay, for we cannot exist in both worlds, and the two worlds can never merge."

Meg's previous glow of happiness was immediately tempered by the truth her mother spoke. If only there was a way to know for certain…to know if what she and Nadir suspected was true…if only. Meg sat silently as she listened to her mother begin to cry. She had thought so long about herself, she and Raoul, that she'd almost forgotten the things that surely burdened her mother. If she stayed with Meg, she'd likely never be with Nadir, for Nadir would surely return to Erik. If she stayed with Meg, she'd not be with Christine, or able to help Erik recuperate…. But if she left, if SHE LEFT, then she'd be turning Meg over to Raoul, and would be giving up all that she'd worked for those many years as the ballet mistress. How could she begrudge this woman a sympathetic ear with such weight on her shoulders?

Meg slid her torso down, pulling herself up into a seated position. Madame Giry looked desperately into Meg's eyes. Meg took her mother into an affectionate embrace. "Mother, I am sorry…I never meant for this to…" "I know my dear Meg, I know. One simply cannot stop the course of love."

XXXX

Nadir and Erik arrived in Chauesser. The town was already buzzing with people darting here and there on a busy Monday morning. There were markets to go to, seamstresses to visit, banks to deposit. Everyone seemed to be on a mission, though cordial as they quickly passed exchanging formal pleasantries.

The pair's first stop would be the mercantile. Erik had never had anything on account, and it had tugged at his mind as he thought about being indebted to another man, if even for a few hours. He'd granted the man's wishes out of respect. It had been the least he could do for the courtesy the man had extended his household.

Erik and Nadir were immediately greeted by the shopkeeper upon entrance. "It is good to see you again sir." He said, extending his hand to Erik. He gave Nadir a glance, looking back to Erik for an introduction. Erik flashed, quickly realizing it had not been since he was in Persia that he'd had to partake of this formality….and here he was, a gentleman's gentleman, introducing Nadir into the village he would most certainly need to become accustomed to. Nadir cleared his throat.

"Pardon me," Erik said, as he motioned toward Nadir, and then proceeding with the formal introduction. The shopkeeper nodded to Nadir, "a pleasure to meet you Sir." Nadir responding in proper fashion, "and like wise good sir." The three men stood, glancing at one another before Erik interjected. "Nadir is a dear friend, I should say I think of him as a brother," Nadir interrupted, "a much older, but just as handsome brother." Making all three of them laugh.

"Now good sir, should Nadir ever find himself in need of anything, anything at all, please do see that it is put on account for me, and I shall take care of the balance, do think of him as my envoy good sir." The man looked at Nadir, and smiled. It was not often that one man afforded that courtesy to another so freely.

"I'll see to it sir." He said nodding to Erik. "Is there anyone else you might like on your account? Your wife, a housekeeper perhaps?" Erik replied thoughtfully, "yes, I suppose it would be wise to make a list wouldn't it." The shopkeeper led Erik over to his office, Erik turning to nod at Nadir; he'd be but a few minutes.

Nadir wandered about the mercantile. He was quite impressed with the selection for such a small hamlet, he'd expected much less. Mentally he was taking note of where people seemed to collect. The gentlemen near the tobacco, the women in textiles and ready-made garments, the service staff near the dry goods. If he was going to find the woman Erik described, he'd guessed the dry goods would be an area she might frequent. He'd find some excuse to go through there each time he stopped at the mercantile if he had no luck today.

Nadir wandered over to the humidors, looking over the assortment of fine pipe tobaccos, cigars imported from around the world, loose leaf with wrapping papers. No doubt there were a number of men in the village who regularly partook of such extravagances, or the shop certainly wouldn't maintain such a selection!

He took a chair in the smoking room, rather finding the aromas of hard cherry, rich plum, and fragrant bitters preferable to the scents of lotions, powders, and perfumes that were not far off. Truly they were distracting….reminding him of Madame Giry.

He had been the only one in the room, but soon was joined by two other gentlemen. "Ducking out of the shopping good sir?" The one asked of Nadir as they sat on the leather couch across from him, propping their feet up on an a rather large well-seasoned leather ottoman.

Nadir laughed, "no good sirs, I'm waiting for a friend to conduct some business, but I can see indeed this would be an excellent hiding place for the purpose you suggested!" Nadir said gesticulating his hand eloquently to the surroundings. They laughed.

The two men sat eyeing Nadir before one asked, "I don't believe I've seen you in Chauesser sir, are you but traveling through?" he rose, Nadir doing the same shaking one another's extended hands before returning to their chairs.

"I am here as a guest of my friend, and then I shall be on my way to Paris, I've business to tend to there." Nadir said watching as the two men lit their pipes, swirls of smoke quickly wafting upwards toward the high dark ceiling, that had no doubt been witness to a great many conversations between gentlemen over its lifetime.

"I see," said the first gentleman. "And what do you think of our little village?" Asked the second.

"I must say, thus far, I'm duly impressed. You certainly seem to have a sufficiently stocked mercantile. I've yet to discover the remainder of the town, but I plan to do so before I head off today." Nadir paused, the conversation was coming quite easily; the men more amiable than first he'd imagined they might be. "I understand you've a number of good taverns, and a lovely park here."

The first gentleman nodded, "truly, truly. We consider ourselves a little Paris here sir." He smiled rather proudly. "What we do not have, we can order, and it arrives from Paris within two days time!" The second man nodding in agreement.

Nadir smiled, that explained quite easily the luxurious surroundings, and the pride he observed on nearly every face he'd passed in the street. "It is interesting…for such a small hamlet, that you've so many shops, and a center park for entertaining. One normally sees such things only in larger cities where wealth abounds." Nadir hoping the leading question would elicit a telling response.

The second man answered with considerable pride in his voice. "Yes, we've several generous benefactors, and several faithful employers. But I think it was the influences of our dear Lady C that influenced our humble little village the most."

Nadir turned his head, cocking it to one side, "Lady C?" Nadir said curiously.

"Yes, an elder woman…she's the reason for many of the fineries you see in the village. The park, the embellished lampposts, the boardwalk around the fountains. She's invested much into Chauesser. Some say it was her suitor and her lover, since she'd never married." The man smiled at the other who was nodding, and then continued. "She's been here nearing thirty years. Neither widowed nor married. She was simply quite enamored with our little village, and had not the heart to part with it….even to find a husband! Or so they say."

Nadir scowled, "she's never married….did she have no suitors? Surely a woman of that wealth would have had suitors!" The men just looked at him bewildered.

"She'd never told a soul, though some say she stands in her doorway at night looking down the road until the sun sets, as if she's looking for someone. She stays quite to herself most of the time, but does venture into the village several times each year. Once at the time of the holidays in December, and then every tenth of April. Why I dare say its almost an official holiday here. She buys gift for the children of the village, and everyone is treated to a large dinner in the town square. Up until a few years ago she would have her piano brought down, and she'd treat everyone to music while they dined. She's an odd sort of woman really, though I dare say she's a wonderful pianist, and a very generous soul."

Nadir was scratching at his chin again. "What's the significance of the tenth of April?" he said looking between the men.

The first answering his question as best he could. "No one really knows. We know only that she's been doing it for thirty years, and the good citizens of Chauesser have little reason to question the motives of a woman who has done so very much for our village."

Nadir was intrigued. "She sounds like a wonderful woman gentleman. I am inclined inquire, where does she live that she only visits twice a year to a place she is so obviously fond of?"

The second man puzzled, looked at Nadir, "visit? My dear sir, she live here sir. She's lived here ever since her father passed on leaving the family fortune to her. She's occupied their summer house with her mother until she died several years ago."

Nadir's interest was sufficiently peeked. "Why if she lives here does she only pay a visit twice a year?"

The first man interrupted. "Ah, that is the stuff that legends are made of good sir. No one knows for certain." He said huffing a bit indignantly. They neither had need to know, nor want to know the truth….the intrigue was far more fodder for conversation.

The second man said, "there are many theories, that she was scorned by a lover in her youth and never recovered; she was secretly betrothed to someone she simply could not marry so she chose to live in seclusion rather than succumb to an arranged marriage; that she chose a man who her father found unsuitable and would not go against her father's wishes…"

The first man said, "ah, that is the one I believe, an unsuitable match would have been frowned upon, and she couldn't bring herself to marry someone whom she did not love simply to marry. Thereby depriving her father of a grandson since he deprived her of the man she loved." He smiled, thinking himself to be rather clever.

Nadir was rubbing his chin intently. "Does the woman never come into the village for church or other things of this nature?"

"Ah," said the first man, "the pastor visits with her once each week. Her need and desire for privacy is insatiable. She never takes visitors save the pastor. Her maids and butlers retrieve all of her necessities. Yes she is…"

The man stopped abruptly. Nadir gave him strange glance. He quickly realized Erik had walked into the room and now stood behind him. Though Erik no longer wore a mask, no longer carried a sword, there was still something about his presence that silenced men. Perhaps it was his stature. Perhaps it was his steely gaze, or his silence, but whatever it was, Erik was still a presence to be reckoned with.

Nadir stood, "have you concluded your business?" Erik simply nodded. "I shall wait for you in the carriage." He said glancing at Nadir, and then back at the men, "gentlemen." Erik nodded and walked out of the room, his cloak flaring out slightly behind him.

"Odd sort, your friend." The first man said looking at Nadir and nodding toward Erik. Nadir hadn't witnessed Erik behave in this manner in a number of years, and certainly not since he'd been with Christine. Erik was nothing if not deliberate. He was a man of calculation and purposeful behavior, if Erik rebuffed them, there was good reason for it, though Nadir could not imagine what. Though Nadir wasn't a lemming, he would accept Erik's actions without question.

Nadir simply nodded and said, "he values his privacy also, I suppose you could say that I am accustomed to his wishes. Perhaps he and your dear Lady C have that in common." Nadir stood, gathering up his cloak. "It has been my pleasure to make your acquaintance gentlemen." He turned and departed.

The first man said to the second. "That wasn't at all promising. Who knows who that man is, or why he's left it sit vacant all these summers."

XXXX

Christine was lying curled up in a ball in the center of their bed. Though Erik wasn't there, it made her feel close to him being somewhere that they'd been so intimately together. She found herself humming again, running her hand over her stomach, staring up at the ballerinas on the ceiling. She was tired, a bit more tired than she'd been willing to admit. She'd declined her mid-morning tea, feeling a bit nauseated.

She was studying the faces of each ballerina, the tufts of icy-white clouds layered over the faintest of sky-blue. The cherubs wings were tipped in gold, each feather painted with such detail, it looked like one could lift itself from the room and take flight at any moment. Christine traced with her eyes the ribbons that provided an imaginary transition and link from one scene to the next. Her eyes passed, and then returned to one place in particular where the ribbon seemed to bunch and swirl, shades of delicate pink imbued with hints of orange and scarlet, giving them a velveteen texture. The work that it had taken to create such a masterpiece, it was truly a labor of love she thought to herself.

Christine's eyes admired, her heart sang, he'd done all of this when their love was but a dream to him. There was something humbling about the knowledge of how much he had loved her even before he knew she would love him. One intricately painted swirl of ribbon kept drawing her eyes back to it, begging for deeper examination. Christine's eyes studied it over and over, until it revealed its secret. There in the center of the ribbon, one could tell, upon careful examination, were the words, "I love you Christine."

She could do nothing but smile as her eyelids grew heavy. She wondered how many things she'd come to find in this house that he'd prepared for them…how long he had longed to love her with no promise or hope that it would one day come to fruition. She finally gave into the sleep that beckoned her. She'd ask Erik about it when he returned, for now she simply needed to rest.

XXX

Madame Giry left the room once Meg was finally asleep. They'd spoken such a few words, but in them had been conveyed the deepest of sentiment. Madame Giry wanted to be wherever Meg was, and Meg both needed and wanted her mother with her. In Paris, the future was brightest for Meg, for she had Raoul who'd stated his intentions for her, and Madame Giry had already given them her blessing. Madame Giry's future was very much determined by her past. Her life's work lay within the walls of the Opera Populaire… that was her first love, and perhaps it seemed, the only love to which she was capable of giving herself fully. Though there was much that remained to be discussed, part of the decision had already been made by default. Madame Giry was sadly resigned to the fact that to fully embrace the future, one must let go of the past.

As she descended the stairs she heard raised voices, a muffled sound coming from the parlor, and then the resonating echo of a slamming door. She was nearly at the bottom of the stairs when Raoul came out of the hallway nearly toppling Madame Giry as he mounted the stairs. "Raoul?" She called out to him.

"Madame Giry, I am sorry, pardon my rudeness, are you alright?" His voice obviously strained, he would not turn to look at her.

"Raoul…" she reached out touching his forearm. His shoulders began to jerk uncontrollably. She walked up the few stairs until she was behind him, reaching out she touched his shoulder. "Raoul…" she said compassionately, "whatever would make you and your father quarrel so…"

Raoul reached up wiping his face with the handkerchief he'd drawn from his pocket. "Madame Giry, I am sorry you had to witness that interchange. Truly, I'd thought you to be with Meg."

"I was," she said now moving to where she could see Raoul's face. There was far more pain in his face than a man of his years should have. She motioned for him to join her in sitting on the stairs. They heard the parlor doors open and close, and his father's voice booming down the hall for the staff to have his carriage brought round. The door to the outside closing rather loudly behind Raoul's father as he went outside. Raoul flashed Madam Giury an apologetic smile.

"My father disapproved of my decision to remove a certain portrait…he was rather incensed by it actually, so much so in fact, he's taken it back to his home." Madame Giry had no idea what would have been of such importance that a father would browbeat his son over it. Raoul looked at the puzzled expression on Madame Giry's face. He began to explain, "it is a DeChagny family tradition. The portrait of ones father hangs in the parlor of his son's home until such time as he provides an heir to the DeChagny family. It is to stand as a reminder that the DeChangy family name must continue." Raoul rubbed his face as he sat with his head in his hands. "I do not know how many generations it has continued, but I know that it has endured at least the previous four. My father has all of those portraits on display in a room in his manor." Raoul was staring now up at the ceiling.

Madame Giry said "I see, and you did not wish to have a portrait of our father in your parlor?" Raoul instinctively did not want to betray Meg. She'd requested it be removed, though he'd not tell Madame Giry of it lest she chastise Meg. He hoped for Meg never to learn of his father's behavior upon discovering the picture to be missing.

"Do not think me to be ill willed Madame Giry. I've no want to exasperate my father, nor disrespect the memory or traditions of my forefathers. I simply have my reasons, that for the time being, I'd prefer to leave the spot empty, perhaps awaiting another more suitable picture for the duration of…" he nearly slipped and said what was on his mind. He would not put that picture up again as long as Meg was in the house, and as long as it seemed to trouble her. He shook his head, "as long as it is my house, I see no reason that I should have need to justify my wishes to my father."

Raoul squared his chin, a bit of determination now evident in his brow. In but a few minutes time he was back to his gentile self. "Madame Giry, if you do not mind, I should like to retire for but a few hours, so that I might be refreshed enough to read to Meg again this afternoon. She so seemed to enjoy our afternoon, and I know that she loves to read, though her vision is at present not what it ought to be considering the swelling in her cheek."

In truth, Madame Giry was wanting to spend some time at the Opera House, and felt a bit compelled to check on the items she'd inquired about the day before that had yet to arrive. "Raoul, I think you should rest, it would be most wise." She paused, unaccustomed to asking for anything for herself. "Raoul, if you and Meg are to spend the afternoon together, do you think I might have a carriage into the City? I'd like to check on the dormitories, and several other things that we have ordered for that room."

Raoul's posture immediately changed to host, and he said, "but of course. I'll have the stableman check on this for you at once. Are you to depart within the hour?"

Madame Giry nodded, "that would be preferable. I'll have lunch in the City, and then perhaps return toward the dinner hour?"

"That would be excellent, then none shall be interrupted from doing that which they needed to do today. I'll go now to check…" he was leaning over as he heard the wheels to his father's carriage thundering down the path leading away from the house. "I'll make the arrangements, and ask Madeline to retrieve you from the Parlor when all is ready."

"Thank you Raoul, you are most kind. Is there anything I may bring back for you from the City when I return?"

What Raoul wanted most from the City was news of the incident with Crawlings, but his carriage driver would bring that back to the stable master who would in turn relay it to Raoul. Instead he asked, "Madame Giry, there is a particular chocolatier, down on Water Street, perhaps you know of it?" Raoul looked at her for confirmation, her stare remained static. "There are chocolate dipped lady fingers there. Some are filled with an amaretto cream, and others layered in chocolate and nuts." Raoul smiled, glancing down at the ground. "Meg is particularly fond of them, do you think you might bring back a half dozen of each? I'd forgotten to ask the cook to retrieve them when she left earlier for the market."

Madame Giry smiled, "but of course." With that Raoul nodded, reaching out he took Madame Giry's hand into his, brushing her knuckles with a delicate kiss. "Madame, it is good for you to be here with Meg….and I've come to appreciate your presence here…there is little doubt in my mind why Meg is such a devoted daughter." He smiled and descended the stairs making his way back to the stables. Madame Giry returned to her room to change into traveling clothes. It would be a busy day, and she'd need to be suitably dressed for it.

Raoul quickly made his way to the stables, giving specific instruction to the carriage driver who would be both escort and guard for Madame Giry as they made their way to Paris. He'd be doubly armed, and a second man would accompany them, under the auspices of being in his apprenticeship. The driver would return with full report of what had gone on in Paris with the night before.

XXXX

Erik and Nadir were coming out of the undertakers offices. Both men were stoned faced and stoic as they watched Sara's prepared pine box being affixed to the back of the carriage. Nadir had hoped to have opportunity to tour the city, but Erik had insisted that they quickly take care of that business lest anyone question why they'd leave a family member there at such length. They'd travel now to the tavern on the edge of the city before heading back to the winter house and seeing Nadir off once again to Paris.

The ropes were lashed tightly around the box, the end of it protruding from the undercarriage just slightly. The undertaker nodded at Erik and Nadir and then disappeared inside. Nadir's gaze met Erik's as the men silently climbed back into the carriage. Both had different reasons for reverence for this woman. She'd sacrificed her life to save one, and the other had grown to appreciate her posthumously, as he'd not been witness to that sort of loyalty in a great man years. The carriage pulled away from the small single-story building where the undertaker kept his offices. They were off to the tavern…the very tavern where Erik had taken Christine the previous evening. If ever there was to be a connection made with this old woman, this would likely be the best place to start.

**Author's Notes:**

**Captain Oblivious**: I'm so glad you are home...and feeling better now! There is nothing worse than looking forward to a vacation and then to find yourself sick for most of it! Paddling a boat around on a picturesque lake sounds entirely heavenly to me... Ah yes, the couples are doing nicely, though some don't even know they are a couple...LOL! Yes, much has happened, but nothing near as much as this poor family will have to

endure...

Susie is getting a check-up so soon? I suppose she too has to be ready to go off to college! I look forward to hearing from you when you're there...please let our little Phantomfamily know how things are going for you!

**Lirel-eris**: Thank you for your most kind words. They are the very thing that keep me on this path of continuing the story... Yes, I agree, I expected Erik to go into a fury myself, but truly, he is showing his strength. By being patient he gives Nadir a chance to redeem himself, and since he's trusted Nadir for this many years, he is willing to extend him

this courtesy. In truth, Erik is very clever. If he'd gone into a tizzy, he would have been showing that he was vulnerable, that he was afraid. Someone of Erik's obvious intelligence would know that showing anger without proof really is showing fear, and he is much more calculating than that. Didn't think Erik's reaction was so complicated? Me either. On the other hand, Erik is trusting Nadir, and values his friendship, so he really does want to be there for him if there is something that he needs. Erik has

been able to trust so few in his life. I must say there is so much I could say about all the other characters that you talk about...but if I did, I would be revealing too much about the future chapters...and you know how very fond I am of keeping everyone on in suspense! Oh, but the women in DeChagny's life….His wife, Raoul's mother, died when Raoul was young. Claire…is someone from his past…. "the one that got away" so to speak. More will be coming about all of this I promise!

Yes, I am blessed to have a library. Yes, oak walls...because of the age of the house, they used real wood instead of paneling...it does add a touch of gothic 19th century! A family of lawyers used to own my house, it had been their law library! I am very fortunate to have it...But do not be jealous because truly writing a story takes place in your mind...all the rest of the stuff is just window dressing! The study, the garden, the garage, the basement...wherever you can feel your creative juices flowing is where one should be, wouldn't you agree...? In your case, I might suggest a room without windows! No sadly, I've neither taken classes, nor written "professionally" though I have written seven other books, completely unrelated to this one.

I have to say I laughed when I imagined your parents singing 'The Music of The Night'! I can just see it! What others think is obsession really isn't. It is a very good thing that we in our little Phantomfamily are here for each other...we are the only ones who understand the common bond that we share because of this story...we are not crazy...o.k., maybe a little bit...but certainly we are just rich (deep), brilliant, individual people who choose not to be defined by a set of social norms. If we love something, such as POTO, then we love it, and we aren't willing to sacrifice the experience just because others make fun of us! My sister thinks I'm a bit nutty to be so involved with the story, but I just remind her that "someone" in the family needs to have a little culture!

I'm glad you have an interest in Latin, it truly is a beautiful language. You appreciate Roman and Greek history so much more when you can read it in its native tongue! I found that by taking Latin as my first, second language, it made learning a third and fourth language that much easier...and if you study Latin, you'll have a whole new appreciation for the English language, and will have the opportunity to learn where many of our words came from! I have a close friend who I was speaking with this weekend and we've decided to find a French course...I've wanted to learn French for a very long time...and now...with POTO being set in France, I feel even more compelled to learn it! Oh, and one last thing…I love the way you sign off….skips off into the mist I imagine a little water sprite going off to sleep after a night of innocent mischief!

**Hopelessly obsessed**: I thought you might like the idea of our beloved Phantom in a tennis uniform! Yeah, can you imagine if he missed a shot...and the other person won a point? He'd pull out his lasso and swiftly take care of his competitor, and probably the judge!

Yes, the Crawlings family lives on...and it is obvious that the first "kill" that he thought was Erik, didn't bother him all that much because he's obviously as blood thirsty as his father and brother...not a good thing for this family I'm afraid!

Yes, the idea of this entire set of characters becoming a family is interesting, though it is hard to say if or how that could happen...I guess it's a little bit like real life in that way...one just never knows what might happen!

By the time you're reading this you probalby have only a week before school starts...I hope it is a great year for you...and you take the opportunity to make the most of it!

**Phantomfan13**: It sounds like you have been busy indeed! I had to laugh when I read

about the horses all being named after drinks! Maybe now she could start naming them after movie stars...we have a suggestion for her...maybe she can call the pony Gerard!

No, I haven't seen 'The Brothers Grimm, though I am wanting to. I did see a matinee on Saturday...I went to see 'Red Eye'...that was scary! Cillian Murphy who plays the main character was pretty good. I saw him for the first time in 'Batman Begins' and I must say he is a creepy sort of handsome... he'd be a good villain for our story don't you think? If you haven't seen either one, you'll have to add it to your list!

It is funny you should mention 'Eragon', my friend and I were just discussing the book. Interesting bit about how that egg got carried all over and wouldn't hatch because it hadn't found the right person! She's just finished reading it and is now getting the second one in the series 'The Eldest'. She said it is pretty good. From what I've read, I think there is a definite Tolkien connection in this author's books...but then again, we all have to have our inspirations don't we? I've not seen 'Dragon heart', but I think I'll have to...is it out on DVD or is it in theaters?

Yes, I think that Crawlings is going to make another appearance in our story, but just where and when...one never knows!

I wish you the best as you get ready for school! It is always an interesting time when you get back into that routine...but it is a good one!

**Hybrid Knightress**: Yes, Raoul and Meg got scolded! It is fun to think of a brand-new relationship, that point where friends suddenly realize they are more than friends...it is so special, and you really don't care what anyone thinks because you are so happy... Now Nadir and Madame Giry...that will take a bit more finesse if those two are to ever declare their feelings for one another because as we age, we worry more about obligations, and often let that get in the way of our finding happiness...so we will have to see how it works out! Congratulations on being the Editor-in-Chief of the newspaper! That is quite an honor...and makes you more than qualified to review all our stories!

**DarkMoonLightBright**: Thank you for the compliment on the chapter. If you've been thinking about writing a fanfic for POTO, you should do it! I wasn't sure I could, or if anyone would even want to read it! I am happy to find that there are so many of us out there who wanted Erik and Christine to get together...sometimes it is in our passion for a subject that we find our way, sometimes unintentionally...to something that makes us

happy...I've so enjoyed the privilege of the opportunity to write this revision...and have been humbled by the response. You just might have something that you've not discovered yet...really...you should try!

I have to agree with you, there is little that is more precious than finding a totally committed couple enjoying their love for one another...just as Erik and Christine do. Raoul and Meg, are far from ready for that...in that period in history, the couples who delved into that sort of thing too soon, and most decidedly before marriage, were looked down upon...the very reason DeChagny and Claire were pulled apart even before they got together! All that aside, Meg and Raoul have much to get over to be sure that they aren't

simply together because they share in the same grief...though I think that doubt is starting to disappear! As for Erik and Christine relishing their love for each other...I think they do...perhaps I am a bit too shy, or guard their privacy as much as their loyal servants!

**PhantomLover05**: Yes, I agree, Madame Giry and Nadir would be very good for each other! As far as having Gerard yelling in my face...if he was holding my hand and telling me that I had to spend the rest of my life with him in a dark cave 500 feet below ground for the rest of my life, I'd be one happy woman! So, if he wanted to yell in my face...I'd forgive him!

**Poetzproblem**: I almost started to cry...no one has ever told me they looked forward to any day because of me...I am duly humbled...bows graciously Yes, Christine's predictions, visions, dreams...they are leading up to something!

**PhantomFan13**: We are all having a really busy summer aren't we? More will be developing in the coming chapters...we took a little reprieve so the characters could have a wee bit of happiness before the next storm hits...laughs forebodingly

**Trueinspiration**: Thank you for your words of encouragement regarding the story. You are most welcome into the family...and we are happy to have you as you are a Phantom lover along with the rest of us! I absolutely do not think that is cheesy, not even one little bit...because the same thing happened to me! I was unhappy, stuck, felt like I was going through this existence rather than living...though I was busy, and had many happy things

going on in my life...something was missing...and then….I saw it...the movie that changed my life...literally...it was like there was something sleeping inside of me that woke up and has been running at full speed ever since! So when you talk about that happening to you...I completely understand! Then, I found fanfiction because of another Phantom lover...and well...the rest is history as they say...my passions laid bare for the world to read in 108 chapters of a story I am totally passionate about...one just never knows what will happen in their life...one little thing...that will alter the course of their life forever...sadly...too few embrace it when it comes along...and they just let the opportunity pass them by! Glad to hear that there is another "kindred spirit" out there!

**ElvieIII**: Welcome to the family! We hope your stay with our Phantomfamily

is a long and happy one. I have to tell you, and I am being very sincere, I am truly humbled by your kind words. It has been both my privilege and my pleasure to write this story, and it warms my heart to know that it brings happiness to others around the world...because we all want to be happy! It touched my heart that you "nearly cried for joy" at some of the chapters...because they might very well be the ones that I cried while I was writing them! The wedding night out in front of her father's grave, the time they spent at Sara's Inn, and the night at the Candle Light Inn under the light of the stained glass window...Then when he'd been hurt and he finally was awake...The day when he found out Christine was pregnant...The night they were first reunited as husband and wife at the winter house….those are just a few of the chapters that I wrote with tears

streaming down my face...yikes...sounds like true confessions doesn't it? I do like your new word...Phantastic...I hope you don't mind if I borrow it from time to time! Now, while I cannot reveal some of the things that are going to happen, I can tell you that I am absolutely not an author who can leave a story hanging in mid air...I hate that myself. So, when the story does finally come to an end, it will be at a place that makes sense...and at a time that will be right for all of our family!

Now, on to the tradition that has become a favorite part of welcoming our new family members! Hmmmm, let me see,...ElvieIII, I am guessing you are a Lord of The Rings, and perhaps an Orlando Bloom fan? I might really be way off...but...then again...maybe not? If you are willing...will you share with your new Phantomfamily, how you chose your tag name?

**Phantoms Rogue**: Welcome to the family! We hope your stay with our little Phantomfamily is a long and very happy one! First, thank you for the compliment on the story, it always warms my heart to know that others are enjoying the story along with me!

Yes, the deja vue thing is hard for her, and anyone that has it (confession: me too! ;-) ) knows what an eerie feeling it is when it happens to you... it's a little creepy sometimes isn't it?

Now, on to the second thing, as is our tradition when you become part of our Phantomfamily... Your tag name...this is an interesting one indeed! The Phantom part is easy...you are a Phantom lover which explains how you wandered into our Phantomfamily! Now Rogue...that leads me to believe you like to live on just the right-side of danger, perhaps do not like to conform to the social norms, and can fully appreciate Erik's dark character...and maybe feel something akin to being like the Phantom yourself...we all wear masks you know! So, now that I've taken a shot at it...would you be so kind...if you are willing...to share the origins of your tag name with your new little Phamily?

**Regina Halliwell**: Welcome to the family! I am sorry if I consumed your entire day in reading this story...I hope that it brought you a bit of happiness along the way! We are happy to have another member to our little Phantomfamily! Thank you for your heart-felt words regarding this revision of the POTO... our family agrees on one thing...Erik and Christine were meant to be together...and we are very sorry to tell Gaston...but he

was...well... we just like another ending better! We hope that your stay with our Phamily will be a long and happy one!

Now, usually we have a tradition that we take a stab at guessing about the origins of your tag name, but I have a feeling that this is your real name? If so, no guessing on our part is required...if it isn't your real name, but rather a pseudo-name...please do tell!


	110. Stirrings

Chapter 110 Stirrings 

Nadir stared at Erik, and then out the window as the carriage jostled down the side street behind the shops. It was both the weight of what was beneath them, and the unevenness of the cobblestones in the alleyways that made the carriage shift sharply to the right and left as it made its way toward the tavern. Erik had not wanted to take the carriage down the center street drawing undue attention as if the pine box were on parade.

The carriage stopped at the stable behind the tavern. The coachman opened the door for Erik and Nadir, allowing them to exit unassisted as Erik had requested. His physical maladies gave him less and less trouble each day, and he preferred to make his way on his own as long as he was now able. Erik leaned over, speaking the first words directly to Nadir since they'd been at the mercantile.

"I've no doubt that the woman shan't be easy to find. Her granddaughter was rather penitent last evening, and I dare say they've probably gone to great lengths to keep her indoors, or at the very least, away from the public eye. We shall look for her granddaughter. Perhaps then we can discover where the woman lives, or at the very least…."

Erik stopped talking as several men passed by them on their way out of the tavern. Erik looked from side to side to make certain they weren't being overheard, "at the very least, we can find out if she stays with her," he said in a strained whisper.

Nadir nodded as they came to the entrance round front of the tavern. He reached out grabbing hold of Erik's shoulder. "My friend, are you prepared…prepared for what this woman might bring to you…what she might tell you?"

Erik looked at Nadir with furrowed brow, "afraid?" he said almost indignantly. "What on earth could this woman tell me that I should be afraid of? She's merely an old woman who's sadly lost her mind. What I want to know is why she associated me with that name. That is my only concern Nadir." Erik opened the door and walked in without ever waiting for Nadir's reply.

Nadir pressed his eyes closed tightly as he shook his head. He'd not been the one to use the word "afraid"….Erik had. If Erik knew what was truly on Nadir's mind, he'd already be on flight from the village, leaving everyone and everything behind except Christine.

A gentleman came forward as soon as he spotted Erik. "Monsieur Courtland!" He rushed toward Erik with his hand extended. Somewhat hesitantly he looked Erik in the eye. "I trust my Nicole caught up with you last evening, and offered you our most humble apology for that woman's behavior." Erik pulled his hand away brusquely from the handshake.

"That WOMAN, sir, is the grandmother of your young employee, and I can assure you, that is the reason we are here."

The man looked disconcerted. "Good sir, I can promise you she shan't be about here again to frighten or disturb you or your wife. She is but a town nuisance really, I can…" The man fell suddenly silent.

Erik had fixed his gaze on him, not so much as blinking lest he break his stare. Nadir could see the Erik he'd come to know many years ago rising to the surface. "I've no desire SIR for this woman to be treated ill because of the incident last evening. My friend and I are paying you this visit in hopes that her granddaughter might be here so that we might visit with her for but a moment." Erik had once again retreated from his aggressive stance, something, Nadir decided, he could tell Erik had been practicing. Retreating had never been in his nature.

The man looked at Erik contritely. "Sir, I am sorry, Nicole is not here just now. She will return this evening…is there something I might tell her for you?" The man smiled at Erik, hoping to discover the purpose for his need to visit with her.

Erik looked down at the ground, then glanced surreptitiously at Nadir. Today would not be the day that Nadir would visit with her, nor was it likely to happen in the very near future as Nadir would be in Paris for some weeks before he'd have opportunity to return. Erik huffed. "No good sir, we shan't be leaving a message for her."

Nadir was glowering. The delay would only prolong the agony he and Meg felt. Erik looked at the man again, "Sir do promise me that you'll not castigate Nicole for her grandmother's behavior. And further that you shan't deny her the right to have her grandmother about on account of my wife or myself. We should all be so fortunate to have someone who cares for us when we cannot care for ourselves."

The truth of the last statement being heartfelt, because Erik knew of that very sort of love first-hand now, and could share in this sentiment with the rest of the world…a connection he'd longed for and now had.

The man nodded. "Very well. And sir…" he hesitated, "will you and your wife be joining us for dinner again very soon?" Erik smiled, inside understanding the man's real concern, he worried for the business he was so happy to have had, fearing it had been lost already.

"Sir, when next my wife and I pay a visit to Chauesser for dinner, we shall pay you the patronage you deserve." The man breathed an audible sigh of relief.

"Thank you kindly sir for your generosity and understanding. I shall see to it that your next visit will be an entirely pleasant and uneventful one." The man bowed slightly and departed.

"Uneventful?" Erik thought to himself. While uneventful seemed far too mundane for most, the thought of having an uneventful period seemed completely lovely to him just now. How odd he thought, what one man has the other man longs for.

Erik turned to Nadir and nodded. "I should be seeing you about the town Nadir, so you may become familiar with it. Do let us leave the carriage in the stables, and walk a bit? Then we shall have lunch, and I'll see you on your way."

Nadir looked at Erik, "I suppose it makes sense to do so. I'd love to get a look at that park that you mentioned." Secretly he wanted to survey the surrounding properties that might have view of the park. He had a sixth sense that Lady C lived within view of it, or there would have been little reason for her to have gone to such expense beautifying it, as the men had described to him. "Yes, I should like that very much."

The pair walked down the stairs and through the courtyard to the outer gates. The village was much busier than Erik had observed the night before. Still not entirely comfortable with the crowds, he drew in a sharp breath. His right cheek twitched as they began to walk down the street, his hand instinctively drawing up to cover it.

"Erik, is everything alright?" Nadir having noticed his sudden movement. "It is just my cheek…the flesh looks healed , but the happenings beneath the surface are but a mystery to me…muscles, move involuntarily from time to time. I should like very much to visit with the good doctor. I do hope that he will come soon enough."

Nadir reached out patting Erik's shoulder. "I'm certain all is well Erik, it looks well to me…" The pair wandered down the street towards the park..

XXX

Two houses down, in the upper window, a curtain was drawn back. An old woman sat staring out at the men as they walked away from the tavern. She muttered to herself, "DeChagny, DeChagny…I've lost the boy, I've lost him…." She went to the door, but alas it was latched and bolted. She had to find some way to get to him, some way to tell him she'd lost the boy…..

XXXXX

Christine had been awake for hours. Having had neither the appetite, nor company, she'd had honey toast and tea in lieu of lunch. She had already wrapped the gift she'd bought for Meg. A beautiful pale yellow silk hair scarf, a box of chocolate truffles, and some of the stationery that Meg was so fond of. She had let Erik select a book for her, and he had already had it wrapped at the Mercantile. Though Christine was curious, Erik insisted it was a surprise for Meg, and she shouldn't pry. In truth Christine hadn't known if he was jesting or not, so she decided to leave well enough alone, and leave the gift wrapped, and had tucked it inside the box with her gifts.

Now Christine was happily and busily taking sheets of paper that she'd found in the drawing room, and stroking water colors on them, then holding them up to the walls in what would soon be transformed into the nursery. She couldn't help but think of the dream she'd had…and yes, she had settled in her mind it had merely been a dream. Two tufts of coal-black hair, one in each arm. It was entirely possible that Christine was simply anxious to be a mother…but something seemed so natural about it. "Two…," she murmured under her breath. She'd not think of it again.., it was simply her fears manifesting themselves in strange ways, she tried to comfort herself. She held up each sheet in her hand holding it at arm's length against the wall. The pink was too feminine, the yellow too bright, the lavender, though she loved the color, didn't seem quite right. The blue was lovely, but that too seemed to bland for a room that would be filled with such happiness. She walked back and forth, back and forth looking at the nearly twenty different sheets she'd made, not one looking just right.

She walked back into their bedroom, and laid down on the bed staring up at the ceiling in exasperation. How lovely the ballerinas and cherubs were that Erik had painted for her…she laughed. She'd ask Erik when he returned, but she was entirely certain he'd be willing…after all, they needed something to pass the time while they stayed at the winter house!

Christine rose from the bed, refreshed, and feeling satisfied. Cherubs, angels, and other mystical creatures would be their child's first companions. For if Erik could give Christine the gift to see every morning, surely he'd begrudge his son no less.

Christine collected the wrapped gift for Meg and happily made her way downstairs. The grandfather clock that sat in the parlor was striking noon when she descended. She smiled. It was like having her father reach through time and space and talk to her to listen to the chimes of the clock that he'd had made for her. There was so much about that house that felt like home, and the more she thought of it, she didn't know if she could bare to leave it when the time came. Courtland Manor was lovely, and it too had many things that she adored, but there was something about this place, she couldn't put her finger on it.

Christine sat Meg's gift on the table in the parlor. It would be emotional enough saying goodbye to Nadir for several weeks, and she didn't want to forget to send Meg's gift with him. She walked to the study where Erik had told her he kept some stationary that she might make use of to write Meg a note. Just then one of the cooks appeared baring a plate of cheese and apples and a fresh cup of tea.

"Madame Courtland, please, do eat something. Now that you are feeling better you'll want to keep your strength up." The woman smiled politely at Christine as she sat the tray down beside her on Erik's desk that Christine had laid open. "Thank you," Christine said as she lifted an apple slice to her lips. It was sweet, and perhaps it did make sense to nibble on it. After all, the baby was in no position to feed himself! After taking a sip of her jasmine tea, Christine lifted the pen from the inkwell and began to tap it. She really didn't know what to say, so she started out with….. "My dearest Meg….."

XXXX

Madame Giry had been to the several shops she needed to, confirming that items ordered were being delivered before the sun sank on the Western horizon that very day. She'd visited the bed maker, and he'd just loaded the pieces into a carriage not a half hour before, and it was, as they spoke then, on its way to Raoul's house. She'd been certain to stop at the Chocolatier that Raoul had mentioned. She'd been fortunate, the woman had told her, normally the lady fingers went quickly, and she was the lucky one today, she'd had just a half-dozen left of each. The woman had refused when Madame Giry had tried to pay. "The Vicomte DeChagny is the only one who buys this particular assortment…his sister mentioned that you might be stopping by." Madame Giry smiled at the woman somewhat embarrassed by the interchange. "Madame, and I hope you do not mind…I've included some dark chocolate truffles for the Vicomte, and several liquor filled drops for his father. That is what the Vicomte normally takes with him." The young woman had been very pleasant wrapping all of the selections in tiny lined boxes, and had lashed them together with a beautiful sheer golden ribbon. "And Madame, these are for you, you do like chocolates yes?" Madame Giry smiled at the young woman. Inside this box was a small assortment of all the finest the chocolate shop had to offer. "No doubt you'll have your favorite too." The young woman smiled at Madame Giry again, handing the towered boxes of chocolates to her. "I hope we shall see you again Madame."

Madame Giry had politely nodded as she exited the shop. She didn't know if she would every become accustomed to being treated so differently. No doubt Raoul's sister had been to every place that Raoul might have frequented, or that she imagined that Madame Giry might go, and now, suddenly Madame Giry was being treated differently….as a lady of society…and it was a bit unsettling.

Madame Giry's carriage sat outside the Opera House for an hour or so as she wandered about the dormitories. They were all clean, a fresh coat of paint having just been applied several days before. There were more closets, good, good, she thought. This would certainly prevent the quarreling that always seemed to erupt among the girls over who had more space. There were a few more walls, thus affording more privacy. Madame Giry liked the windows, they now had hinges and opened so that they might let in air when it was needed.

She passed through making note that there were several open rooms that had lounge furniture in them. Small stuffed chairs, dainty tables, and small tables suitable for playing cards, writing letters, or doing homework. That pleased Madame Giry immensely, it seemed the girls never had enough space to get away from one another when they needed to focus on their studies, and it truly wasn't fair if everyone had to be quiet so some could study.

Another room lay at the end of the hall. It had previously been overflow for the props as the pitch of the roof there made it usable for little else but storage. Now, a beautiful set of French doors beckoned her to enter. It had been transformed into a dining room. A fireplace had been built in on the outer wall, and a beautiful stained glass window lay at the center of the exterior wall. The sight of it made Madame Giry want to weep. She'd described that room perfectly…it was exactly what she had secretly hoped for the girls. A place to meet and enjoy one another's company, far from the prying eyes of the men that roamed about the dining halls in the bowels of the Opera House. There were long tables, enough for all the previous ballerinas, and even a few more.

But how could this be? She nearly thought of pinching herself for surely it was a dream. She'd told no one of these dreams…no one… she gasped….except Erik! But how could that be? He'd been no where near that Opera House since the fire, and had laid unconscious for two months…she'd seen it with her own eyes…how could he have had anything to do with this? But as she looked around that room, she had no doubt, that somehow, some way, he'd exerted his influences, because no one else could have done this, and with such detail, right down to the cushion covered seating forming a half-circle in front of the fireplace. She shook her head in disbelief. She'd have to find a way to speak to Erik of it…for only he could explain to her how this came to be.

Madame Giry turned around, closing the door to this gathering room, walking in the opposite direction. She had but one room left to examine there, and that was her quarters. Secretly she'd been very pleased that they'd relocated her to the same floor with her charges, as she felt much more able to be of both assistance and supervision to them. For truly when a mother and father entrusted their daughter into her care, she felt responsible for that girl while she was at the Opera House. Now she could be near, and keep the girls at a safe distance from anyone that might desire to take advantage of their innocence.

Raoul's father had mentioned to Madame Giry that her new quarters now had a place where her bedroom would be separate from a sitting room where she might entertain a few guests, or where she might spend time alone with Meg. Her quarters were situated at the other end of the dormitories, and faced the back courtyard he'd said.

She walked through the dormitory again, marveling at how much more suitable they were than what had previously been there, and though it was likely her imagination, they seemed much larger than she remembered. She was shaking her head, thinking again about the rooms she'd passed through, and especially the gathering room that lay at the opposite end of the corridor that stretched the length of the Opera House.

Madame Giry came to a set of freshly lacquered onyx doors. There was a large brass handle as one would find on the door leading into a home. "Interesting," Madame Giry said out loud. It looked like the entrance to a house. Two large topiaries lay on either side of the door, and one step up to the threshold. Madame Giry reached out and placed her hand on the handle. Carefully she pushed the door open. Nothing, nothing, could have prepared her for what lay behind that door.

XXXXX

"That was very good, very good indeed." Nadir said as he pushed his plate away from himself. Erik nodded. He'd never eaten at this particular Inn, but he had to agree with Nadir, that it had been wholly enjoyable. The dark rye bread, the corned beef, the cheese, the pickled vegetables with dill, and the fresh coffee had been a treat, though Erik longed for the fresh garden vegetables that late spring would bring.

Erik looked at Nadir. "I shall miss your company Nadir. No doubt it will take several weeks to set things in order for Sara. Do see to it that no expense is spared, if there is no headstone for she and her husband…you will see to taking care of it?" Erik was emphatic. Nadir nodded, "I'll see to it Erik, not to worry."

Erik looked out the window at the park that lay across the street. "There is something so oddly familiar about that park…I've seen hundreds, nay thousands, in the years I spent with those people…." Erik's gaze had once more returned to that steely vail that he used to protect himself from the world and its cruelties. "I always remembered the parks…... I'd watch as children would come dressed in their fineries, holding hands with their siblings, their mother….their father…." Unknowingly tears had begun to form in Erik's eyes. "They would look at me with both pity and disgust…then toss their coins and wander off to have candy…play games." Erik's gaze had softened but was even more distant than before. "Parks were where I watched as other children enjoyed that which I was denied because of the flaws of my flesh…"

Erik shook his head as if breaking out of his self-imposed trance. "This park though….is special to me." He turned smiling at Nadir. Nadir could do nothing more than smile and nod reassuringly at Erik. Oh how he wished he had more time to spend there before he headed back to Paris….

Erik looked at Nadir, "we'd best be getting back, you've a long journey my friend, and you'll not want to arrive after the supper hour." Nadir nodded in agreement. Both men rising in unison, and departing the Inn.

Nadir gave one last glance around the park as they walked back to the tavern. Though he'd not spotted the house, he was sure it had to be there. If nothing else, he'd plan to be back in Chauesser on April 10 th, yes, he would certainly be back for that celebration. Nadir sighed, but alas, that was still weeks and weeks away. He'd hoped he wouldn't have to wait that long, but he'd learned over his lifetime that patience was indeed a most sacred virtue.

Erik flinched as they reached the Tavern. His coachman was running toward him, a look of sheer horror on his face. "Sir, Monsieur Courtland! We've been looking all through the city for you." He ran up to Erik, panting heavily trying to catch his breath. The other coachman, Erik could see, was hitching up the horses hurriedly to the carriage.

"What is it?" Erik said, his right cheek began to twitch. "Sir…in Paris last night…we heard from one of the hansoms that came from there…Sir, two innkeepers are dead, a third lay likely dying as we speak…" His face turned white and he looked as though every drop of blood had ran from it, "Sir…it was Crawlings….the same boy that…"

Erik was at once on a dead run for the carriage. He quickly unlatched one of the horses, leaving the other three attached. He mounted the horse in one swift leap. "Nadir, do bring the carriage back to the house, I've got to go on ahead. Erik came up to the coachman. "Did the hansom say what happened?"

The coachman shook his head, "only that the two innkeepers were shot dead, clean through the heart. A third tried to stop him, but was shot also. The boy made off with the carriage, and no one has seen him since. They fear he's run off…."

Erik's blood ran cold. He hoped that the boy had never learned that Erik had not been the one he'd shot. That he'd not be interested in returning to the scene of the murders…to the winter house. Erik's heart was thumping in his throat. "Nadir," he called quietly to him, "are you armed?" Nadir nodded, he'd a pistol in his boot. "I shall see you at home!"

With that Erik turned, causing the horse to rise up on its hind legs. Erik's cape swirled behind him as he turned the animal and made off down the alley toward the edge of Chauesser. He was on his way home to Christine…he only hoped he'd not be too late…maybe the boy wouldn't have returned there, but he wasn't going to take any chances.

XXXXX

A small pile of discarded sheets lay on the floor surrounding Erik's desk where Christine had been sitting trying to write the note to Meg. She'd begin, and then not being satisfied, would start over. There seemed to be no set of words that she could use that would both keep her identity concealed, but yet allow her to convey to Meg how much she missed her, wished her well, that she was praying for her healing, hoping for her love. She drew out one last sheet. She'd begin again, and this time, she'd be certain it was suitable.

_My dearest Meg,_

_I was greatly grieved to learn of your tragedy. Surely it is a sad thing that someone would do such a horrid thing to another human being. I rest in the assurance of Nadir that you are receiving the finest of care. He believes you will make a full and speedy recovery. Nadir also shares that your mother's quarters are nearing completion at the Opera House. While we shall miss you and your mother greatly, we are deeply aware that this is where your future lies. Nadir will be traveling between our two cities a number of times in the coming months. Perhaps we can stay in touch through him if he will agree to be our courier. Though Stephan is growing stronger each day, I fear he is no longer himself. He will never be the man he once was, though I think his demeanor has improved. As I near the end of my illness, I shall want to call for you Meg, for truly I do not think I could get through it without you. I've no want to separate you from your new life, but at the end I will need you._

_I sincerely think of you by day, pray for you by night, and find my fondest company in the thoughts of your affection. Do take care of yourself, and your mother my dearest Meg. Until we meet again._

_Love, Elizabeth._

Christine put down the writing instrument, and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. She'd wanted to say so much more, but could not. She hoped that it would not be too many more days before she would be able to embrace Meg herself, though she had no idea when. She wanted to share in the joy of her news….she knew Meg would be pleased.

Though Christine could not say with absolutely certainty, and it had never been discussed, she was entirely certain that Meg would not be coming back to Courtland Manor, or the winter house…she'd grown beyond them, and now she had to look after her own happiness. What Madame Giry intended to do was still a mystery, though she'd no doubt in her mind that she would stay with Meg, as a devoted mother would. She wasn't yet herself a mother, but the deep devotion one soul has for another was growing more within her everyday. She'd no doubt that when the child was finally in her arms, she'd have met a person she was willing to lay her life down for.

Christine sealed the envelope with a wax seal that bore no insignia, nor distinguishable shape. She would send this along with Meg's gifts. Though time and distance separated them, there was a special bond that she and Meg had always shared…would always share. Perhaps that would have to be enough for them both.

She'd gone out to put the note with the gift for Meg, when she heard a knock at the door. Surely it wasn't Erik or Nadir, for neither of them would have knocked. "I'll see who it is" Christine called back over her shoulder as she knew the maids were busy in the kitchen preparing for dinner.

She walked toward the door. Odd she thought…she'd not heard anyone come up the road. She was reaching for the latch when she heard the dog start to bark ferociously, and she hesitated, though she wasn't sure why. She shook her head, she had to stop being so afraid…she reached out for the door again, certainly it would be a friend on the other side.

**Author's Notes:**

**Captain Oblivious**: Sorry about the sleep inducing language…I suppose I could market the story as a sedative or sleep aid! LOL! It just seems to slip out! Perhaps its because I do much of my writing in the middle of the night when the world is sound asleep!

Good to hear Susie got a little pampering…and that daddy helped! Awww…he's a good daddy, maybe he could give our dear Erik some pointers!

**DarkMoonLightBright**: I do like your long reviews! You have so much to say, and that is a good thing! Yes, in that day and period in history, both men and women were very restrained, especially when it came to being intimate. Of course, as with any period in history, there were many who did not fly by the accepted set of rules, and had many, many relationships…some things have never changed over thousands of years! I myself am a romantic, but have a deep affinity for commitment, which is what I think I love about gothic romances…the angst….the waiting…. For some in that period of history they waited their entire lives to be loved…and some grew old….never having had the love of their life….it is tragic, and sad, and wonderful, just the stuff that stories are made of! Each of the relationships in the story whether they are anchored, or blooming, or not yet discovered, hold a special place in my heart. Each couple is so unique, and so too is their love….awww….I've just made myself all misty-eyed…..dabs eyes with hanky

Some of the coming chapters are going to be either really long…when something is right in the middle, or a bit shorter…depending on what is happening….just to let you know!

**Phantomfan13**: You are a clever girl…it is POSSIBLE that Lady C could be lady Claire…but one really never knows…. No, I've not watched the 'Thunderbirds', though perhaps I should? I'll have to see if my local vendor carries 'Dragonheart'.

Good for you…forty hours are behind you! Dancer sounds kind of like Nadir…a bit unpredictable, but somebody you just have to love because they are always there….LOL. I have a hay story for you… A boy I dated when I was younger lived on a farm (I am a city-slicker) and I went out to help as they were bailing hay. They knew I was terrified of snakes and had been chasing one around the field with a tractor, and were pretty sure they knew where it was….so…..they called me out to the field to get them something to drink, because they'd seen the snake…you guessed it…I stepped right on it…and made something like a cartoon character and screamed, flew straight up in the air and ran so fast that I scared myself even more. They laughed about that for hours…days….needless to say….I got rid of the boy!

**Poetzproblem**: Thank you for worrying about me! Yes, my computer went down yesterday and it took a long while to get it working again…I almost didn't get to make the post! My, my, I see that over-active brain of yours is in high-drive! I cannot reveal what will happen in the coming chapters, though some of your speculations may be correct…or it is possible there are several smoke screens going on here to hide an even deeper plot….ohhhhhh smiles mischievously Alas…all good things must be eased into, one littly bitty bit at a time….

**Stellalorelai**: Yes our poor Nadir…the angst he feels…so torn…so conflicted…and yes, his growing adoration for Madame Giry could prove to be a "sticky-wicket" for him. Couldn't you just see Erik laughing at him? I know I could…and he thought Nadir was taking himself far too seriously…Erik had likely known from the moment he woke up at Courtland Manor and saw the two of them together…he sensed a spark between them way back when…in truth….I think Nadir fooled Erik…just this once!

Oh, I almost forgot…I found out through another friend that they are having a "Gerry" convention in Las Vegas next year….oh my, I think I might have to get a ticket for that one…I always wanted to go back to Vegas!

**Grotto1**: You are most welcome for being part of our little Phamily. I appreciate your kind words regarding the story. I really have enjoyed writing, it is very cathartic for me. It is interesting that what one person views as a "gift" the other views as a "weakness". I've seldom been able to express myself in few words…perhaps it explains why when I first went to college I'd gone through two years for Contract Law…one must indeed love words to do that sort of thing! No, I've not become a lawyer, though I dare say all of that legalease has come in handy in my other work because I work with contracts all of the time! I wish that I had the capability to be short and to the point, and yet be diplomatic…ahhh…something I shall have to set as a life goal…perhaps not until my epitaph …She Lived, She Died, We cried, Amen.

Your tag name suits you. Both solitude and simplicity rule your life. You like organization and value brevity…all admirable qualities…no wonder you like POTO!

**ChristineLovesPhantom**: Welcome to the family! We hope your stay with us will be a long and happy one. Yes, the size of the story is daunting if you are just finding it now. I'm sorry that I've been responsible for our newest phamily members missing out on the last days of summer to sit next to their computers….although, I'm very grateful that they did! Thank you for your kind words. I am always humbled by the knowledge that I can bring a bit of happiness to someone somewhere in the world!

Now, as is tradition, we shall have a stab at your tag name…it is pretty straight forward…I think…? You obviously believed that the end of the original story (sorry Gaston) was wrong, and that Christine should have ended up with the Phantom….perhaps that is what first attracted you to 'The World As It Should Have Been'. OR, perhaps you and I share the same first name, and you too are madly in love with the Phantom? Now, if you are willing, please do share with your new little Phamily, how you arrived at your tag name?

**MeowLeFae:** Welcome to the Phamily! We all hope that you stay with us to the end, and find the sometimes bumpy ride! Thank you for the compliments…having anyone tell me it is on their list of favorites is quite humbling. I appreciate your words more than you know. I am sorry that I consumed an entire weekend, though I do hope it did put a smile on your face from time to time! I know when I find something that I like, I get wrapped up in and it is like the rest of the world doesn't even exist…reading does that for me…and now I've found that writing is doing the same thing….just what I need, yet another obsession! LOL! Yes, I am looking forward to whatever sort of resolution there is with Erik's past…and if it truly does indeed involve Raoul…it seems far too many things are falling into place for them to be a coincidence…and after all, our dear Erik doesn't believe in coincidence! Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Now, as has become our tradition, we shall delve into your tag name, though I dare say yours is a bit tricky….Meow….you are either a cat lover, or love the game of cat and mouse…the LeFae…I have a feeling it is either your last name or…something in French that I do not know…sadly, I've not studied French….yet…that is next on my 'life-goal' list. So, if you are willing, kindly do share the origins of your tag name with your new little Phamily!


	111. Behind Closed Doors

Chapter 111 Behind Closed Doors 

It was nearing two o'clock in the afternoon when Meg woke. The house had been so quiet she'd nearly thought she was the only one in it. If it hadn't been for the carefully hung clothes on the posters of her mother's bed, her previous soiled and sodden garments had been removed from the room. She desperately wanted to go back to the room she'd stayed in before, to take in the sight in the full light of day, but she knew she'd could not. Oh how she wished there was some way to do so undetected so that at the very least she might retrieve the bottle in the drawer. She'd slept peacefully these last hours, but the sheer dread of the nightmares returning seemed nearly worth the risk of being discovered.

She stretched and yawned several times before she was able to pull herself from the bed. Today she would attempt to dress herself, though the corset might be a bit troublesome. She'd become rather good at maneuvering her arms to draw it in somewhat tightly. It took her several minutes, but soon she was dressed, slipping on her shoes, and then thinking better of it, she slipped them off. Stocking feet would allow her to move more quietly along the hall.

She opened the door slowly, peeking out and seeing no one, she ventured into the hall, drawing the door to a close behind her. Quietly, she made her way down the long hall to the room on the end. Reaching out, she put her hand on the knob turning it. Nothing. She cocked her head to the side, perhaps she'd not turned it far enough. Trying again, this time twisting it to the left and then the right.

Down the long hall Raoul had just come out of his room. At first he gasped as he saw Meg at the door. Then he silently breathed relief remembering he'd used the skeleton key that very morning to secure the door before he retired, this very issue in mind.

He smiled. Meg was no doubt looking for something, but he guessed it was her curious nature that brought her the door that afternoon; she was likely thinking "how large a wax spill is it?" Raoul laughed under his breath. Slowly, stealthily he made his way down the hall.

Meg had been so intent on the handle, gently rattling it trying to be as quiet as possible that she didn't hear Raoul come up behind her. She shook the door once more, finally giving in to the realization that the door was locked, and without the key she'd not gain entrance.

"Are you looking for this?" Raoul said reaching over her shoulder dangling the key in front of her. Meg let out a little yelp, bringing her hand to her chest. "Raoul! You gave me a fright….I'm…I was just…Raoul! You could have scared me to death!"

Raoul was laughing as he drew Meg into his arms, hugging her. "Now, now, Meg, it isn't all that bad is it? After all, you knew the room wasn't ready, that is why you were staying with your mother!" Raoul was rocking her from side to side, muffling his laughter in the soft loose strands of her hair.

"Raoul DeChagny, that isn't the least bit humorous, you startled me so, my heart is beating with such ferocity that I think I shan't catch my breath for hours!"

Raoul felt in that moment somewhat like a playmate who snuck up on his friend in a game of hide and seek, catching his friend unaware. The mere thought of it tickled Raoul so, he could not stop laughing. Though Meg was genuinely irritated and aghast that she'd been caught, she found Raoul's laughter contagious, and soon found herself laughing though she didn't want to.

Raoul scooped Meg up into his arms, walking toward the stairs. "Now, if there's anything you need in that room we shall ask Madeline to retrieve it for you. A new coat of wax is drying my dear, and lest you've want to put footprints in it, you'll have to allow it to run its course."

Raoul carried Meg down the stairs, and down into the study where they'd spent the entire afternoon before reading. "I'd like very much to spend time reading from a special story…a letter really, if you don't mind at all." Meg wouldn't have objected to watching Raoul shine his sword, his shoes, or any other mundane thing that Raoul could do…she only wanted to be wherever he was…what they did mattered little.

Raoul used his elbow to push open the door. Walking in he sat Meg on the cushions of the divan. "Now let me see, I was going to read from this yesterday…" Raoul began to ascend the ladder. Meg's eyes grew wide…not that book….not that book! But yes, Raoul's eyes were scanning once again on the third shelf…

"Raoul!" Meg called out with a bit of startle in her voice. He turned nearly falling off the ladder reaching out to the shelving to maintain his balance. He stared at her as if she'd seen a ghost.

"Meg…what is it…" Raoul thinking perhaps she'd had a pain, had seen something out of the window…

"Raoul, did my mother leave here today…I've not seen her…she's not been about at all, and I wondered if she may have left."

Raoul flashed Meg a relieved smile, "why yes," he said turning back toward the shelving, "she went into Paris. She said something about not being able to see the dormitories properly yesterday, and she'd gone for another look, and I believe she said to purchase some flowers for Sara's grave."

Raoul was scanning the books again. Meg's heart began to rise in her throat. "Raoul!" she called out to him again. This time he jumped, but didn't let go of the ladder.

"Meg, are you purposely trying to dislodge me from this ladder?" He said in a half jovial manner. She had to think quickly, anything to distract him from putting his hands on that book.

"Raoul," she said in a slightly more refined tone now that she had his attention, "I know it shan't be long and it will be the dinner hour…but I was wondering…" she smiled at him sweetly, "if you wouldn't mind having a cup of tea with me before we read."

Raoul came down the ladder. Of course a lady upon rising always had tea, he felt remiss as her host for not having arranged for it. Having only woken several minutes no doubt before Meg, he'd not made those preparations. "Meg but of course." He walked over the table raising the silver bell from the porcelain plate it sat on. Ringing it several times, yet no one came. Silently Meg was praying that Raoul would have to go out to investigate, perhaps giving her the opportunity to slip the information from the book before he returned. Raoul stood for several moments and when no one came, he scowled. Leaning down to kiss Meg on the cheek before he left the room to look for Madeline.

Meg breathed a sigh of relief. The door had no sooner closed behind him than she was quickly climbing the ladder, stretching as far as she could. She'd just grasped the book when the door opened. Thinking herself discovered by Raoul a second time she turned to look and found that it was Madeline. Meg was startled, her fingertips slipped and she came crashing down from the ladder, book in hand. She landed on the edge of the divan, the book being flung across the room as she did. The wind having been knocked out of her lungs, she was unable to speak. She looked up at Madeline as she felt herself growing warm and the shock of fall settling in.

"Miss Meg…Miss MEG!" Madeline's eyes were wide with horror. She reached out and started dabbing about Meg's nose. It was not until she saw Madeline draw the cloth back that she realized she was bleeding. Madeline helped her lay down on the divan, and quickly ran from the room leaving the door slightly ajar. "Vicomte…." She could hear Madeline calling for Raoul in the outer corridor.

Meg was trying to gasp, the first little bits of air just now starting to enter her lungs. She had to get that book…. She looked over and saw that the sheets had flown out of the book and now laid under the chair across the room, visible for anyone who might get down low enough to see under the chair. She had to retrieve them, she simply had to..

She rolled herself off of the divan, her chest throbbing from the lack of air. She crawled on her hands and knees over to the chair, reaching under it snatching the papers. She rolled to her back, and quickly slipped the papers deep into her dress along side the corset below her arm. She'd no sooner stowed the paper than Raoul came bursting into the room, Madeline on his heels.

"MEG!" Raoul came over scooping her up into his arms. "What on earth were you doing!" His voice contained both a scolding and concerned tone. He laid Meg down on the couch, dabbing at her nose again, as the flow of blood had not stopped. "Madeline, do send the coachman out to the stables, I'd like to send a messenger to retrieve the doctor…"

"NO!" Meg gasped, finally being able to take in her first full lung of air. "No.." she said more quietly, inhaling and exhaling with great effort. "I am fine…I….I was….I was trying to…retrieve…the book…I….lost…my…"

Raoul lifted his fingers to her lips. "Hush Meg. It is alright, we shan't call for the doctor if you'd not like me to. I wonder only at the blood from your nose.." Meg held up her hand. "I have them…them…all the time…at the Opera House…if I bumped…my nose.." Raoul again lifted his finger tips to Meg's lips. "Do not strain yourself my dear." He looked up and nodded at Madeline who left the room.

"Now Meg," Raoul said, helping her up into a sitting position, and then leaning her back into his arms. "Whatever were you doing trying to retrieve a book on such a high shelf, I was going to be gone but just a few minutes to secure the tea, I'd have gladly fetched any book you wished for upon my return." He reached down dabbing at the bottom of her nose.

"I simply wanted to retrieve the book…the one you'd wanted from the night before. I was going to surprise you when you came back, after all it was my turn to play a trick on you." She'd started to regain her breath.

Raoul laughed, pulling her shoulders in slightly. "Meg, you must be careful. There will be plenty of time for all of that. Right now, you should concentrate on getting better. I dare say falls like that cannot help you progress my dear!"

Meg smiled as he dabbed at her nose again. "I am sorry Raoul..sorry to have caused such a commotion." "Do not worry for it, but please promise me that you shall let me help you, let Madeline help you if you need something, hmm?"

Meg nodded her head. "So, now…just where is that book?" Meg blushed, but was inwardly relieved. She raised her hand and pointed over at the book that was splayed open on the floor across the room.

Raoul scowled in a mocking fashion, "all the way over there?" He rose, laughing as he walked over to it and lifted it at the binding. Settling in next to Meg, he helped her recline with her head against his chest. "Now let me see….ah yes, 'Love Letter', written by John Adams, April 20, 1763." Raoul smiled as he kissed Meg's forehead, cracking the binding to the first page. He would read while the tea was readied.

It would have been a perfect afternoon had it not been for Meg's fall. Perhaps there was now more than one reason to wait until the next day for a ride in the country. Now at least he would have another reason other than that which truly kept him wanting to keep Meg indoors on such a lovely afternoon. No one knew where Crawlings was, and Raoul was not inclined to take any chances. It seemed to him that it had proved difficult enough to keep Meg safe under his own roof!

XXXX

Delivery carriages had been arriving all morning, and now the last one had just left. Raoul had been glancing out the window at the stable house intently watching for one carriage in particular, and having seen the bed arrive, he breathed a sigh of relief. By this evening the room would be ready. It filled him with such pleasure to know that he could do this for Meg…and it gave him the sense of transition that his heart so yearned for. Christine's picture had been moved, the room would now be prepared for Meg, and with Meg alone in mind. This would help both of them move into what he hoped would be a wonderful and peaceful courtship.

He turned his head back and was about to begin reading the next page when he realized Meg's head was slumped against the side of his chest. She'd fallen asleep. He smiled. Slowly, carefully, he slid out from underneath her, bringing her head to rest on the fringe rimmed pillow. He looked down at her sleeping face, and inwardly felt a warmth. He loved her, would come to love her more, and hoped she could one day love him as her husband, and not her dear friend.

Glancing out the window, Raoul was eager to find if all the items had finally arrived, and would then set the entire household in motion preparing the room. He was thankful that Madame Giry had conveyed her wishes and instructions to Madeline, so they might begin their work before she arrived with the final touches. Surely she would be along in a few hours to see to it.

Raoul carefully slid open the door, and slipped out into the hall, making his way outside to the carriage house. He was equally as eager to find out what his carriage driver had learned of the happenings in Paris.

He needed to know that Meg was safe, that they would be safe there. He'd thought in his mind about taking Meg and Madame Giry off to Amore', their summer cottage North of Paris, if there was not a quick resolution. There they could be undisturbed, as it was rather remote, though far less luxurious than the manor they were in now. If things became too difficult for them there, he would have to revisit the idea. He walked resolutely toward the stable master. He'd make his decision based on what they'd found.

XXXX

Erik was feverishly jabbing at the horse's side. He'd not wish to injure the beast, but a life might depend on his swift arrival. He was already regretting having tarried in town for lunch, surely he and Nadir could have found something at the winter house for lunch, and then Christine would not have found herself alone. His mind wandered to Erphan….perhaps the young man would have detected an intruder, being sensitive to it when Erik had been out in the pasture several evenings past. Perhaps he'd have come to inquire of someone he did not know, perhaps… Erik shook his head, leaning down all the further. He simply had to get home!

XXX

Nadir was equally anxious to arrive at the winter house. He had fully understood Erik's intentions, but this was the first time that Erik had not invited him to accompany him, to offer him a horse to ride by his side. It puzzled Nadir, and he hoped he'd not lost his faith in him because of the incident the previous evening in the sun room. Nadir had never, never, betrayed Erik. His trust meant the world to him.

Nadir was running through in his mind the conversation that he and Erik had over lunch. The men in that shop were not to be trusted, the shopkeeper had given Erik due warning about them. They were men of town, but did not have about them a goodly reputation. They'd been known to frequent taverns into the wee hours, taking advantage of situations and people wherever they could, just above the scrutiny of the law. The shopkeeper had used such unsavory adjectives as abhorrent, vile, inscrutable, whenever he spoke of them.

Nadir was thankful he'd not revealed much about he or Erik. He'd nearly succumbed to the oldest set of trickery in the book, bait and switch. They'd offered him a little nibble about the town lore, and in turn, they were fishing for something, though he wasn't certain what it was, as their visit had been interrupted, surreptitiously, by Erik.

Nadir sighed, the carriage was at full speed, he'd had no doubt, but even that didn't satisfy him. He wanted to be there for Erik, as Erik had always been there when Nadir needed him most.

XXXX

Madame Giry stood in the opening of the first room, her eyes wide. There was a small, but formal foyer leading to two single doors, and yet another set of double onyx doors. There was a small chandelier at the center of the slightly domed ceiling, which was crowned with the new French moldings that had become so popular as of late. The room was bathed in onyx and shades of cream and sage, brass fixtures and lamps accenting in just the right amounts. A beautiful onyx table lay at the center, a very large cut crystal vase in the middle of it. No doubt for displaying arrangements of the flora that grew in the Opera House gardens.

The walls of the circular rooms had six small arched recesses, with shelves protruding. Each containing busts of great composers, and famous ballerinas. The floor had inlaid tiles, polished marble the finishing edges. Certainly a group of twelve could gather quite comfortably in this well appointed room. Madame Giry thought that this elegance would likely lead to a considerably more modest set of private rooms. This room was likely designed to receive ballet mistresses visiting from other companies in order to give a proper opinion of the elegance of their Opera House.

Madame Giry ran her hand along the molding as she walked to the first door on the left. Inside, was a small, rather luxurious water closet. All of the newest advances in plumbing. She marveled at it really. To have her own private water closet was a luxury she thought, but it did not contain a bathtub. She sighed. She could easily share that with the ballerinas, as she'd seen not one, but several fully appointed water closets in the dormitories. She was extremely grateful to have this much at her access. It did make sense to have one so close to a room that was designed to greet and entertain guests.

She moved to the other single door on the right. Inside was a bed chamber, nearly twice as large as the area she'd had in her previous room for her bed. A new bed, though no bedding nor mattress were present, lay at the center. There was a small circular window above the head of it, and she was relieved to see it too was on hinges so it could be opened to enjoy the fresh air. There was a beautiful vanity along the right wall, and along side that was another slightly smaller door.

Madame Giry's head was swimming. She could scarcely believe all that she was seeing. This door led into a small room, that was lined with shelving and poles for hanging clothing, and at the far end, a large dressing mirror, with sets of drawers on either side of it. That explained the absence of a dresser and armoire in the bed chamber proper. A large brass lantern was at the entrance to the room, that would provide more than enough light she thought.

She walked back into the bed chamber. The door along the left wall, she imagined, led to the sitting room that DeChagny had mentioned to her. She remembered this part of the building, and knew this area would be decidedly small as there was little space left, she thought, to accommodate much. The pitch of the roof there had been like that at the other end of the hall, very sharp and slanted. But she had hopes that there was enough room for a table and several chairs so that she and Meg could visit in privacy when they needed to. She had already been humbled by the thoughtfulness of her employers. They'd not spared expenses in making certain that she would be comfortable.

She opened this door to find another small room, a private water closet with a large claw-foot tub. Her breath was taken away by the luxuriousness of the room itself, it had everything she imagined a woman would need. A wonderful window opened above the tub overlooking the gardens below. There at the side was a heavy onyx curtain affixed in swag fashion that she could release whenever she needed her privacy. She smiled yet again, this was entirely overwhelming to her.

She returned to the bed chamber. How on earth had they fit all of this into one little corner of the Opera House? She decided her mental perspective of the space must be somewhat altered, for certainly the room was indeed there, she'd just never noticed it.

Making her way back into the foyer, she sighed, looking at the double doors that most certainly had to lead to the sitting room. Though she tried to calm herself, realizing that what lay behind that door would certainly be a small sitting room, though her heart leapt at the possibilities as she'd already been surprised by everything she'd found thus far.

She reached out grabbing hold of the handle. Carefully she pushed it open. There, on the other side of the door, her eyes beheld something that she could only have dreamed of. There was a room with highly polished floors, a very large Persian rug lay on the floor, with two sitting couches on either side of a long low tea table. A chandelier, a somewhat smaller version but an exact likeness of the one in the foyer presided over the center of the sitting area. But, it was what lay beyond that which impressed Madame Giry the most.

There was a set of French doors, inlaid with beveled glass panes, covered delicately with the sheerest of white silk drapes. She walked past all of the other things she would return to examine…the doors called to her. It was twenty paces to the doors. She inhaled deeply and exhaled as she pushed both doors open. Her breath caught in her throat… raising her hand to her chest, the other rising to cover her gaping mouth.

She was now standing on a terrace. It was lined with high thick pillars topped at chest height with a thick sturdy railing made of stone. Each corner was adorned with sculptures of angels, holding what appeared to be lanterns that could be lit so that she could enjoy the space as evening set in. There was a large wrought-iron table with four chairs in the center of it, and a set of hewn-stone benches along the sides. She could easily entertain a dozen guests there she thought to herself. Small topiaries were situated in corners and other places, giving the terrace the feeling of a French country garden.

Slowly, she walked over to the ledge across from the doors. The terrace overlooked the Opera House gardens, and beyond that, Madame Giry had the most glorious view of Paris she'd seen in a very long time. She stood entirely captivated by all she'd seen.

This had been built for her, designed for her to occupy. A fitting reward for her years of dutiful service, and years of dedication to the art she so desperately loved. A little ballerina years ago only dreamed of such things, and now…here she was…in the midst of the most wonderful thing she'd seen anywhere in any opera house she'd ever visited. She was truly blessed.

She wandered back inside, her eyes scanning all the fine appointments in the sitting room. There was a small desk off in one corner, a large lamp and window lay just above it. Yet another corner held a hutch of sorts, filled with a set of china…very much looking like the formal pattern she'd seen at Raoul's house. Behind a small half-wall was a tiny sink and cupboard. No doubt a little kitchen should she have need for it. In the final corner behind yet another half-wall, was a small high table and two chairs. If she and Meg wished to take their dinner there, they certainly could.

It was then, that it hit her, like a speeding train bound for destinations unknown….. She fell to her knees and began to sob. This was more than any ballet mistress could have ever expected, so much more than she could have wanted….it seemed that she was being led to stay in Paris, to pursue her life-long dream…and now…all this had been prepared for her….how could she refuse? That made the decision to leave Erik and Christine that much more difficult…but she'd begged God for a sign….and he'd provided it.

**Author's Notes:**

**Dear faithfuls**: I could not reveal the next set of circumstances in this chapter…..you will see why in the next chapter. HOWEVER…lest I be hunted like a beast in the wild….I will tell you here (our little secret of course) that I've no intentions to hurt Christine…. One of you have rightly guessed who is on the other side of the door. Which one of the guesses I cannot tell…. It will be revealed tomorrow, I promise!

**Captain Oblivious**: You and that darned frying pan…you really have to stop wielding stuff around, you could have hurt (sorry, thought I'd slip and say who it was didn't you?) LOL I promise, all will forgiven on the morrow…at least I hope so!

Yes, last days of work are sad…as the summer wanes, and the reality of what the next nine months will bring (loads and loads of homework no doubt!) sets in. I am sure you and Susie will have a wonderful time at school…and though I've said it before…we hope you keep us updated….see…I'm acting like a mother hen already!

**DarkMoonLightBright**: My dear, would I hurt a creature as lovely as Christine? For surely Erik would hunt me down with his lasso! Hmmm…interesting…you are the first to voice your concern for the elder woman locked in her room…it is sad…but can you blame the family? The poor granddaughter is in fear of losing her job, her mother no doubt is embarrassed by her own mother's behavior…she's become a town nuisance…but her daughter doesn't know of her true past….hmmm.

Ah yes, the baby's nursery….I think the Phamily should pick the color…o.k., we've one vote for green….I myself like the deep blue that one sees just after the sun sets, and only a glimmer of the rays are still visible giving just enough light to reveal the hidden royal hues of the night sky….ah yes…that is my vote.

The twitching face…yes it is a source of irritation for Erik…a source of worry…though he would never readily admit to it. He's so enjoyed having a face that didn't have to be covered. The fear that it would have to be covered again. The feeling, I suppose, somewhat like a person who's been in dental braces for four years, had them removed for two months only to be told they'd have to have them put on again, and for this time, it could be the rest of their lives! Yikes…I've just scared myself! Anyway, you get the idea of the inner angst that Erik must be suffering…our ever brooding, self-suffering Erik.

**Poetzproblem**: Yes, my darned cliff hangers. It will all make sense tomorrow! I dare say that is the only advantage those that are just encountering our story now has…they can read on to the next chapters without waiting for an update! If you're ready this you've already found my hint for tomorrow…Christine is not going to be hurt…. Sighs thankfully I had visions of being chased through the streets of Paris by an angry mob….

**Crayann**: Sorry I did not get to your review until this chapter! I understand the busy commitments of work…do I ever, I'm on the go constantly… I am glad to be a bright spot in someone's day…that makes my day a bit brighter just thinking of it…. See how this happiness comes full circle! I love that about life…we can all make each other happy…just by sharing our own happiness… (Sorry…my philosophical side is trying to peek out!) I was up far too late last night writing…POTO blaring on the stereo again….I am thinking my neighbors might turn me in for noise pollution soon….either that or they are all too afraid of me….thinking me to be an eccentric… Anyone walking by my house at 2:00 a.m. probably thinks me to be quite mad….POTO blaring…dozens of candles burning….yikes, maybe I am a bit mad! Oh how I love it though….my wee bit of happiness in every day!

**PhantomLover05**: Yes, if you put it that way, I would be terrified by the Phantom if I thought he was really angry with me for some reason. I'd almost beg for the lasso, rather than be tormented by the thoughts of what he might do if he was in a fit of rage…we saw how he pushed down his beloved Christine when she took off his mask….so yes, if he was truly mad…I'd be whimpering like a small puppy!

**PhantomFan13**: Yet another apology for the cliffies…I don't mean to torture anyone, I promise…I am sorry I cannot answer the questions you pose…for if I did, I'd be revealing far too much…and that I am afraid…would ruin the suspense!

**Trueinspiration**: Thank you for the compliment. Yes, Nadir's moment with Erik was a bit emotional…but I think Erik could sense in his gut that there was going to be a long separation between he and Nadir….and he didn't want Nadir to miss out on happiness…I guess that is the truest form of friendship…of love….when we can let someone go that we love, we need….because we want what is best for them…even if it brings us pain. That is how deep I imagine the relationship to be between Erik and Nadir…I guess that is why the tearful goodbye they shared. Christine is safe my dear…much safer than you can even imagine.

**PhantomsRogue**: I very much enjoyed reading your explanation of your tag name. And do not worry about the explanation being too long, you can tell I am rather verbose myself! It described what I think many of us who are drawn to POTO feel. You have to be a bit of a recluse, a romantic, a loner, to truly appreciate the material. I've not seen 'XMen' though I have heard of the character. Untouchable skin… In school, I was not an outcast really, but, and do not think this is shameless self-promotion…but I was rather a brain-bookworm sort of person, always being blamed for raising the curve in classes…that sort of thing. So, even those I counted among my friends were very different from me. I worked, I read, I studied…that was pretty much my life. So not fitting into school is something I can entirely relate to. Yes, I agree, we should each follow our own path, no matter what anyone else thinks (law abiding, as you said, is a given). For we are given but one life to live, and if we aren't true to what our heart calls us to do, aren't we in essence wasting the gift?

Funny you should mention ballet and the instruments that you play. When I was a very young girl I took ballet…wasn't terribly good at it though, I lack the long legs for graceful repose! I was trained on the piano, the violin, and dabbled with the guitar though I preferred the piano. I think piano music is one of the most beautiful sounds in the world! Probably in-part why I love POTO so much! I've always wanted to play the harp…I think that shall be one of the next things I delve into…though I dare say it is expensive, nearly $ 10,000 for the harp I want! So, that may have to wait a wee bit! Clarinet is also a fine instrument…I've not been much good with instruments of that sort….my lung capacity allows for singing, but not the protracted air-power that a wood-wind or flute would require. I've someone close to me that is a lovely flutist…I appreciate that music very much as well. Sorry for the ramblings…yet another one of my passions revealed!

Florida! I was just there in March for a much needed rest. Of course we went to Disney World and the like, but I found much fascination sitting by the ocean, just staring out at the water, and admiring its power…. The alligators (inland) were a bit unsettling, as I'm not used to them. I made the acquaintance of two small girls from England, who were speaking in their very proper English…it was entirely adorable! The one said to the other, "Chloe, not to worry about the alligators, they'll not like our blood!" It was so cute!

I spent an entirely lovely day in Celebration City, dining alfresco, and sipping a cup of coffee at Barney's! We even rode the trolley through town…that was a wonderfully relaxing day….it was odd though…we didn't see very many people….it was a little bit like "Smallville" in that way!

Oh, my fellow Latin aficionado….I've one for you….Carpe Diem ! Until the morrow!

**ElvieIII**: I hope you find that our Phamily is very close knit…every member deserves to be acknowledged! Your explanation of your name implies that you've given quite a little thought to it, which is good, it was not a name by default! I've always found people that have Roman numerals behind their name to be quite fascinating…crazy I know since normally it is given them by their parents…but in this case, you've "dubbed" yourself! Our Phamily is comprised, I believe of Gerard/Phantom lovers, but we will forgive you for adoring Orlando. He is quite handsome, and will make an entirely lovely character as he gets a bit older and a bit more distinguished. He has the depth for it….maybe he and our beloved Gerard will find themselves in the same movie one day! Now I have to revise a statement I made many chapters ago (this will make sense if you've been reading all the reviews of previous chapters) My ideal movie would have to be the 'Four Musketeers' Gerard, Christian Bale, Orlando Bloom, and Johnny Depp. Now THAT would be a star 'studded' cast! O.k., sorry for the detour…my mind wanders like a puppy off a leash!

Yes, April 10th…hmmmm it just might be….then again…maybe not…don't get out those birthday candles just yet…..

Now have you heard the famous quote by Benjamin Franklin? "Getting started is half done!" So, if you've started that many stories, you really should finish them…at least the ones you're passionate about! It really is good for the soul to see a completed work. The stories you write become a part of you. As Dickens once said, they become like your children, things you "birth" and then send out into the world hoping you've done well enough that they will survive. You should finish them….

Finally, I would offer you a "Mea Culpa" about inciting the need to watch POTO three times…but alas I cannot….I've watched it hundreds of times (in parts)…so if I'm furthering the obsession….I cannot help it….it draws me just as it does you!

**ChristinelovesPhantom**: I've not been accused of being evil before…that was not my intent, though I can see your point entirely! LOL! If you'd like to imagine my note at the beginning of the reviews as a 'milk-bone' for waiting dogs, please do so! I'd offer you a cookie instead…but after all, chocolate isn't good for dogs! LOL again! Sorry, on a bit of a caffeine high right now! You are most welcome for the regular updates. My heart aches over the weekends because I am working nearly fifteen hours a day then, so I cannot update…but I promise, as long as I can manage, I will update frequently! Thank your for coming this far in the story with us…we should all get badges of some sort for making it passed chapter 100 don't you think?

**MeowLeFae**: I have been utterly amazed at the explanations of the origins of the tag names of some of our most recent additions to the Phamily! There is so many different thoughts out there….and yours is no exception! I can understand, a fairy-cat reminds me of the story of 'Puss in Boots' for some reason! LOL! Yes, cat lovers seem to be a good match for POTO fans because anyone who loves cats knows that they are loners…they stop and let you scratch behind their ears, they love you yes…but THEY own YOU, not the other way around…a cat is never truly POSSESSED by anyone!

Yes, you share your sentiments with another of our Phamily members who wanted to help the old woman escape from the room….it seems cruel doesn't it?

Until tomorrow…MEOW!

**Elisha1984**: Welcome to the family! We hope your stay with our little Phantomfamily is a long and happy one! Thank you for going through all the work to read so many chapters! I mentioned to another reviewer 'ChristinelovesPhantom' that we really should have badges for those that have read passed chapter 100! Thank you for your kind words…Favorite? Awww…. That makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside!

I hope you'll forgive me, but I do from time to time use cliffhangers…though I do not intend to inflict pain on anyone…because if I didn't, the chapters would be twenty pages long and I'd only be able to update once a week! So, I hope I do not cause too much pain…and I hope that all will be forgiven tomorrow!

Now, for our tradition….the origins of your name…. I think it is fair to say that Elisha is your first name…but the 1984…birth year?….year of graduation?….. Please do share with your new Phamily…if you are willing!

**Stellalorelai**: Ahhh yes, Gerry will no doubt not want to put himself anywhere near where there might be hundreds of screaming women all with only one thing on their mind…Gerry! I don't know of all of the details, but when I find out, I'll let you know!

Christine HAS to open the door….but not to worry, she will be fine….We've all grown so protective of our little mommy-to-be! Erik would be so proud of us!

Hmmm your tag name…well, I'm thinking that Stella might come from one of your favorite characters from a book, or perhaps an old movie you saw and just fell in love with. Lore, might actually be your real first name, and lai…perhaps you have an affinity for all things Hawaiian? Not a good job at guessing on this one I'm afraid. Now, would you like to share with your phamily?

**Icherisherik**: Welcome back! We were worried about you! I'm sorry about the troubles you've been having…and school only complicates things…having to get back into a routine and everything. Yes, much has happened since you've been gone. I want you to know that I sincerely appreciate your words of encouragement. I am very humbled, and I know I say that a great deal, but I am most sincere. I started this story in hopes of resolving my own angst with the ending of POTO, and I found a great number of friends along the way! I couldn't continue this without all of your encouragement! Yes, our little phamily has really grown…it makes me very happy!

**Draegon-fire**: Your review was very insightful. There is so much going on in this story. Kind of like real life in that way I suppose…a little extra drama perhaps…but we always have more than just one thing going on in our life. It's sort of that "six degrees of separation" thing. You never know who is connected to whom or how! It was good to hear from you!


	112. Heartbeats

Chapter 112 Heartbeats 

Erik's heart pounded all the harder as the horse crested the final hill before the winter house came into view. He was slightly relieved to see no carriage outside, at least one that was obvious anyway. He was at least able to breathe. There seemed to be no sudden movements anywhere on the property, with the exception of the dog who was running back and forth in the yard barking. Erik's eyes scanned the horizon, and as far as he could see in any direction, there was nothing.

The closer he came the more into focus the yard became, and then he saw it. A singular horse, lead laying on the ground out in front of the house. He'd not seen the steed before, and that was very likely what the dog was barking at. He'd not slow in his descent, though it appeared that everything was just as he'd left it.

As he came down the hill he noticed at once a figure standing at the door. He couldn't see it fully, but could see the bottom of the person's cloak, and the shoes, it was decidedly a man. Just as he came inside the fencing, he saw as the figure disappeared inside the house.

Erik rode into the yard, dismounted the horse and was up the stairs, flinging the door open, bounding in through they foyer. "Christine!" His voice was shrill, his eyes darting back and forth, she was not in the foyer. His heart thumped as he came around the corner, and found Christine lying on the divan in the parlor, the man leaning over her. He rushed towards him, grabbing him by the cloak, spinning the poor startled man on his heels.

"Erik!" Christine said with apologetic embarrassment in her voice. "Whatever are you doing?" Erik's eyes flashed between her face, and the doctor who Erik now had lifted off of the floor and was holding him dangling at arms length. Erik flinched, the nerve in his right cheek began to jump as he returned the more than startled man gently to his feet. "Sir, please do accept my apology…I've just come from the Chauesser…." Erik was huffing, wiping his brow.

The doctor sat down in the chair, and motioned for Erik to do the same. Christine sat up from her reclined position. "Erik?" she said with a bit of concern in her voice. Erik didn't want to frighten her, but at the same time, he knew she needed to be aware, and on her guard, though he doubted he'd let her out of his site until that boy was found.

Erik sighed heavily, leaning back against the chair. He looked at the doctor and then at Christine. He had to tell them. "Last night in Paris….two innkeepers were shot dead, a third man's life hangs in the balance as we speak…he'd only been able to tell them who it was before he lost consciousness." Erik looked solemnly at both of them. "It was Crawlings…the one who shot Sara…"

Christine's hand flew to her mouth, "NO!" Christine's face went ashen. The doctor was looking somewhat unsettled himself. "They've no idea where he went, only that he'd retrieved his carriage, and hasn't been found in all of Paris…no doubt he's fled." Erik was staring at the floor. "No doubt the boy's blood-thirst will continue, and to that end, I've need to guard my household…my apologies Sir…not seeing your carriage, or recognizing your horse, led me to be a bit more aggressive shall we say…"

The doctor nodded, "no harm was done. I can see that you've much improved since last I saw you, and no doubt you've been eating…your strength is certainly not lacking if you can raise the likes of me!"

Erik smirked, he'd terrified the poor man, and though he was sorry to have done it, something about the feeling of instilling fear in another man, even if briefly, brought back an old sense of satisfaction which Erik had quickly dismissed.

"Yes, I should say the affections of my wife have done well for my spirit, and my body…it is with her help that I have improved!" Erik smiled at Christine who was blushing heavily now. "Nadir shall be along at any time now with the carriage…and Sara…he'll be heading off to Paris."

Erik looked around at the packages neatly wrapped on the table by the door. "Are those the gifts for Meg?" Christine nodded, smiling she said, "and do not worry, I did not peek at your gift, though I must say I was tempted!"

Erik laughed. Returning his attentions to the doctor he said, "did I interrupt an examination when I came in…do you need some privacy?" The doctor smiled at Christine and then at Erik. "I dare say you came just at the right time sir. I'd just started the examination, and though it will take a trained ear, I'd like you to have a listen first before I do."

Erik looked inquisitively at the doctor as he took his stethoscope and placed it on Erik's ears. Erik smiled, blinking rapidly and then lowered himself to his knees. The doctor went to the parlor door to pull it closed. Erik smiled down at Christine who was glowing, her eyes brimming with tears of happiness. He leaned down brushing her lips with a tender kiss. They sat eyes locked, souls speaking, hearts soaring, as the doctor returned to them.

"Now, let me see.." He kneeled next to Erik's side. It was only a day ago that he'd knelt next to his brother-in-law at his sister's side as they listened to the heartbeats of their babies, and now, he'd have the joy of doing the same for Erik and Christine.

He brought Erik's shoulders closer to Christine's stomach. Christine had lifted her dress, it bunched up around her chest, and the doctor had covered her lower extremities with a blanket, giving her what modesty a woman in her condition could have. He warmed the pad of the instrument between his hands before he put it carefully several inches above the small lump in Christine's abdomen. Erik smiled.

"Now," said the doctor in a hushed tone. "Do you hear anything?" Erik nodded. "What you hear now is Christine's heart beat. It is strongest, therefore the loudest…remember that sound." Erik nodded again. The doctor carefully repositioned the pad over the lump, gently moving it around. Then stopping when he saw Erik's eyes squint. "Do you hear anything now?"

Erik's eyes began to well with tears. "Yes…" he said in a nearly breathless tone.

The doctor smiled at Christine who had reached out and now grasped Erik's hand so tightly that her knuckles had become white. "What do you hear Erik?" The doctor whispered. Erik looked up at Christine, "I hear the first one that you mentioned, and then, I hear…..many little beats, almost so fast they are hard to count!" Erik was smiling, but his face dropped as he looked at the doctor whose face was now suddenly serious. "What is it?" Erik said, a lump growing in his throat so quickly he thought he would choke.

"May I?" The doctor said, motioning for Erik to give him the stethoscope. Erik quickly complied. Erik moved up towards Christine's head, taking both of her hands in his. Somehow, he thought, she looked more relaxed than he, and he wondered at it.

The doctor exposed more of Christine's stomach and began to run the stethoscope slowly over the area, pausing and listening intently before moving it to another place and doing the same. This went on for several minutes before Erik said in exasperation, "please, do not make us wait…it rips at my heart….is something wrong!" Erik's first thoughts were for Christine, that she was alright, but deep inside he worried that something had passed from him, some horrible thing was happening….

The doctor raised his head and pulled the stethoscope from his ears. "Erik, please sit down would you?" Erik nestled in next to Christine, lifting her head into his lap. The doctor pulled the blanket over Christine's stomach. He smiled at Erik and Christine. Erik's eyes traveled between the two of them, and suddenly he felt like he was again on the outside looking in, and he didn't like it one bit!

The doctor began, "our Christine here had suspicions, and now entering her second trimester, we can be fairly confident that she is progressing nicely." Erik scowled? Was there need for this melodrama if she was progressing nicely? He huffed.

"Now Erik, there is always the possibility that I am wrong, for Mother Nature always has her secrets…" Erik grew very impatient. "Come on good sir, if you've something horrible to tell me, let's be out with it!" The nerve in his cheek jumped fiercely now, the doctor taking note of it, he'd talk to him about that later.

"Erik, I think you are going to be truly blessed." He smiled at him. "Blessed?" Though that word was a relief to him, he wondered…. "It seems as though, your dear wife will have her hands full, with you, and the babies…"

Christine was smiling profusely, tears running down her cheeks onto the cushions. Erik flinched, did he say babies? "Babies?" Erik could hardly breathe. He looked at Christine, her smiling face reassuring him. "Yes Erik, it seems you will have a busy house by early winter…I cannot tell you, it is far too soon, but I could distinctly hear Christine's heartbeat and two others."

Erik was suddenly feeling numb. "There is the possibility.." Erik's eyes flashed, what else did he not know…. "It is possible that there is yet another heartbeat Erik, I cannot be certain, the heartbeats are so close together…I've not delivered triplets before, nor cared for someone who has, but this seems very likely in this case."

Erik was dumfounded. How nature had played with his soul…a year ago, he'd no idea that he'd ever have Christine in his arms….and now…and NOW….he could be having a rather large family by this Christmas! Erik squeezed Christine's hand. She was obviously happy, he was happy…..then his face went serious.

"Doctor," he began to affectionately rub Christine's shoulder, "will this be hard on her, will she be able to carry…" The doctor knew, and understood Erik's concern. He sat back in the chair.

"Yes, Erik, this pregnancy will not be easy, in the latter stages anyway, but for now, your young wife is happy, she is healthy, and as long as she rests and EATS, she will progress nicely." Christine caught his scolding. This was no time to be worried about her waistline!

Erik's chest swelled. He would see to it, every detail, he'd brought her this far. He'd promised to be at her side in sickness and in health…he'd be with her every step of the way. He looked resolutely at the doctor, "you can be assured that she will be well taken care of."

The doctor smiled back at Erik. He'd seen so few husbands as devoted to their wives as this one, he'd no doubt in his mind that Erik would smother Christine with attention and care. The doctor lifted his stethoscope, nodding toward Christine, "would you like to have a listen?"

She smiled, nodding at Erik, "I should think so, I don't want the father having all the fun!" The doctor rose and assisted Christine in listening to the heartbeats. Her eyes grew wide, she was speechless, she'd longed for confirmation, and now she finally had it. Erik's love, and her love for him grew within her. She felt as though a golden lamp had been lit inside of her, a beacon of her love for this man, a reassurance that she was his, and that they would always be joined by this flesh no matter where their life took them.

Erik could hear a carriage coming up the path, no doubt that would be Nadir. He was excited to share this joy, but would not, perhaps until Nadir returned from Paris. He and Christine needed time to process this news before they could share it with the world.

He glanced down at Christine who was just lowering her dress. "Now," said the doctor, let's have a look at the rest of you.

Christine nodded at Erik, "go to Nadir, while the doctor and I visit for a few moments won't you?"

Erik nodded, walking toward the door, turning to look at her. Before he knew it he was at her side again, embracing her, burying his face in her neck, kissing it affectionately. "I love you" he whispered. She turned her head kissing his ear, "and we love you…daddy…" She kissed his ear again. He leaned away smiling at her as he rose and walked back toward the door. "Daddy…," Erik said to himself…next to the word husband, he could think of no more noble title.

"I shall need a few minutes to visit with you doctor, before you leave, perhaps you'll join us for dinner?"

The doctor rose shaking Erik's hand. "I'd be delighted." Erik opened the door and went out to the foyer, where he greeted a breathless Nadir. Erik was smiling, Nadir looked confused. "In here my friend, come, join me in the library…." He took Nadir, his arm around his shoulder, toward the library. "Erik?" Nadir inquired. Erik began to laugh as they disappeared into the room. "All is well my friend….all is well."

XXXX

Meg woke to the sounds of a large thud, and several harsh words said from one of Raoul's staff to another, "clumsy oaf, watch where you're going will you!"

Meg sat up stretching. She'd no idea how long she'd been asleep this time. She inhaled deeply she could smell something wonderful, sweet, cinnamon…it was the luscious fragrance of an apple pie, she could just tell…it made her saliva glands involuntarily come to life. Her dining schedule had been somewhat altered today, and for once, she was actually hungry! No doubt that would please Raoul.

She wondered how long he'd been gone. Glancing down she saw the book laying face down on the divan. She lifted it, looking at the page number, it was on page three. She chuckled. No doubt Raoul had been as sleepy as she, they'd not gone far in the book.

Meg stood and walked over to the window, pushing the drapes aside. She saw Raoul from a distance, his staff lined up in a row as he walked down shaking their hands and nodding towards them. Then he said something to them that they obviously were pleased with because they began to clap. Raoul was turning and walking back towards the house.

Meg let the curtain drop from her hand, she'd not want Raoul to think she'd been spying on him. She straightened her dress, and ran her fingers through her hair, releasing it and gathering it again in the satin ribbon. There was a small knock on the door as it slid open. "Miss Meg?" came Madeline's sweet voice. "You come kitchen, ask question?" Meg smiled and moved toward the door, "of course Madeline, whatever you need." She walked to the door and joined her as they left the room.

XXXX

Madame Giry had cried herself dry. She sat in the comfort of the sitting room, staring out the French doors that led outside. She was entirely grateful that she'd been the only one in the dormitories, and she thought, on that floor for that matter. She'd not cried that hard since….since…Christine and Erik had gone missing. She knew she'd best be getting back to Raoul's house. No doubt Meg would be awake and looking for her very soon, and she did not want to miss the opportunity to give the room a once over before Raoul showed it to her.

She stood, gathering her cloak and walked to the French doors, latching them closed. As she turned around she heard a familiar voice say to her, "it is beautiful isn't it?" Madame Giry spun round, there in the doorway was Raoul's sister.

"Madame Giry, are you alright?" Madame Giry quickly ran her index finger under both eyes. "I'm just a bit tired I'm afraid Meg had a rather difficult night last evening."

"Hmmmm," his sister sad walking into the room. Madame Giry leaned forward kissing the girl on both cheeks. "It is good to see you." Though Madame Giry was a bit puzzled by her presence.

His sister quickly sensing it said, "I was visiting my father, and he'd mentioned you'd come up to look at the dormitories, and I thought I might join you. I hope you do not mind at all."

Madame Giry replied, "not in the least…you've seen the rooms before?" His sister smiled as she looked around at the room they now stood in. "Yes, it wasn't completely finished the last I was here, but I did have opportunity to see it. Truly my father wanted me to confirm that they were on the right path, you know a lady has a feeling about these things." She smiled at Madame Giry.

"Yes, I can see that." She couldn't help but wonder if the girl knew, and felt compelled to ask. "Do you know who the architects were, who designed the upper floors? I must say they did a wonderful job." Madame Giry looked hopefully at the girl.

She smiled, "it's odd really, you'd not think that this was possible, but they'd unearthed the original plans for the Opera House when they'd first begun their work. Of course, there were some minor changes, such as the plumbing and what not, but basically, this is as the original architect saw it." She smiled at Madame Giry.

"Original plans? This was in the original plans?" Madame Giry's mind was at work, was this yet another one of Erik's many tricks? Inwardly she smiled, she'd have to ask him about that too.

"Yes, it's hard to imagine it, but it is possible that the architect had visions of the ballet company being much larger than the first ones, or had a soft spot in his heart for those who cared for the ballerinas, either way, this is what he'd envisioned, so my father decided it should be built, and everyone agreed that you were most deserving of it after all the years you've spent here!" Madame Giry was blushing. How easily those words of praise flowed from her tongue. She was certain they were sincere, but she could see that Raoul was right, his sister indeed had spent considerable time with her father, for she had his same smooth nature."

"We best see ourselves on our way, the afternoon is waning, and I've no doubt you've much to do when you return to my brother's house." The pair walked toward the door. Madame Giry turned taking one last glance before pulling the doors closed….it really was like a dream!

The pair of women made their way down the grand marble staircase to the grand foyer of the Opera House. It had been scrubbed and polished, and gleamed brilliantly in the late afternoon sun.

"Perhaps I shall see you again soon Madame Giry." His sister smiled. "Perhaps you shall." She reached out touching the young woman's shoulder. "Thank you." His sister turned to look at her over her shoulder. "Thank you for all of your help, I couldn't have done it with out you." Madame Giry was smiling appreciatively at her.

There were so many in society who worried about appearances and being genuine….Raoul's sister could see why Raoul had made a special place in his heart for Madame Giry. This woman was nothing at all if not genuine. "It was my pleasure." The women kissed cheeks and descended the stairs to where their respective carriage awaited them.

**Author's Notes: **

**Dear Faithfuls**, I hope all was forgiven. I just couldn't split this part of the story up, and the previous chapter would have been far too long….I promise not to leave you hanging…at least too much….over the Labor Day Holiday….Sadly I will be away from my computer all weekend…one last summer hurrah…before my favorite season sets in…there is nothing like autumn in (fill in the name of your city here!)

**Captain Oblivious**: I must hold you personally responsible for my nearly having to call 911! I nearly had a brain aneurysm when I read your review…first the "Run Erik's Horse Run" (which tickled my very odd funny-bone), to the mental imagery I was going through of imagining you in your fluffy white socks doing a "risky business" maneuver in Raoul's house! I have the strangest sense of humor of anyone that I know. Sometimes I find myself laughing at things that others don't even find funny. Imagine sitting in a room full of people and you are the only one laughing…and the fact that they aren't laughing makes you laugh all the harder! Well, that pretty much sums it up for me!

I'm very happy to see that you are "in-tune" with all the adjectives I've been using in recent chapters..shiny smooth floors….ah yes….I've drug you into my imagination…kicking and screaming….carrying that Pauly Shore gun of yours!

**Poetzproblem**: And the winner is? Sorry for making you ummm, review..the reviews! If I'd let the cat out of the bag, I'd have spoiled the suspense… dodges flying Punjab Gee, the last words of comfort sounded more like something out of 'The Godfather', maybe writing for our little Phamily is more like working for the MOB! Yikes…I think I just saw Jimmy Hoffa…. It's good to know that I'll be kept "alive" until I've outlived my usefulness! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

**Phantomlover05**: I've got but one word for you…. "Ditto!" Hope this chapter put a little smile on your face!

**ChristinelovesPhantom**: You are most welcome for the updates! I am happy to hear that you are enjoying them! Ahhh yes…your explanation is perfect! You are right, we were cheering for Erik and loathing Raoul because we didn't want our dear Erik to be deprived of his one chance at love. NOW, not that I want to be misunderstood….for me there is only one man…the Phantom….but ….I do think that Raoul deserves a chance at happiness, even if it is never as deep, rich, or complicated as Erik and Christine's relationship. I don't think any other couple could pull off their love….although there have been plenty of them written about in the archives of literature. This is our time….and our choice is the PHANTOM LOVES CHRISTINE….CHRISTINE LOVES PHANTOM!

**PhantomsRogue**: Yes, the origins of Celebration City are truly inspiring! I think Walt would have been pleased beyond anything to see his dream city come to fruition! I especially liked the fact that each section of the city had its own feel. The one area that I thought was unique was one of the newest ones where everything was done with the environment in mind…so if you were an environmentalist…that would be your haven. Oh, the one single thing that I thought was "uber-cool" was that the hospital employs an award winning chef, and that they are open to the public for dining…I think it was considered four star! We didn't get the chance to eat there but we did drive through the parking lot very slowly…it looked more like a hotel…a swimming pool surrounded by huge windows…a large lounge area….it almost made me want to break a leg so I could stay there for a night! We took in both lunch, afternoon tea, and supper in Celebration City. We walked all over the City parks…I even have a snap-shot of me by the fountain that's by the post office! Well, anyway, yes, I've a Barney's tumbler at my office. Whenever I want a little mental side-trip, all I have to do is put that cup in my hand and fill it with coffee…and I'm transported back there….

Yes, I hope that all has been forgiven regarding the suspense with Christine. I just couldn't split it up…the thought all had to be together. Did you laugh when you thought of how confused poor Nadir was when he arrived at the winter house? He's already on edge from the secret he's keeping…all this stress isn't good for his heart!

Now one last thing…you must tell our Phamily about the inside joke….Vester Amicus Agricola? Hmmmm do tell….

**Draegon-fire**: You are correct…much time was spent on Madame Giry. I think subconsciously it is because I want everyone to know how hard the decision will be for Madame Giry. Whether she stays or she goes….she has to give something up. And now, with the room so specifically designed for her…her daughter in love…it would be hard to say good-bye to Paris. But, on the other hand…she'd promised Christine…felt responsible for Erik…and now…her feelings for Nadir…must she sacrifice her own happiness in the last half of her life…the chance to love again…. So yes, I did spend a bit of time on her…but so much depends on her…for she is the one responsible for the Phantom being where he is, and in fact…for becoming the Phantom at all…for if she hadn't rescued him…he most likely would have been nothing at all…but perhaps, to quote one of my favorite people Benjamin Franklin… "food for worms!"

Fate is pulling at all of the lives in the story…your words are so true. It is hard to tell really which way things will go…. Did you ever see the movie 'Sliding Doors' with Gwenyth Paltrow? If not, it's worth the rent. It's a few years old now, so probably cheap to pick up. Anyway, this story reminds me that choices are key to destiny, whichever you choose….there is always a path that remains undiscovered…the choice you DIDN'T make. Hmmmmm…..I've just lost myself in deep thought…somebody help me!

**ElvieIII**: I cannot help it, every time I type your name I think of a cute little elf just hoping around, hiding behind trees… Anyway, thank you for the compliments. I just closed my eyes and typed what my eyes were seeing. You are right, sometimes that can come out really CHEESY, so thank you for relieving my mind…

I am sorry that this story is only furthering your sickness. Though it was never my intention to make anyone as addicted to POTO as I am…it is a rather pleasant side-effect don't you think? I guess it takes one crazy addicted phan to truly know and appreciate another. Sorry to say…..I cannot help you…for truly….I cannot help myself! Alas, I am not a poster girl. I have but one picture hanging in my house and it is one that was commissioned by an artist, three people who are near and dear to my heart…but I can understand why OB might have to be displaced for his royal "hotness"….did I just say that? Oh my…

Well, yes, to answer your question, I think I'll camp out at the first theater in my area that shows 'Beowulf and Grendel'. I was so depressed, 'Game of Their Lives' never even made it anywhere near where I lived. Now I'm anxiously awaiting it to come available on Amazon…so far, nothing yet. Yes, the Beowulf pictures are great…and I can hardly wait to see it since Gerard said he was "spiritually moved" by the movie and the country. So when someone is moved, they tend to give their best performances….I can only imagine….stop my beating heart! I had half a mind to hop a plane and go to the Toronto Film Festival where 'Beowulf' is being premiered next weekend…but the tickets to the premier were all snapped up…darned. I think our Dear Gerard was going to be there since he's already in Canada getting ready to shoot '300'. If you haven't read about that, go to his website (sorry it won't let me type the address here) and read all about it. This man is going to be an "A-lister" before long! Then our secret will be out!

**Liriel-eris**: I don't want to hurt a fragile mind…sorry…. Thank you for your sincere words. I again am humbled by them….bows graciously I hope that everyone who has a chance to read this story will know that it is a labor of love, and that it has been given this long life because of the encouragement that I've received from the faithful readers…so thank you. When you mentioned the choice Christine had to make between Raoul and Erik…I'd have to agree. I do rather like parallels, especially in stories. So many people talk about life having far too much gray area….to me…that is an excuse for procrastination. I think all of us, if we are perfectly honest with ourselves, know that nearly everything is either black or white…we make it gray…. Christine was attracted to Raoul because he could provide her the "acceptable life" that every other girl would want. But in our little story, she knew, in the depths of her heart, instinctively knew, she truly belonged to Erik.

First, I didn't think you were rambling at all….I was following your train of thought perfectly! Yes, their love just continues to reveal itself…

Yes, Raoul and his father are still at odds, and no doubt, they've much to tell each other, but being the proper family that they are, they've never done so. I think at that time in history many grudges were held for entire lifetimes all in the name of being proper! So, let us help that one of them have been reading some of Walden's books on transcendentalism… and will become enlightened soon! His father's anger made sense to me. I'm borrowing a line from Tivia from 'Fiddler on The Roof'. You can almost see DeChagny bursting out into song in front of his picture, crossing his arms and doing a jig as he sang at the top of his lungs….. "Tradition, Tradition…..(crescendo) TRADITION!

Now at the risk of sounding mysterious…you're assessment of the characters, such as DeChagny not having a romantic bone in his body…it is true, one can never tell WHO someone really is…most people only show us the person they WANT us to know. Ahhh, at the further risk of sounding impetuous, we all wear masks of one sort or another!

Yes, setting the mood for writing is a must for me, although I can have ideas when I'm in the shower, going on a walk, grocery shopping, wandering through museums….it doesn't really matter where. Although, that said, I think it makes it entirely more real for the author as they pen their work…I like the thought of writing in the Garden and imagining the beauty of the Middle Earth….there's an air of mystery about it.

No, sadly, my coursework at college was filled with much different things. I am sorry now that I never took any creative writing courses…When did I start writing? Well, here's another little secret. I started writing poetry when I was around ten. Some of those I've have had put into works of art…they remind me of my childhood. Books? I've just started writing in the past five years or so, though I've written a number of short stories, usually driven by some experience I was going through in my life at the time. Yes, one of my goals for this next year is to work on getting published. A couple of friends and I have started a new tradition (there goes that word again!) that we meet once a month and go out for dinner. We've picked different restaurants from nations around the world and we go to them (not the country, just the restaurant). There we plot out something, a challenge for each of us to accomplish by the next time we meet. Now some goals, such as publishing a book, does take a bit more time, but I'm to report on my progress whenever we meet. Truthfully, I've been much more wrapped up in writing this story than in being published right now…it has become my obsession! But thank you for the encouragement!

I do like your analogy…why do people think we are nuts when they think it is o.k. to wear foam hats in the shape of a football and drink beer and spill chips on the floor while they scream at a television? Or the mom who has her kids in soccer and they live eat and breathe soccer? Good point….! I am happily relishing our addiction! At least we are all doing it with grace and style…right? LOL

Funny you should mention Celtic…I've just been penning a future chapter, and there is mention of it in there (I cannot tell you where) ohhhh how eerie! Yes, French is a lovely language. I'm hoping I can master it before I go to Europe….I don't want to be a bumbling tourist! After all I am ¼ French, I should at least be able to speak the native tongue of my ancestors before I start visiting their castles! Afrikaans?


	113. Savoring The Sweetness

Chapter 113 Savoring the Sweetness 

Author's note: Confession – I am a chocolate fanatic…so if you are anything at all like the author…you might want to have some chocolate on hand while you read!….just a suggestion! Happy reading, and I hope you can "savor the sweetness."

Nadir spun on his heels as Erik had nearly pushed him into the library across the hall. "Erik, what is going on? Where is Christine? Does she know? Whose horse is outside? Have they seen any evidence of.." Erik began to laugh again at Nadir, which Nadir decided was entirely rude, and entirely not like the Erik he'd seen just an hour before.

"It was the doctor, come to examine Christine!" Erik continued to chuckle as he walked to the decanter and poured Nadir a brandy. "I truly frightened the poor man, lifting him from his feet by his cloak…" Erik laughed yet again as he brought the glass to Nadir.

Nadir took it, hastily taking in the first rather large sip. "Where's the man's carriage? Do not tell me he brought that horse all the way here?"

Erik looked at Nadir finally regaining his temperate composure. "I dare say I'd not even had time to inquire about the carriage. I was compelled to apologize for my rash actions and query about Christine's progress. If the good doctor saw fit to come on only his horse then he's some good reason to abandon the comfort of his carriage for a mere horse."

Nadir looked at Erik as they both sat on the window seat overlooking the front garden. "And did he then have opportunity to look at you Erik?" Nadir said in a slightly fathering tone.

"Whatever for Nadir? It is most obvious to everyone who knew of my injury that I am doing quite well now…I've been riding a horse, eating a gentleman's portion and the like." Erik looked a bit annoyed by Nadir's question.

Nadir thought carefully, he'd have to bring it up…Erik had come so far. "The right cheek…though it looks so very well…" Nadir paused, he couldn't bring himself to say the words, and instead supposed, "I can tell that it still troubles you." Nadir looked down at his glass and then back up at Erik.

Erik was gazing out the window. "It has been a difficult transition Nadir…more difficult than I'd imagined. I'd no time to prepare for it…I was simply greeted by it when I awoke…there was no time to prepare myself mentally for the transformation." There was a long pause. "I've never known a life where I'd not have to hide. Where my hideousness would be accepted….that what they beheld when their eyes met with my countenance, was the man, not the face."

Erik rose walking around the room staring up at the ceiling. The inner turmoil evident in the rising of his chest, the furrow of his brow. He crossed his arms behind his back, placing his hands on the opposite elbow, resting the crossed pair on his waist. "I'd not admit this to anyone else Nadir, but these last days….here with Christine… roaming about Chauesser…without it…without that mask…have been cathartic for my soul."

The nerve jumped in his cheek. He raised his hand to it. "Now, the thought that something might be wrong….the possibility that it could return…" Erik paused clenching his eyes tightly, "would be like returning a newly freed man to his shackles and tossing him into the deepest dungeon forever. I don't know if I could bare it Nadir. Not for my sake, but for….Christine….for the child she carries within her very womb."

He spun round on his heels looking at Nadir. "And the way she looks at me….Nadir I knew before that she loved me….but now…perhaps it is my imagination…" Erik fell silent. In truth he knew it was the way he felt about himself when he was with her. He felt more human; more worthy of her affections.

Nadir stood and walked over to Erik, resting his hand on his shoulder. "The man who sits even now in the other room with your wife, has brought you this far my friend. Do you not think that he will help you through this? And had he not told you that your treatment was not yet finished?" Erik nodded, the doctor had told him as much. "Then Erik, do not let this dampen your spirits, nor occupy your mind. You've much other to think about just now."

Erik nodded his head again, smiling at Nadir. "Once again your wise words pour as cooling water on my heated soul." Nadir patted him on the back.

"That is why I've survived this long, and not found myself at the end of your sword!" His statement making Erik laugh, breaking the tension that had settled in the room. "Now let us talk of our plans. I shall return our Sara to Paris, see to her internment. Then I shall see to taking care of her affairs, and try to find her children. Surely somewhere in her inn there will be information on the whereabouts of her children." Erik was nodding in agreement.

"Then I shall return to Chauesser Erik, and we will decide what to do about the old woman. I wish there was time to visit with Nicole before I leave, but I fear the day grows old even now, and I'll be lucky to arrive in Paris before night falls."

Erik agreed. Though he'd no desire to send Nadir out on such a long journey with the likes of Crawlings roaming about, he knew that he must. Perhaps having a coffin in tow would make a would-be robber think twice of it. For even among the criminals there was some code of reverence for the dead.

There was a knock on the library door. One of the maids peeked her head in. "Sir, I've prepared a basket for you, shall I have Erphan put it in the carriage for you?"

Nadir smiled inquisitively, "Erphan?" he looked at Erik for an answer. "That my friend, is a story for another time."

Nadir shook his head. He was accustomed to bringing information, news, to Erik, he'd been doing it for years. Now, it was Erik who seemed to know so many things, and that pleased Nadir, for Erik's sake. "Yes, please see to it won't you?" The maid nodded, closing the door once again.

Erik put both hands on Nadir's shoulders. "I shall miss having you here Nadir, and will look forward to your return. I've no doubt that you'll see to everything that I've entrusted you. I shall eagerly await any news you have from Paris regarding Meg, and Madame Giry."

Erik's voice took on a more serious intonation as he looked Nadir dead in the eye. It was a gaze so straight and true that it made Nadir feel as if Erik was looking passed him directly into his soul. "Nadir, a day may be coming very soon when we shall all be parted at length, and perhaps some will not see each other again while we are on this earth, though I'd not wish for it to be so. Decisions will have to be made…promises kept…"

Nadir knew what Erik was trying to say, though it grieved him deeply. "Nadir, we…you and I…are not young men any longer…we must find happiness and embrace it…lest it pass us by…" Erik swallowed hard, he felt like he was releasing his brother…

"If you should find…you and Madame Giry should find that Paris holds a future for the two of you…."

Nadir lifted his head, his lips beginning to move in protest. Erik raised his hand to bid him silence. "If Paris holds a future of happiness for the two of you, my two dearest friends in this world, I shan't want feelings of obligation to force you to return Nadir."

Nadir started to utter a protest yet again, but was quickly silenced. Erik walked a few steps away, once again staring up at the ceiling. "Nadir, I know you feel indebted to me, for saving your life sir, and since it is to me you feel you own this debt, then I should have the power to release you from this obligation…true?"

He turned back to look at Nadir. The stout man's eyes were brimming with tears. Hesitantly he replied, "I suppose…" Erik returned to him, once again holding his shoulders at arm's length, his grip as strong as ever.

"But Erik, it is simply not once that you saved my life, but three times you pulled me from death's door…"

Erik's powerful gaze was once more piercing Nadir. "If it is within my purview to acknowledge the debts you imagine you owe me, then it is also within my purview to forgive you these obligations. Nadir, that is my intention, at this moment, to release you from any obligations implied, imagined, or otherwise, my friend. Go seek that which makes you happy…that which makes you fulfilled, for we shall never pass this way again!"

Nadir's tears flowed over his lids and down his cheeks as he and Erik embraced. The two men had been through so very much with each other and for each other, he could no sooner imagine being parted from Erik than having his right arm removed. He knew that Erik had cared for him, but today, in these moments, he knew, without a shadow of doubt, that Erik loved him.

XXXX

The carriage ride from Paris wasn't terribly long, but just long enough that Madame Giry had begun to doze off. The day had been busy and eventful, and now all she longed for was a hot bath, a good supper, and to retire to her bed chamber after visiting with Meg.

She glanced across the carriage at the several boxes that lay there from the visits she'd made to the various shops. Now with all of Meg's thing finally at Raoul's, she could set about putting them in place. Perhaps the hot bath and bed would have to wait.

It wasn't until just now that Madame Giry realized she'd not even taken lunch, it was no wonder that her stomach growled hungrily, and her mind traveled to the small box that topped the tower that the woman at the chocolate shop had put on just for her. Though she knew it could spoil her supper, she was far too tempted to sample from the box.

Reaching over she slid the package from its place on top of the rest. Inside the box were tissue cups separating some of the most beautiful chocolate truffles Madame Giry had ever seen. Selecting one would be difficult. The dark chocolates filled with caramels and liqueurs were tempting though she had no coffee to accompany them. The white chocolates with fruited cream centers were wonderful, although that too she preferred with her tea. The plump one in the center was a pale milk chocolate, and by far the largest in the box. She decided, that it was just right. Plucking it from its home in the box she cradled it carefully in her hand. Putting the paper back in the box, returning its lid and setting it once again in place before she returned to the treat.

She raised it to her nose. Inhaling the rich scent of cocoa, the sweetness of the fresh cream and butter. It was inviting her senses. She could smell a hint of orange, but could see with her eyes, large pieces of toasted pecans protruding from both sides. She lifted it finally to her lips, taking a small bite, letting the candy begin to melt on the warmth of her tongue. The sugars quickly dissolving as they permeated her taste buds, awakening in her a simple pleasure. It was both sweet and heavenly as she moved her lips in sheer enjoyment of it. She could not recall ever having a finer chocolate in all of her life. The zest of the orange being a perfect parallel to sweetness of the chocolate, the crisply toasted and salted pecans, crunching under the weight of her teeth as she slowly savored each luscious layer of flavor. The second bite was no less intoxicating, nor the third, nor the fourth. Soon she'd put the remainder of the truffle in her mouth and leaned back in utter satisfaction.

Had she been deserving of a reward for that which she would gladly have done for her daughter anyway, Madame Giry could not think of a sweeter one. She glanced out the window. She recognized that small grove of trees off to the left. Fifteen minutes time would find her at Raoul's front door. She was slightly thankful she'd not have to ride any longer in the carriage with that package, lest it arrive at Raoul's house, entirely devoid of even a remnant of chocolate!

XXXX

Meg was in the kitchen with Madeline when Raoul entered the house walking right past the door without glancing in. He was on his way to the library to find Meg.

Madeline smiled at Meg, "Vicomte look for you…he not find…like hide and seek?" Meg laughed sweetly with Madeline. Though she could be rather formal when needed, Meg was pleased to discover she had a playful side.

They listened as the library doors opened, then there was silence. The doors closed. They listened as Raoul wandered down the hall. The two began to laugh quietly. Meg had been in the kitchen with Madeline looking over a tea list. Since Meg would be staying with them for some time, Madeline thought she might like to pick from the assortment she could get at the market. After all, there were far more interesting blends, especially for ladies, than Earl Grey, and chamomile!

They listened with wide smiles on their faces as Raoul opened and closed several more doors before he made his way up the stairs. They could hear him calling out "Meg…" Once they heard him walking around on the floor above, they began to laugh out loud. "He not find you…come looking here…you hide…in closet here…" Madeline pointed to a small pantry door. It was a closet that Meg could easily fit in. Most days it contained brooms and the like, but they had all been employed on the upper floor in Meg's room, so for now the closet sat empty. Meg smiled, she would do it!

She and Madeline perused the tea catalog, Meg selecting several she thought she might like to try, black currant, orange and spice, jasmine. She would start with those. Madeline was writing it down on her list for the market in the morning. Meg smiled thanking her.

Then she had a thought. "Madeline, did you know Raoul's mother?" Madeline smiled, "yes young miss, came here when Raoul was boy, come here to help care him." Meg smiled, then she would surely know. "Madeline, was there anything that Raoul's mother would get for him, a special treat of any kind that he liked?" Madeline sat on the stool, she had to think. "Why yes young miss…she get him licorice.." she smiled. "He not have since he was boy, no more after mother gone…"

Madeline looked mournfully at the table. "She was good…she like angel…he miss her much." Madeline looked up at Meg. Their faces had now turned from their mischievous smiles, to melancholy. "You like I pick up at market?" Madeline said, trying to smile.

Meg reached down pecking Madeline on the cheek. "Yes, very much. I've little means to do much for Raoul, and his generosity is quite overwhelming. If I could bring him but a few moments of happiness, I should like that very much."

Madeline was writing it on her list, she'd bring both red and black. "And one more thing Madeline, do you think you could help me select a book, perhaps one his mother read to him as a child."

Madeline smiled widely. "Yes, he keep those books on special shelf, I find for you." Meg smiled, and was leaning over to hug Madeline when they heard Raoul's footsteps on the stairs. She darted quickly into the closet.

Raoul's voice was a bit more frantic as he called out "MEG…" Soon he was at the entrance of the kitchen, walking in he was facing Madeline, his back turned toward the closet door. His eyes eagerly searched the room. "Madeline, I've looked everywhere, except the water closets, have you seen Meg, I cannot seem to find her anywhere."

Madeline could do nothing more than smile at Raoul which made him cock his head to one side and smile, asking "whatever is it Madeline?"

Just then Meg burst out of the closet door, grabbing Raoul by his sides and then running out the door and down the hall. Raoul laughed, "why you little rascal!" Raoul was out the door and after Meg.

Madeline laughed to herself as she listened to Meg and Raoul chasing each other in and out of the rooms on the main floor. There was cries of being found, fits of laughter, and banter as they chased each other like playmates. Madeline was happy. Happy that there was laughter again in the house, and happy that Raoul was finally allowing his heart open enough to heal.

And then, there was silence. Raoul had finally cornered Meg in the parlor. He was looking down at her smiling, and she up at him. Their eyes were searching each other's as they stood face to face. Raoul slipped his arms around Meg's waist and leaned down to place a tender kiss on her lips. Their spirits began to float, a sweet moment that seemed a fitting beginning to a courtship that others would have envied.

XXXXX

Christine sat with the doctor, now having answered all of her questions, she felt more at ease. It had been a bit awkward asking such things of a gentleman, but somehow the doctor's manner allowed for it. No doubt it was all the decisions he and Christine had made while Erik slept, they'd developed a bond where honesty was the rule, not the exception. No matter how cruel or hard the truth had been, they'd worked through it.

Now, with the joyous event of a pregnancy, the questions were ones that had answers that were inclined towards the positive. "Thank you for answering all of my inquiries. I'm sure that most women of my age already know such things."

The doctor smiled reaching out to tap Christine on the knee. "On the contrary, they suffer in silence. I've not known many like you Christine. You'd be a good influence on many young ladies. Most are far too timid to ask even the most simple questions. You've a good judge of things, and know first hand the struggles that one faces during difficult times. Some day, your triumphs will be put to good use, if in no other way, raising your bundles of joy!"

Christine was flattered. She'd not felt any smarter, nothing more than average really, so his words of comfort were more than flattering.

There was a knock at the door. "Christine, it is time for Nadir to be on his way, would you like to say goodbye?" Erik said, his voice somewhat muffled by the heavy doors.

"Erik, do come in, we are finished." Christine said smiling at the doctor. The two of them stood as Erik and Nadir entered the room. It was obvious to anyone that this would be difficult. The four stood in a square, each looking at the other. They had been through a great deal together, and none knew when next they would be standing together in the same room.

Christine was the first to move. She walked over embracing Nadir. "Do give Meg a hug and a kiss for me won't you? And send Madame Giry my fondest regards. Do let them know we are thinking of them." She smiled as she leaned away from Nadir, both having tears on the very edges of their eyes. She leaned back in embracing him again. "Safe travels to you Nadir, do take care of yourself, we shall miss you dreadfully." She released her grip on him, brushing a kiss on his cheek as she joined Erik at his side.

The doctor walked over to shake Nadir's hand. "Good sir, it has been my privilege to have spent time in your company. I shall assure you I'll be looking after them sir. Now that my sister is delivered, I shan't miss visiting the pair often."

Nadir smiled at him. "When next I return, perhaps we can talk of the salves you used for Meg, I dare say the DeChagny's physician has asked many questions about them, and about you. We've told him you are from Chauesser so that he might not track you down." The doctor nodded, "I see, then yes, we shall talk on your next visit then." Nadir turned, the maids were standing at the door, the carriage driver was at the ready. Erik would see Nadir out to the carriage.

As the pair walked the short distance to the carriage, Nadir could sense there was much left undone between them. "Erik, I shall miss your company. Do take care of yourself, and Christine. No doubt when next we meet, we shall have much to share." Nadir reached out embracing Erik one last time before mounting the carriage. He leaned out the window. "I'll be certain to send a courier if anything of interest to you or your family should develop before I return." Erik nodded. He knew just what Nadir meant.

XXXXX

The carriage pulled away. Erik watched until he could no longer see it as it passed over the crest. Christine had joined him at his side, holding onto him tightly. "We shall miss him my dear. I'd guess it may be some weeks before we see him again. Perhaps the first part of April."

Erik simply sighed. "Yes, I suppose it shall be." Then, a wide smile crossed his face as he turned to Christine. "Can you imagine it? Just imagine it…next year at this very season, three of them wandering about our ankles?" He was beaming.

Christine smiled up at him, nestling her head into his chest. "It will be perfect Erik, simply perfect." She leaned her face toward his flesh placing a delicate kiss in the center of his chest.

"Now my dear," said Erik. "We must be careful, certainly that behavior will lead to something we shall both need to avoid until…" Christine lifted her finger to his lips, slipping her hand behind his neck she pulled his head down to hers. Her lips nearly touching his.

"Not yet my sweet Erik, not yet. When I am nearing my confinement yes, perhaps then, but not now. I've the doctor's blessings if you should like to discuss it with him."

Erik blushed, Christine had asked such a question? "Christine…" he was bewildered. She smiled at him, kissing him quickly on the lips before slipping her hand into his. "One cannot know what one does not ask. Did you think I would deny you unless I knew that I must?"

Erik felt a crimson flush rise all the way to the top of his brows. Even now, Christine worried about pleasing him…oh how could one man ever be so blessed? He growled once, scooping Christine up into his arms. He walked back to the house, swirling her in the air, Christine laughing and playfully running her arms around his neck. They could barely taken in all that had come to be that day, a blessing, a true blessing had befallen their life, and now there was nothing to do but sit back and bask in the glow of it.

**Author's Notes: **

**Dear Faithfuls**: I hope that I did not make anyone OD on chocolate! I have to tell you while I wrote this I had two cups of cappuccino, and three-pack of sugar-free chocolate turtles! Anyway…I hope everyone has a wonderful Labor Day Weekend (for those in the USA), and all others too! For our dear Phamily members who are heading off to college…we wish you all of the best! May fortune smile on you and may your blessings abound! We will miss hearing from you on such a regular basis, but school must come first! Just drop by and let us know how you are doing from time to time….and…to keep up with our Phamily!

**Captain Oblivious**: Now stop that…you could get splinters in those stockings, which could lead to a terrible infection, whereby they'd have to amputate your toe, and then you'd be hobbling around campus and have to explain your antics to someone outside of our little Phamily!

Another laughing fit induced by you….thank you very much….. I could just imagine Erik and Christine sliding the baby back and forth down a long slippery hallway…. "it's your turn to change them slides baby, "NO, it's your turn," slides baby back OH NO…TWO sliding babies….Look out! Well, yes, I've just lost myself in my all-too-imaginative mind….

**Poetzproblem:** bows graciously Thank you for your kind words. I am happy that you are pleased with me. cowers in corner You're not part of the MOB are you? (side joke!) Anyway, I caught the little trap that you'd set… "all those extra family members to help out" You are getting a bit ahead of yourself my dear… Who knows, Erik could get spooked and make a run for it with Christine for all we know….laughs wickedly

**Hybridknightress**: Thank you for the compliment. I sound like a broken record, and I never mean to be anything less than genuine when I reply! I am glad that you liked the rather lengthy descriptions…I am really weird that way…I like to describe things so that we can all picture nearly the same thing…if it is possible anyway!

You refer to the movie 'Chocolate', which I have been dreadfully remiss, and have yet to see it. I know, it sounds like something right up my alley, and with Johnny Depp, no less. But, perhaps I will put it on my wish list for the upcoming winter…

Yes Raoul and Meg are very playful aren't they! They aren't terribly much younger than Christine and Erik, but somehow their relationship seems worlds apart…not nearly as deep or soulful…Ahhh…just thinking about Erik and Christine makes me happy!

Sorry I didn't respond to your update for the previous chapter…I found it after I'd already made my post!

**Icherisherik**: Hope that you are feeling better today! I am happy to hear that the story could cheer you! Oh, and do not fear that you are greedy…it warms my heart to think that somewhere out in the world someone anticipates hearing from me…smiles humbly

Yes, I think Raoul and Meg are rather sweet. Their relationship is in its "infant" stages, yet they seem to be happy with one another. I do worry that they aren't developing the depth to handle a real storm…should one come though….Hmmmmm.

**PhantomLover05**: Everyday I am amazed by how the faithful readers pick up on a detail that I think I've left hanging just so I can sneak it back in later…you guys are not easily duped! Yes, Erik was nervous…and he likely had good reason to be, as the men are a rather unsavory pair…capable of all sorts of mischief!

Ah, and our dear Erik, yes he is truly devoted…to his wife…and the children he has yet to meet. If only every woman in her position were to have a man as loving and devoted as Erik to see them through….ahhh….this world would be a wonderful…Utopia!

**Christinelovesphantom**: Thank you for showing grace when it comes to poor Raoul. Yes, as I've said, I'm a Phantom girl, through and through….I just think their happiness might be connected somehow…..oh…I've nearly said too much! Yes, I too think that much will be right with the world if they continue to love each other with such adoration. And finally, you are most welcome for the updates!

**MeowLaFae**: Hmmm…you are a clever feline. Those papers still have not been disposed of…who knows where they might end up! Yes, triplets…Christine's vision of the ark turned out to have some accuracy….makes you nervous what any current or future visions might produce doesn't it?

**Phantomsrogue**: Thank you for the Latin lesson. I found it quite humorous. For those of us who have ever translated any work, you need to have those little reprieves of laughter because the task is quite tedious. But…how evil of the teacher…to make you translate the 'Iliad', that was more than cruel! My teacher made us read it out-loud, in front of the class, during a, you guessed it, a toga party! Oh my, I can still remember it like it was yesterday!

Yes, Celebration City is wonderful, a jewel in my memory that I visit from time-to-time. It is creepy, that's what made me think of 'Smallville' things were just too darned perfect. What really made me feel creepy, was, except for the shopkeepers, we saw no signs of life other than the tourists….way too creepy!

**Regina Halliwell**: Your wish is my command!

**Christineluvserik**: First, welcome to the Phamily! We love adding new members to our little Phamily…honestly it makes us all feel better about our own addiction to POTO! Now, I must warn you, I do not want to be responsible for you becoming unemployed…so do be careful my dear! Thank you for the compliment… "Masterpiece?" I am humbled by your use of adjective…I love the story…but I feel rather like a parent with a child…you know…everyone thinks their own baby isn't ugly kind of thing! LOL. I am duly impressed…if you were able to read that many chapters in one day…you must have taken a speed reading course! It has taken me nearly three months to write all of this! I am glad to hear you are enjoying it along with us.

Now, as has become our tradition….let's take a look at your tag name shall we? Hmmmm….. I think you and another one of our faithfuls have a lot in common… "ChristinelovesPhantom"! The two of you would probably be able to talk for hours. I think the name is straightforward…you too share in our vision that Erik and Christine…the Phantom and Christine…belonged together…ahhh….

Now, if we are way off in our assessment, please do tell…how did you arrive at your chosen name?

**ElvieIII**: I loved, loved, loved, your ice-cream humor. Oh, a pint of Ben and Gerry for me too please, and hold the Ben! LOL chokes LOL O.K. on a more serious note…we (our Phamily) would like the names, addresses, and physical descriptions of anyone who thinks that Gerry is an ugly old man! We have friends in the MOB (makes sense if you've read some of the reviews)….no….we ARE the MOB and will take out anyone who disses our dear Gerard! Yes, he is the Phantom, and quite capable of defending himself, but he's created a following of cape twirling devotees, who will protect his honor! O.K., THAT was a little scary! Moving on…thank you for your compliment regarding writing angst. I've often thought this stuff, but never really knew how it would sound to anyone else if I put it on paper…I'm glad to hear that it makes sense to someone else!


	114. Waiting

**Chapter 114 Waiting**

DeChagny had made it to his carriage just as the rest of the shops in Paris were closing their doors for the day. He'd rather thought he'd be paid a visit by Nadir but it seemed he had not yet arrived in Paris for surely he would have stopped there for an escort to the offices of the government. Perhaps there had been some delay in retrieving the body. Who knew in smaller villages, they were so much less sophisticated than Paris. There were few places that DeChagny held high opinion of outside of Paris. They simply could not compare to what was available in his grand City. He'd been, and would always be a dweller of Paris for he'd grown accustomed to the fineries and culture that it offered. Yes, his tastes were refined, and that was just the way he liked it.

His carriage rattled off down the streets on its way to Raoul's. It wouldn't be long before DeChagny was finished with his duties in repairing the Opera House, and would be able to return to his own home. Raoul's house was growing full and the comfort and privacy it offered was rapidly diminishing. One can truly never relax fully if they cannot let their guard down. After all, Madame Giry was his employee… He looked out the window marveling at the absolutely spectacular weather. For a spring evening, it was the nicest he could recall in a great many, though there was a cold southerly wind.

XXXXX

The doctor closed the cover on the book he'd been reading, laying it aside on the table. He stretched and rubbed at his eyes before withdrawing his pocket watch to check the time. It had been four hours since he'd administered the last dose of morphine. Surely if the man had been in any pain now, he'd have come to….it did not look promising. He'd done all for the man that he could and there was little more he could do but wait. He knew the officers of the police wanted to interview him, but the man barely held on to life by a thread. If he could do no more than assist him to come round so he might speak with his wife one last time, the doctor would be grateful.

He walked back into the room, where the man's wife sat stroking his head with a damp cloth. No fever had set in, which truly was a good sign, but he'd lost so much blood, he'd no idea if the poor heart could recover it.

"Has he stirred, has he shown any signs of being uncomfortable?" The woman shook her head no. She leaned over putting a kiss on his forehead, nodding to the doctor to come into the outer room with her.

His wife closed the door. She and the doctor walked over and sat at the small table in the hallway. "He's been muttering from time to time, just as he was when you checked on him before. He's been saying the word "warning". In fact he's repeated it a number of times, but he's not said who or why. If he'd say more I'd tell the officers, but I don't know if it is mere ramblings of his delirium, or if knows something about the boy who did this to them."

The doctor knew the officers would be all the more eager to rouse the man if he told him, and he'd not have any of it. His first responsibility was to do no harm, he'd taken seriously his Hippocratic oath. "My dear lady, unless he's to say something more, we'll leave well enough alone. I trust that you'd prefer to spend your time alone with him, rather than being joined by a dozen officers in the room trying to wake him."

Her eyes grew wide, she'd not thought of that. She began to cry. "I'd only hoped, perhaps wished he'd say more so that I might spare yet another wife tonight of this same pain." She looked at the doctor as he offered her a handkerchief. "Why would a boy do such a thing…over a bill he couldn't pay? Deprive families of their fathers, wives of their husbands, all over a small some of money he couldn't pay? Surely he could have asked them to forgive it, to make arrangements to pay it another way…something…this was senseless carnage." She bit her lip trying to stifle a fresh wave of tears. "This city makes my blood run cold….there is so much hostility…so much madness these last months. First our beloved Opera House is burned nearly to the ground by a madman. A girl is kidnapped, a man is hanged, and now this?" The woman was dabbing at her eyes. "It nearly makes one want to move far away from this place and never return!"

The doctor nodded his head in agreement, though he'd been treating Meg who'd witnessed as much treachery in a small city, it was simply the times they lived in now. Villainous families abounded, and no matter where one went, they seemed to be gaining ground, not losing it.

"Dear lady, you should get your rest now, you've been up with him all evening, you'll not be any good for him if you've not rested."

The woman looked desperately but resolutely at the doctor. "If he's but a few hours left on this earth, do you think that I would miss them to find the comfort of sleep for myself?"

The doctor nodded again. "Very well," he said. The woman knew that which he'd not been able to bare telling her. Her husband needed a miracle to survive, and nothing less.

XXXXXX

Meg and Raoul sat by the fireplace in the parlor. Though they'd not really needed a fire as the house was most comfortable without it, they'd started one anyway. Raoul was mindlessly running his fingers through Meg's flaxen hair as she lay with her head in his lap. They were simply waiting for their parents to come home so that they might have supper together. They were simply enjoying the glow from the fire, and being in one another's company.

Raoul laughed, Meg turning her head as if to inquire. "We've changed places, my father, your mother, and you and I."

Meg smiled at him, "whatever do you mean?" Raoul chuckled again, "this morning they waited for us to present ourselves for breakfast, and here we sit, even now, waiting on them for dinner!"

Meg smiled, it was a bit ironic. "Yes" Meg said joining him in his laughter, "but they'll not be coming in wearing sodden night clothes!"

Raoul leaned down placing a kiss on Meg's forehead, "how true, how true."

"Raoul?" Meg sat up. She'd been wondering about it all afternoon really. "Where are your staff? Yesterday they were busying about, banging the walls as if they were horses in a stable, but now everything is quiet. All I can hear is Madeline humming to herself in the kitchen."

Raoul smiled. It wouldn't be until Madame Giry came home and gave the room a once-over that he could reveal to Meg what had been going on, and why he'd given his staff a treat for the evening. "Oh, they do rest from time to time my dear."

Meg wasn't certain why he was being so coy, but decided she'd not inquire further. She really wanted to know why she'd seen them clapping, and why Raoul had been shaking their hands, and why so many carriages had come and gone but there had been no visitors. Perhaps his house was always that busy, and he that friendly with his staff, but she rather doubted it.

"Raoul, do you think I might be sleeping in my own room this evening?" She asked taking a sip of the tea that Raoul had poured for her from the pot Madeline had brought in for them.

Raoul winced inside. He was nearly certain that she'd be in the room that very night, but he couldn't be absolutely certain. "I'll have to talk to the men and see if they'll be able to rearrange the furnishings now that the wax is dry."

Meg's heart sank just an inch. He'd only had the furniture moved as she'd suspected, but secretly she hoped he'd swapped it with something from a neighboring room. She'd even have preferred the cot she'd slept in to the bed that had been meant for Christine. She was a bit relieved however, that meant that her medicine would be at her disposal. There would have been no reason for them to look in the drawers if they'd simply moved them to another room for a brief time.

She smiled politely at Raoul. Inside, Raoul was trying to mask his excitement. He could hardly wait himself to see what Madame Giry and his sister had settled upon. He'd decided he'd experience this with Meg when she beheld it for the first time. He hoped that Meg would agree to stay on once her mother returned to the Opera House, at least until she was fully recovered. The doctor had said it would be two months time. Perhaps by then they would know….know for certain that they were meant to be together.

"Meg, come, let us go to see what Madeline is fussing about in the kitchen shall we? Something smells wonderful, and I believe it is that delectable apple pie that she's made." Meg smiled. She shan't mind moving about a bit. In the time she'd been at Raoul's, she'd never relaxed as much, she dared think, in all of her life.

XXXX

Erik and Christine had just finished dinner with the doctor. Their first proper meal in the winter house together. The cook was bringing in dessert. "My apologies sir," she said to Erik. "We've brought this in from Chauesser, I hope you do not mind. Once we've retrieved all of the dishes from Courtland Manor, we'll be able to prepare the tarts that your wife enjoys." She'd set a slice of the walnut layer cake in front of each of them, along with a steaming cup of coffee.

The three had a perfectly wonderful dinner talking over the events of the day, his sister's delivery, and his new little niece and nephew. "She had a rather hard delivery, a longer labor than I'd have wished on her, but in the end, she'd forgotten the difficulties when the babies were in her arms!"

Erik smiled, reaching under the table for Christine's hand and squeezing it. The doctor looked at the two of them, and could see the concern in Erik's eyes. "Monsieur, do not worry, my sister is much older than Christine, and difficult deliveries do run in our family."

Christine's face went ashen, her hand limp. "Whatever is it my dear?" Erik felt guilty for bringing the subject up for discussion.

"It is nothing," Christine stood, "gentlemen, would you excuse me…" She didn't wait for their reply. She had to get some air, she had to be alone, if but for a few moments. She at once found herself outside, staring out at the failing sun as it set on the Western horizon. Her shoulders began to shake uncontrollably. Her eyes welled and overflowed with tears that she couldn't fight.

She'd never known her own mother….and yet she missed her terribly. It had not been until the doctor made his last statement that she'd given any thoughts to it at all. She'd not thought about it for years. Christine felt a pair of warm hands slide around her shoulders, pulling her into a gentle embrace. He turned her around to face him, gliding her carefully into his arms he held her as she trembled.

"Christine, whatever is it that troubles you so?" He whispered in her ear. Christine began to sob. He ran his hand affectionately up and down her back trying to comfort her. "Christine, do not be afraid my dear, I am here with you, I shall be here with you always." Christine tried to stop crying, but the harder she attempted it, the more futile the effort became.

The doctor stood looking on from the window in the dining room. He couldn't imagine what he might have said that had that affect on his patient, and then it struck him….he'd never asked about her mother…and his comments about his family having difficult deliveries…

Christine tried to slow her breathing, as Erik wiped the tears from her face. She held her eyes tightly closed as she leaned into the warmth and safety of the broad expanse of his chest. She felt safe there, loved there, felt hope there. "Erik," she began in a voice so strained that it was barely audible. "My mother…she was a wonderful woman Erik…my father loved her more than life itself." A fresh swell of tears threatened to overtake her, but she fought it. "When she was with child…when she carried me…everything was wonderful." She smiled up at him briefly through the pain. "He said she was the most beautiful pregnant woman he'd ever seen. She sang to me in the days before my birth, rocking me to sleep…" she gasped. "Erik…my mother….she….she….died when I was born….she lived only long enough to hold me once…kiss me once….utter….utter my name…" Christine's legs went out from underneath her as emotions took control of her.

Erik scooped Christine up into his arms, carrying her into the house and up the stairs to their room. Erik pushed open the door with his foot, taking Christine to the bed. He sat with her, stroking her hair, kissing her forehead. "Shhhhh….shhhhh…..do not worry Christine…I shall be here for you…" Inside his heart was breaking. Had he not been so selfish, had he not wanted her for himself, had he not taken her…..his own guilt ate away at the joy they'd shared, the joy they'd basked in just hours before. "If you can manage for a moment my dear, I'll go to relieve the doctor, send him on his way."

Christine nodded, "give him my regrets." She said between sobs. Erik stroked her forehead, leaning down to place a kiss on her temple. "I'll be but a few minutes my dear…you rest."

Erik stood and made his way downstairs as quickly as he could. The doctor met him at the bottom of the stairs, his cap and cloak already in hand. "Is she alright Erik?"

Erik waited until he was at the bottom of the stairs and then motioned for the doctor to go into the parlor. "Her mother's struggle…she did not live beyond Christine's birth….." Erik's eyes now welled in pity of the pain Christine was in. "Is there a chance…" He looked with pleading eyes at the doctor.

The physician put a reassuring hand on Erik's shoulder. "I do not know the circumstances surrounding her birth, but I can assure you we shall keep a watchful eye on her, and take good care of her those last weeks. Erik, it is in God's hands…the miracle of life is His and His alone. We must believe that for whatever reason He's seen fit to bless you and Christine, and I cannot believe that He would bring her this far…bring the two of you this far only to deprive you of the joy that is due you." In truth the physician could do nothing to ensure Christine's safety, but he knew the strain of worry would not be good for either of them.

Erik looked at him with such pleading. "We shall do whatever we can for her…" The doctor nodded in agreement.

"Yes…now Erik, we should talk about your progress." Erik glanced back toward the door leading to the outer hall. "Dear sir, I've much I'd like to ask you, but at this moment, I'd not be able to concentrate on anything else….I must return to her. I am sorry to cut our evening short but…"

The doctor patted Erik on the shoulder, "you've no need to apologize Erik….go to her…tell her I shall visit again tomorrow will you?"

Erik nodded, grateful the man did not insist upon talking of his face…that could wait….Christine's comfort was far more important than the worry of his own flesh. The doctor nodded as they walked back into the foyer.

"Do not worry Erik, that which you feel in your cheek even now.." Erik reached up, covering his face, he'd not even noticed that the nerve had begun to jump. "It is normal for what you've gone through…in fact…I'm glad to see it really, it means that the nerves are growing back through that part of your flesh….yes, that is a good sign."

Inside Erik was relieved, he sighed a deep mournful sigh. "We'll speak more of this on the morrow sir, do take care, and convey to your sister our fondest congratulations…"

The doctor nodded and departed. Erik turned, mounting the stairs two at a time. The nerve in his cheek was pulsating, but he no longer covered it. Though it was unsettling to deal with, it was preferable, just knowing it made it easier to bare. Now he could focus fully on his Christine, and that is all he intended to do.

As he opened the doors to their bedroom, he could hear her sniffling, curled up in a tiny ball in the center of their bed. He went to her drawing her up into his arms, cradling her as he pulled a cover over the both of them. "I am here for you my dear, I am here for you. Shhhhh…." He kissed her on the cheek as she nestled into his chest. She let out a staggered breath as she relaxed in the comfort of his presence. He always could calm her…he always had…she was thankful for that.

XXXX

The boy had made a small fire. He was four hours from Paris, and had decided to make camp for the night. Surely the morning light would bring guards and officers skimming the woods. The further he removed himself from Paris, the easier it would be to plan his next move. He'd need to allow the dust to settle before he'd be able to once again enter the city and even the account that was due his family…that girl had to go…she had to be finished before he'd feel justified. That man, the one who'd taken his brother's life from him on her account…he'd pay the most dearly…perhaps to take them as a pair…yes that was it…a pair. His brother and father's memories properly attended to would require no less.

He picked up the cloth he'd been using to clean his carriage by the light of the fire. His arm had grown weary from all of the scrubbing. He stretched his arm out once again, trying to reach near the top of the carriage….he'd not expected the blood to have splattered that far, or that much. He'd have to be certain that every drop of it was removed before the carriage could be on the road again. Somewhere he'd have to find someone who could change the crest. He'd not want to dishonor his family, but the carriage would be easily identified if he'd not see to it. He thought about his family as he rubbed and rubbed at the surface, stopping to wring the bloodied towel out every now and again. Really, it was amazing the amount of blood that had dried there….

**Author's Notes:**

**Dear Faithfuls**: I hope everyone survived their chocolate fix! For my part, this weekend I had to partake of a rather large mocha infused vanilla ice-cream cone…alas…the last day of summer! I am happy to be reunited with my computer….and with you.

**Captain Oblivious**: I nearly cried, really, when I read your note about your good-bye dinner cake…obviously you have a mommy and daddy who love you very much! That was very sweet. And, for your sake, I'm happy you had it…lest the chocolate monster force you to take Susie on a mad dash to the market for a big Hershey bar! It is with a happy-sadness (yes, it is an oxymoron) that I write this response to you. I'm certain it may be a long time before you get a chance to catch up with our Phamily…but we do hope you think of us from time-to-time… Do not worry, we will be here for you…right where you left us.

Yes, Raoul and Meg are rather enjoying one another's company, and one seems to be as willing as the other to play….hmmmm, could that simply be a mask? Hmmmm..

**Poetzproblem**: Thank heavens, I can breathe a little easier…no MOB connections! I'm happy to hear that you enjoyed the playful chapter between Meg and Raoul. You are right, I'm certain the angst concerning all that was going on with Christine before she disappeared, left little time for anything even remotely like what he share's with Meg. It has me wondering though if he respects Meg as much as he did Christine, because he does treat her so much differently than he did Christine…I do like the two of them together though!

**Christinelovesphantom**: You are most welcome for the updates. I hate being "hung-out-to-dry" myself, so I simply cannot do it to anyone else! Yes, happiness is connected for a lot of us, and the characters in our story are no different….they are all connected in an odd sort of way…a finely linked web of sorts. I hope you enjoy 114!

Hybridknightress: Thank you for the compliment. Nadir and Erik have been through so many things together. Many things that most friendships would not ever survive or dare to endure. So, letting Nadir go…for Erik…was his way of loving him…however painful for the both of them. If I'd really been in that room when Erik was saying that to Nadir, I don't think I'd have been able to breathe for the sheer angst of it all!

Chocoholic is a good word….a fitting word…for me. I love the stuff…white, dark, milk, Bavarian, German, Swiss, French, Italian…nutted, fruited, creamed, hot, cold, melted, baked in something, poured on something…well, you get the idea! Yes, I shall rent the movie. I'll be spending part of the next weekend housesitting for my sister…perhaps that would be a good one to bring along with me!

**PhantomLover05**: I'm glad to hear you enjoyed the playfulness on Meg and Raoul's part. There is so much sadness that has forged their relationship, that I think the playfulness helped to balance it a little. Christine and Erik are so strong, so mature, so deep. Meg and Raoul's is a much different sort of relationship, perhaps rightfully so, not nearly as serious…after all…they've only begun to see each other in a different light. Erik and Christine loved each other for years….. Yes, Christine was brave, something that she has found to be very helpful. She wants to be a good wife, and because of that, she was willing to put her fears aside…so that she could be the wife she wanted to be…for Erik's sake. Oh how I wish we all had someone to love like that, and to be loved and adored like that….everyone would walk around just smiling wouldn't they?

**ElvieIII**: Yes, I was having a major craving myself! I'm not sure I'd be grabbing Madame Giry's chocolate though…if she's like any other woman…she might give your arm a little bite! I am not a jealous person, I am not a jealous person, I am not a jealous person….BUT….Oh….how I wish I could have toured the Garnier! What a very lovely thing that you were able to do that, and to see the lake no less! That is a dreamy little day trip for me… Yes, who could but help but hum that tune when you are there….I'd think it would happen all the time!

I smiled when I thought of your fan-club. You'll have to ask the instructors again and point out to them that there are tens of thousands, hey impress them and say throngs of fans out there that admire him, his work, his passion….that should count for something don't you think? Besides, they should give you credit for being a pioneer…because you can bet that in the next couple of years….that man's face is going to be everywhere!

**HopelesslyObsessed**: You do not need to be sorry my dear….school is very important, and though I enjoy hearing from you, I'd feel terrible if it interfered with your ability to cram every little bit of learning into your brain that you can. This story is designed to be a reprieve from our normal labors…a mini-vacation…and we all know we cannot be on vacation every day! I do hope you have a chance to keep up with your Phamily…but school should come first! Hope you had a great week at school!

**Phantomfan13**: Yes, everyone is preparing for the fall…whether it is going back to school, or college, or preparing for all the autumn festivities! I must confess that autumn is my favorite time of year…the apples, the pumpkins, the falling leaves…yes, I am a happy camper during the fall! Getting ready to go back to school is very expensive isn't it! I remember that very well.

You are a clever one…you are right…Crawlings wouldn't have knocked on the door at all…hmmmm… Yes, I was relieved myself when I found that it was the doctor…though I felt sorry for him when Erik grabbed him by the neck and had him suspended mid-air dangling….I could just picture it couldn't you?

**Liriel-eris**: My goodness…what an explanation! I'd no idea it was all that involved! It is interesting when cultures and languages meld though!

Yes, Erik and Christine will have their hands full indeed! I agree, I cannot wait to see Erik as a dad…it just makes me all warm and tingly inside just thinking about it! I too feel sympathy for Madame Giry…it reminds me of the line that Erik sang to Christine when Erik had him by the neck in the caverns below the Opera House… "No matter what you choose you cannot win…" All the emotions that will go into her decision…she loves them all….how could she ever be separated from any of them….oh such a cruel thing she has to endure. Ahhh…you discovered the essence of the growth between Nadir and Erik. For when one truly loves another…the greatest gift that can be given is freedom…if their happiness is to be found in a life that doesn't include us…. Christine's choice…yes, it was not an easy one. We all live with the expectations of others, whether it be of our friends, our parents, our employers, our significant others…there comes a point where we have to decide who is living our life…are we…or are they? She was brave, she chose happiness no matter what the cost. I think that is in part why her devotion…her love for Erik is so intense…she risked everything to be with him. When one does that, there is no looking back…no worrying about what others think. As far as Gaston…I have a couple of personal theories. Usually an author will write from the pain of their own experiences. I think he might have loved someone that he could never love, someone who perhaps had rebuffed or rejected him, and for Gaston, this story was an outlet for his frustration, his deep longing for someone he would never have. You simply cannot write something like this without ever having had a tragic love in your life…the only way you can do it with such passion is to have traveled the road yourself first. As to why he didn't let Erik and Christine be together…perhaps it is more of the same thing…he didn't "get the girl" so he forever immortalized a character in a story that suffered as he did, and this way he could "share the pain" with the rest of the world as the story lived on far beyond his lifetime. That's one theory of course. The other theory is that he followed in the footsteps of so many other great authors who wrote tragic romances such Shakespeare. If you have tragic romance in your heart, it has to have an outlet. I personally, think Gaston got it wrong…that is why, hundreds of pages later, I am still writing this story…trying to give it an ending that will make all of our hearts rest a little more happily!

Chocoholics abound in our Phamily! As for teas….I am a tea fanatic! I am very odd though, as I love coffee just as much. I have no less than ten different kinds of tea in my house at all times…it depends what kind of mood I'm in. The only one I am not really crazy about, sadly, is chamomile. Something about it makes me nauseated every time I try to drink it. My absolute favorite is black currant, followed closely by loose leaf green, and then by Orange and Spice. When I'm feeling rich I stop at a tea shop and pick up the latest offerings…it is so very much fun!

I'm glad you connected with the whole "Fiddler on The Roof" analogy…it just seemed to fit! Hey, you know, we don't really know what Raoul's father's first name is….hmmm….are you thinking what I'm thinking…. LOL! I loved what you said about the notebook! I am constantly writing things down on scraps of paper…ideas…thoughts. I swear if I was to get hit by a truck, someone would think I was as crazy as Howard Hughes, if they found all that stuff! It is a good way to live though. It helps us to keep that creative flow going, and reminds us every second, that we are alive…not just existing, but living, breathing, creatures capable of random and wonderful thought!

O.K., one last thing before I kill another cyber-tree…The countries thus far…France, Russian, Mediterranean (o.k., that one was a region!). Next up is Germany, Poland, Ethiopia, and Italy. Haven't planned beyond that, but I'm looking so forward to it!

**Christineluvserik**: You are most welcome for the welcome! We like having newly adopted Phamily members! I am humbled by your words regarding the story. The characters have truly become as near and dear to me as some of the people in the real world. I am thinking about publishing this story, once it is complete…but I'm not sure there would be enough interest for more than a few copies…and I'd hardly like to make a profit on it since it has been a labor of love. It makes me happy to know that others are enjoying the journey with me…if I can bring a smile to the face of someone else out there in the world…then my life will have been worth living! I hope that the coming chapters add to the happiness for the characters…I can just feel something brewing!

**Draegon-fire**: Thank you for your kind words. Yes, I think there are some intentional links to the movie here. There is something to be said for seeing the printed words come to life. Some, nay, most people are very visual, so if they have that point of reference to start from, it makes it easier to move to the printed word. I know most literary scholars would disagree with that statement, maybe even call it sacrilege, but in truth, the masses are a visual bunch!

I'm happy to hear that you are enjoying the transformation of Erik's character. He always had that deep core that longed to be happy. Now, faced with the prospect of finally having all that he thought he would never have…it is hard, but even more poignant than it would have been for the average man….much more. His sufferings will no doubt be of use to him as he raises his children….there will be very little that could ever happen to one of them, that he could not relate to on some level. Oh what a good dad he will be…and we already know what kind of a husband he is….everyone should be so fortunate!

Dancingdragon42: Welcome to the family! We hope your stay with our little Phamily will be a long and happy one! Yes, it has been a long time in the making, but it has been a true labor of love for the story of POTO! I think it is completely wonderful that someone is willing to commit so much time to reading so many chapters…I admire that about all our Phamily members…we are on a journey together…and it is not for the easily bored or the phaint of heart!

Now, as you've probably already realized, it is our tradition to attempt to guess at the origins of your tag name. Hmmm…..Dancing….implies you are a happy person….dragon…perhaps you like Puff the Magic Dragon? Or perhaps you just like dragons, which leads me to wonder about 42…O.K., I give up….If you are willing…please share with your new Phamily won't you?


	115. Arrivals

Chapter 115 Arrivals 

Madame Giry's carriage arrived at Raoul's front door, the coachman quickly escorting her from the carriage, opening the door to the house for her. "Hello…" she called as came in the door.

Raoul leaned over placing a kiss on Meg's cheek to wake her. She'd nodded off from the warmth of the fire. "Meg," he whispered in her ear, "Mother is home." He smiled…what a wonderful word…mother.

Meg stirred, turning her sleepy eyes up toward Raoul, and he leaned down again, placing a kiss on the end of her nose. "Come, let us go to greet her." Raoul stood, extending his hand to Meg.

She took it rising to join him. He crooked his elbow, and Meg placed her hand in it as he escorted her to the door just as her mother was opening it. "There the two of you are…have you rested from your adventures?" She said with a bit of sarcasm in her voice.

Meg and Raoul looked at one another and began to laugh. "I take it that you haven't had as much sleep as either of you required!" She said smiling at the pair of them, pulling the door to the room closed behind her.

XXXX

Nadir's carriage rattled along the dirt path between cities. He had spent much time in that carriage in the past days, and an even greater share of time, lost in his own thoughts. So much he thought about now was supposition. Nearly every thought began with IF, and that was not where Nadir was happy to settle.

The old woman in the village might hold the key to a number of questions, but then, that could simply be Nadir's wishful thinking…it would make things much easier.

Chauesser was a beautiful village, in part because of a gentile woman who'd put much of her life into the city, seeing to its refinement. Could this…..Lady she be…. it seemed far too intriguing to be mere coincidence.

The carriage jostled heavily as the wheel hit a small dip in the path, bringing Nadir back to reality as he felt the weight of the coffin scrape against the under side of the carriage. The carriage driver, rapped on the roof, declaring his apology.

Nadir's thoughts wandered off to Sara. While at the winter house he'd come to know her. She was a bit colorful at times, going on about stories of guests she'd had at her inn. She'd entertained them so many nights by the fireplace in Erik's room as he slept. Nadir smiled just thinking of it. She had cared for them so very much, baking special treats, attending to them with personal touches whenever she could. It was her final moments on this earth however, that Nadir would remember the most, though he'd not bared witness to them personally.

Nadir's face turned cold as he recalled Erik's description of the last moments when Sara made the ultimate sacrifice to save him. Somewhere deep inside, Nadir was ashamed to admit, he was a bit jealous….jealous that she had been the one to do it….Nadir had always imagined that it would be he…and that he would finally have been able to repay Erik that which he owed him.

Nadir shook his head, tears began to flow as he recalled Erik's last words before he left the winter house. "Nadir, that is my intention, at this moment, to release you from any obligations implied, imagined, or otherwise, my friend. Go seek that which makes you happy…that which makes you fulfilled, for we shall never pass this way again!"

Nadir's heart ached. He'd been loyal to this young man all of the years he knew him, and he could imagine being in no one else's service than his. How Erik had been so eloquent in this offering…and Nadir knew that it was heart-felt and true…Erik wanted him to be happy…but he could not truly be happy in a life that did not contain fully his dearest, dearest friend.

Nadir sighed, looking out the window. Paris was still a fair way off. Tonight he'd need to ask Raoul to store the carriage and Sara's pine box in his stables if he'd not find the undertaker at home with his late arrival. He knew that this would not likely be well received by Erik's staff, as there was much superstition surrounding having a corpse in one's stable… "death begets death" was a common utterance among stable hands. He might have no choice if the undertaker in Paris that had arranged for, would not be there at the hour Nadir would arrive, though they'd at least stop to inquire.

Nadir's thoughts now wandered to Christine. She'd appeared to be lit up from something deep within when he saw her, almost a bit more giddy than usual, as though she knew something he did not. He was thankful to see her happy, at peace, as he worried for her because of the visions she'd been having. He smiled, she really was a delicate creature yet had a strength of character beyond her years. Likely the only nature of woman that could ever have handled Erik and his many idiosyncrasies.

How he looked forward to the child that she carried…somehow he knew that this would fill such a void for Erik, something to love, a child to love as he had not been loved.

Nadir's mind quickly working…if only…there it was…that word again…IF… If Nadir could find some way to confirm things, perhaps some resolution could be had…but there was still much to do, and this had to be approached delicately. When next he was in Chauesser, he'd seek out the woman, perhaps befriending Nicole. He also wanted to seek out the elusive Lady C, that was likely best accomplished by making the acquaintance of the pastor that visited her.

Nadir shook his head again. It seemed to be something he was doing a great deal these days; he feared he might be starting to looking a bit insane! First things first…he'd have to find Sara's children, find the burial plot, sell her Inn…then, and only then, could he return to Chauesser. Nadir looked out the window again. He could see the lights of Paris in the distance, just another hour he thought to himself.

He was entirely glad that he'd not had any run-ins with Crawlings. It was a buzz among all the carriages that passed coming down that road. His return had been delayed no less than eight times when approaching carriages stopped to inquire what they'd seen on the road thus far. So far no one had caught sight of the boy or the carriage, though all were fearful of making an encounter…that was a boy with nothing to lose, and everything to gain by making certain that anyone who crossed his path did not live to tell about it.

XXX

Christine had fallen asleep in Erik's arms. He watched over her protectively, running his fingers through her silken chocolate curls. His worry for her was eating away like moths at the very fabric of his happiness. He'd tried to put it from his mind but alas, he could not. Had Christine come all of this way…had he brought her into his life, morphing from specter to husband… shared a marriage bed with her…had she taken care of him so lovingly only to go through tragedy herself in the very moments that would be the pinnacle of a new mother's happiness? Erik sighed. He couldn't allow himself to dwell on it for it was a swirling whirlpool threatening to suck him into a deep abyss of despair.

The present circumstances found Christine happy, healthy, and in his arms. None on this earth, he decided, knows what the next day might bring. He'd have to set his mind to loving this woman as fully as one could be loved…appreciated as she deserved, treasured…as he always had.

He kissed her forehead as his hand ran down over her stomach. He loved that which he could not yet see…loved THEM enough to guard their mother, every minute, of every hour, of every day. Christine sighed, Erik looked down. A sweet smile crossed her face as she nestled in ever further into his arms. He was blessed, and he'd delight in this with her, pushing aside all the negative thoughts that would threaten to deprive them of the happiness they both so longed for.

XXXX

DeChagny's carriage was nearing Raoul's house. He'd decided not to mention the portrait again, and in fact, it had already made its way to his house that very afternoon, so the point would be moot. It would not go back up in Raoul's house unless he asked to have the picture returned. Perhaps, his father thought, when he'd come to his senses, he'd apologize, and put it back in its rightful place, as was family tradition.

He was entirely ready for a good supper, and he hoped, a conversation with Nadir. He rather missed the friendly banter, and looked forward to their next conversation. So far his scouts had provided nothing in terms of information on the past of this new friend, and so DeChagny had decided, he'd do some inquiry of his own. He patted the large bottle of 12 year-old sherry-cask brandy that laid in the seat next to him. Perhaps that would wash away some of Nadir's reticence, putting him in the proper mood to be a bit more forthcoming.

XXX

Meg sat alone in the parlor once again. Raoul and her mother had gone off down the hall to his study to look at a plan for the dormitories, and had excused Meg from accompanying them…saying she would be far too bored to be bothered with such details right now. She'd been instructed to rest so that she could enjoy their dinner. Meg could hear music, yes most definitely music, and she wondered where it was coming from. She wandered to the window, and could see nothing outside, but was entirely certain that is where it was coming from.

Meg peeked out into the hall. The music was much louder when she pushed open the doors. It was coming from the gardens in the rear of the house. She looked from side to side, and could see no one. She tip-toed down to the study, where she could hear Madame Giry and Raoul talking. She didn't tarry but instead quickly made her way passed the door so she could see outside into the gardens. Pushing aside the silken curtain that covered one of the doors, she could see a wagon had been pulled up near the stables, and there were several men playing instruments, and Raoul's staff were sitting around in chairs, and some were even dancing.

Meg cocked her head to one side. "How odd" she said under her breath. She so wanted to open the door to get a better look, but decided against it as the close proximity to the study would certainly attract Raoul and her mother's attention, and she would be caught.

Meg thought for a moment, and then made her way back down the hall and to the entrance at the front of the house. The door had been latched shut, though Meg couldn't imagine why. She carefully opened it, slipping out and closing it quietly behind her.

She made her way around the side of the house, dodging shrubbery, statues, and the like. In a few minutes time she'd made her way to the corner of the house where she could peek through the edges of the shrubbery into the back lawn and gardens. The music was Celtic, not at all what Meg had expected. She smiled as Raoul's staff was so obviously enjoying it. It was an oddity really to see them not at work, the expressions on their faces more relaxed, less guarded as they made merriment. They were a proper household through and through, and no doubt at least in part because of Raoul's father's influence. He liked things orderly, structured, and in his words sophisticated, refined. No doubt he would have frowned on their behavior. But in his absence, they enjoyed themselves.

Meg stood just listening to the music, her foot began to tap. She'd not danced anything in years that had not been choreographed and rehearsed. The sheer idea of spontaneous movement for the sheer pleasure of it was nearly a foreign distraction. The last time she could actually remember dancing in that manner was with her father. He'd carefully placed her stocking-clad feet on the tops of his worn leather shoes, leaning down to hold her hands as they danced on a Christmas eve… oh that was such a sweet memory…Meg found herself lost in it.

She jerked as she heard the sound of carriage wheels rattling down the path to the front of the house. Meg turned seeing the carriage from a distance, she wasn't certain if it would be Raoul's father, or if it would be the doctor, or yet another carriage bringing something for delivery.

Meg glanced around. No matter which way she went she'd be discovered. Going to the front door again would be safest, but not if it was Raoul's father…he would certainly betray her…and she had after all promised Raoul that she'd not be anywhere outside without him or a proper escort, though she hadn't known why he made her promise such a thing. If it were a delivery, she could easily wait until they'd gone passed and then dart to the front of the house…but there was no way to know until the carriage was far too close, and then she would be trapped.

She glanced back towards the back lawn. Perhaps they'd be too distracted to notice her make her way along the side of the house and into the back door. Meg began inching her way to the corner, but quickly retreated when she saw one of the men standing at the back door, gun on his shoulder. That option quickly dissolved. She glanced over her shoulder. Maybe she could wait to see if it was a delivery and then she'd slip back in the door…and if it was not…if it was not…well…she'd have to cross that path if it came to that.

XXXX

Raoul stood in the hall outside of the room. He'd been there nearly fifteen minutes. Though Madame Giry had implored him to come in with her to help with the last few adjustments, he'd declined, telling her that he'd want Meg to see it first. He'd heard a few things being moved about. Cabinet doors being opened and shut. Finally, Madame Giry came to the door, opening it and then closing it behind her.

Her eyes were dewy as she looked at Raoul. "It is perfect Raoul…and I must say your sister is quite a resourceful woman!" Raoul smiled. "Whatever do you mean?" Madame Giry reached up and brushed away a tear that was threatening to fall. "I think the poor dear must have followed me everywhere, watching what I selected, and what I put back." Raoul cocked his head to the side, "Madame?" She looked down at the ground.

"It seems that many more things made their way to your home Raoul, more than I'd expected. She'd even gone to the trouble of making certain if there was something I'd looked at but decided against in lieu of something less extravagant…she'd had the merchants make the exchange after I'd placed my orders. She also took the liberty of selecting an assortment of scented oils and parfumes… luxuries that I'd not even looked at."

Raoul smiled with pleasure. For all the teasing he and his sister had done over the years, she was a lady with class, and he was grateful for the detail she'd gone to in order to see his wishes through. "Madame Giry, is it ready…is it ready for Meg to see it?" Raoul had a look of eager anticipation on his face.

Madame Giry smiled at him. "Raoul, it is wonderful, and yes, it is ready…whenever you are." Raoul smiled back at her. He wanted to do it right then and there…to rush down stairs and bring Meg back up, but he decided it was best for everyone if he'd wait until after dinner, so that at least it wouldn't be delayed.

He sighed. "I suppose we should go down for dinner. I'd expect," Raoul raised his eyebrows, "if my father IS coming for dinner this evening he would be arriving very soon. He never takes his dinner after seven in the evening. He'd skip it rather than to eat any later." Raoul was shaking his head. One of the many quirks in his father's behavior that he'd never quite understand. "Come let us go, we can have a glass of sherry while we wait."

Madame Giry accepted Raoul's arm as he escorted her down the stairs. She smiled, he was a considerate young man, and someday, he'd make a suitable son-in-law, even if it wasn't for her.

**Author's Notes:**

**Captain Oblivious**: Good to hear you made it to school and are all moved in. The dorm thing is both fun, and challenging. You can get pretty creative in finding ways to stretch every inch of a room! I've seen so many things stacked, like two refrigerators on top of each other, with a microwave on top of that. Stacked dressers…well you get the idea. There is nothing like dorm life though…it gives you a whole new appreciation for peace and quiet…but those are truly the memories you'll take with you all of your life! Now don't spend too much at Walmart on your room…Susie might get jealous…maybe you'll have to buy her one of those nice little car fresheners or something!

Yes, the story, sorry about Christine…we knew this wouldn't be easy didn't we? Happily ever after…only if we had that guarantee….(Laughs wickedly!)

Here's wishing you a great first week of school…and may you not get athlete's feet from the school showers….better pick up an extra pair of flip-flops at Wal-Mart!

**DivePrincess**: I am so relieved to hear from you, if however briefly. We've been nothing less than a little worried about you! No doubt school has occupied much of your time in recent weeks. We hope your legs are healing well enough that you can enjoy this all important year! Do stay in touch with your Phamily…we are happy to hear that you are keeping up with us!

**PhantomsRogue**: My, my, a filler indeed…perhaps a pause…setting the tone you know. As long as you're reading, I'll keep posting! Darned puppy…best be buying him a much less expensive (not to mention less dangerous) chew toy. Glad to see it didn't keep you from keeping up with us!

**Poetzproblem**: I had to read your review twice, I must confess. I do not disagree with you, I think Raoul treated Christine more as an object to be possessed, and less like a living breathing human. And you are right, he didn't really listen to her when she tried to tell him things. Perhaps our Raoul has finally learned his lesson, or perhaps it is as the doctor told him…he'd come to love Meg as an adult so he could think of her as an adult…not the way he'd thought about Christine as "Little Lottie." I do appreciate the opinions of others, do not worry.

Thank you for the compliment on the interjection of Christine's mother into the story. I wondered about her absence in the original story…so much was left out…left to our imagination. Yes, childbirth with one is enough to handle….but multiples…I can only imagine.

**Christineluverik**: You are far too sweet for words. To even be considered for anyone's bookshelf is more than I could have ever imagined. I will keep it in mind should it end up that far. Thank you. bows graciously

**Christinelovesphantom**: Thank you for the compliment on the chapter. I rather enjoyed it myself, though I must say I cannot curb the craving for chocolate even yet. Yes, my favorite too is milk-chocolate…wouldn't you know, the one that is the worst for you! Let's hope your dad's temper is nothing like Erik's because I know Erik wouldn't take too kindly to anyone depriving him of his hidden stash! I did have a great weekend even though it was busy….and I was parted from my computer!

**DancingDragon42**: I am always so very interested in how people choose their names. Yours is very original, and I can tell you put quite a little thought into it. You must have a bent for the scientific if you are interested in averages and such…perhaps a future statistician? I like the whimsical part too!

Thank you for noticing the detail. I try not to leave parts of a story behind if I can at all help it. I think it gives it more reality, more strength. Although I do leave parts of a story dormant for awhile at times…but usually not without intention! Hope you enjoy this next chapter!

**Tex110:** Welcome to the family! We hope your stay with our little Phamily is a long and happy one. Thank you for having the courage, and stamina to read so many chapters to get to this point! That is no small undertaking as some of our newest phamily members would tell you!

Now, it is our tradition to inquire about your tag name. Hmmmm….I'm thinking you are from Texas? And I think it is fairly safe to assume you are not 110, so perhaps how hot is down there now….no? Please if you are willing, do share with your new little phamily!


	116. Perceptions

**Chapter 116 Perceptions**

Erik slipped from beneath Christine's sleeping form. She was resting peacefully and he'd no want to disturb her. Yes, it was too early to retire for the evening, but he'd let her sleep. Her grief had exhausted her, and he knew a bit of extra rest for a woman in her condition, was always favorable.

He stood over her for a few minutes, just watching her. Oh how he loved this woman that now bore the very future of their family within her womb. In those moments he felt so small, so utterly inadequate, so in need of a strength beyond that which he possessed.

He fell to his knees beside the bed. Reaching out laying one hand on Christine's abdomen, reaching out to hold her hand with the other. He lowered his head saying a silent prayer. "Dear Lord, I entrust to you all that you have given me. Protect them Lord, let them grow in your love, and in mine. Please give me the strength and wisdom to do all that you would have me to do for them. Give Christine good health in mind and body…" his throat was swollen, barely able to think as he spoke the last words out loud quietly, "and may you hold this woman…my wife…the mother to my children…in the palm of your hand. Amen"

Erik turned his head upward looking at the ceiling as he rose once more. He'd have faith, he had to, for what was faith if not the belief that a greater good is served by all that is out of one's control? For if you'd no faith…what was the point of existence? As he stared up at the angels he'd painted years before, he marveled at it. He'd never expected to have them there for more than decoration, and now it seemed, they would serve a second higher purpose…to watch over all that he held dear in this world.

He left the room, closing the door as quietly as he could, lest he raise her from her slumber. Erik wandered down the hall. They'd soon be needing to decide which room they would turn into a nursery, he thought, and now was as good a time as any. He loved surprising Christine…being one step ahead of her.

He walked into the room across the hall. It was large, which would be a benefit, considering the number of them, but it seemed almost too large, a bit impersonal. That would not do. He walked to the room that had the largest number of windows. The light would be good, but it was in his opinion too far away. He wandered back down to the room that adjoined theirs. It had been built as a sitting room for the master chambers, but perhaps it would be adequate he thought to himself, at least that first year.

A broad smile crossed his face as he entered the room. For there, in the center, was a rocking chair. He walked over to it sitting down and gazing upon Christine's sleeping in the bed. She'd already decided, and he had to say, from his vantage point, as he sat rocking back and forth staring at Christine, he couldn't agree more. The coming weeks were likely to be very quite as they waited for word from Paris, perhaps they could begin with plans to transform this room into a functioning nursery. It had been some time since Erik had taken up his pen to draft a drawing, but it would be a labor of love. He smiled. He had brought back catalog sheets from the mercantile that very afternoon. Various styles of cribs and other items one would need to furnish a nursery properly. He thought he had been planning ahead of Christine and would be prepared for her when she was ready…but now it seemed…she'd already been contemplating the very same things! It may take a lifetime Erik mused, to not be surprised by how very much they thought alike, but for now, it still amazed him.

He rocked back and forth, back and forth, imagining spending hours in that very chair, rocking their children as he sang them a lullaby, as Christine sang them a lullaby, as they shared in the care of their children….together. He closed his eyes and began to hum a lullaby in his head…he'd learned a few, but quickly made up his mind, he'd add to the one's that he already knew…each child would have their own unique set of lullabies, he'd decided, so that as much as they were siblings, they would each have an individual identities, complete with a set of music that was all their own….right from the beginning. Though he'd thought he'd rested well, it wasn't long before a heavy sleepiness settled in upon him. He'd started to slip into the netherworlds of slumber when he felt something touch his hand. It was Christine She was climbing into his lap.

"Hold me…" she said as she pulled the blanket she'd brought with her over them both. "The day is growing cold…a storm is coming….I can feel it." She said as she sleepily rested her head in along Erik's neck. Erik wrapped his arms around her squeezing her shoulders once before settling in with his arms protectively around her. He was content to stay there as long as she liked.

She whispered into his neck, "at least we are certain that this chair is sturdier than that crate!" Erik laughed as he placed a kiss on her temple, as he remembered the event, it had been humorous indeed, and thinking of it even now, gave him cause to laugh. "Yes it is my dear, yes it is."

XXXX

Meg held her breath as the carriage grew larger and larger. Her eyes darting to the front of the house and the back. She'd have so little opportunity to make a decision if it was the wrong carriage that approached. She watched as the carriage pulled closer to the house. Her heart sank…it was Raoul's father! She could neither run to the back of the house for she'd be discovered, nor run to the stables, as she'd most certainly be found…she began to breathe rapidly, starting to feel faint…

She stopped herself…she couldn't do that, she couldn't do that…however would she explain being found in the bushes outside the house…they'd think her to have been driven quite mad! She crouched as low as she could until she heard Raoul's father's voice, giving orders for the coachman to wait there. Meg watched as a deep scowl crossed his face. He walked a few steps toward the side of the house, he'd heard the music. He took a yet a few more steps peering around the tall foliage. Meg was terrified, he was not ten feet from where she sat crouched in the bushes. He walked even closer until he stood directly next to her. If he were to look down, just on the other side of the waist-high shrubbery, she'd be found!

He stood there for what seemed to Meg like an eternity before he turned and retreated, mumbling under his breath "darned fool, how would this look if someone paid him a visit unexpectedly!"

Meg wanted to laugh at his obvious agitation. He was something of a curmudgeon Meg thought…never wanting anyone to partake in the simplistic pleasures of every-day life. No doubt Raoul would be scolded for this…no less than twice in one day!

Meg winced as the carriage drove round the side of the house. The carriage driver having an obviously higher vantage point would be able to see her. She crouched lower, and decided to lay down flat against the ground, just slightly under the bushes…it was the only chance she had. She could hear the horses breathing, the slow rattle of the wheels over the crushed stone. After the carriage rattled off, she took in a deep breath. That had been far too close.

Now she was wishing she'd simply opened the back door to the terrace, and stood outside on the bricks with the staff who stood watching over the rest. At least then she'd have just received a partial scolding, and it would have been forgotten. This behavior, was entirely out of the ordinary…entirely like someone who felt they had to sneak about…had something to hide.

Then she had an epiphany…perhaps it was her conscience that led her to do these outlandish things…she did have something to hide, and it was driving her to the very brink of insanity. Though she could tell no one, her anxiety was coming out in other less expected ways…

She was working quickly in her mind, she needed to find a way back into that house and soon, before everyone discovered her missing! There was a trellis not far from where she stood, leading up into Raoul's room. She looked up, he did have one of his windows open. She grabbed onto the side of the trellis, giving it a good shake. It seemed to be sturdy enough. She looked down at her full skirt. This would indeed be a challenge.

She looked both ways. As far as she could tell, no one could see her. Lifting her skirt to her waist, her bloomers were on display for any who might happen upon her. She would have to move quickly. She pressed her feet into the first rungs as she lifted herself from the ground. The wooden structure creaking a bit under the strain of having something much heavier than a wandering ivy on it. She stopped. She shook it once more. It felt secure. Slowly she climbed up two more rungs, fighting with her skirt. Then she heard it. Yet another carriage was approaching.

She quickly retreated down the trellis, nearly tripping on the way. Meg sat crouched where she was before and watched as the carriage drove passed her and on toward the stables. Surely this was yet another one of the deliveries. Meg could hear Raoul's staff clapping.

She took herself to the corner of the house again, peering around just above the shrubs. The men were helping to carry off large baskets, and several large pots. "Raoul had dinner brought for them…" Meg thought to herself. Perhaps he always treated them to such festivities, though she thought perhaps not, they seemed to be enjoying it much more than if it had been an every-day occurrence.

Meg watched as the staff moved into the side of the stable house that contained their dining room. The man who'd been standing at the door into the house had gone down to the carriage, and Meg had started to creep beyond the corner, but quickly had to return to her hiding place as he began walking toward the house carrying a rather large basket covered in a fine white linen. He opened and closed the door behind himself.

This was Meg's chance, if ever she was to have an opportunity, this would be it. She ran quickly toward the front of the house, Raoul's father was on the front stoop having a cigar muttering to himself. She ran quickly back to the back of the house and scooted to just below the window of the kitchen that overlooked the back gardens. The man was helping Madeline unload the contents of the basket. Meg snuck to the door, but could see that the library door was open, and she'd be discovered by Raoul and her mother if she entered there.

She held her breath once more, and then, without thinking of the consequences, she went back to the corner of the house, running across the open space from one side of the graveled path to the other, making her way to the line of shrubs that led along the path extending down to the carriage house. She ran, half-crouched over down the outside of the shrubs until she reached the carriage house and quickly ducked into the first unlatched door she could find, closing it behind her.

She was breathing heavily as she leaned back against a post, or something wooden, she couldn't quite tell what it was. Her eyes were wide. Why had she run down to the carriage house? Now what on earth was she going to do? Step by step she'd only made matters worse for herself…her guilt had driven her beyond reason, and now she seemed to be confused by even the most obvious things.

As her eyes adjusted to the light within the room, she began to recognize what she was leaning against…it was the posters of the bed she'd been sleeping in. She spun around on her heels. There was the chase, the armoire, the dresser, the vanity…all of the things from her room were in there…but why? She thought Raoul had simply had them moved to another…. Her eyes grew glassy…her first instincts had been right…he'd been making changes…changes for her.

She smiled as she thought of the lengths he'd gone to to keep it a secret from her. She had to find a way back into that house, lest she spoil his surprise. Then it hit her. The small night table, the one containing the bottles from the doctor…it had to be in there. This would be her one chance to retrieve them, for certainly the contents of this storehouse was not going to be within her grasp again.

She began moving about, as quietly as she could. So many things were stacked on one another, a shame, Meg thought, for such nice furnishings to be stored in such a manner. Any young woman would have loved to have owned even one piece of them. She moved pictures, and basins, a chair, a pile of curtains. She'd nearly given up when at last she found it.

Quickly reaching out she pulled the drawer open, withdrawing the two tiny bottles. She turned to leave, climbing over all of the chairs and furnishings. She carefully peeked out the door. There was still no one outside, the man must still be inside assisting Madeline, but Meg knew he wouldn't be much longer. She opened and closed the door, crouching low she made her way as quickly as she could along the edge of the shrubbery. She paused, panting at the corner of the shrubs before she darted across the gravel path and back to the house.

She leaned heavily against the brick, trying to catch her breath. She heard the door to the back of the house close once more, and the scraping of what she was certain was a chair. She peered around the corner, and sure enough, there sat the man, a plate of food in his hands, resting in his chair. That would not be her entrance.

She made her way back to the front of the house, pausing briefly to look at the trellis…she'd try the front door first. Slowly she peered around the corner of the front of the house. Raoul's father must have gone inside. She quickly darted to the window of the parlor, peering in she saw that the room was still empty. So far they'd not noticed her missing. She inched over to the door, and pressed her ear against it. She could hear nothing. Carefully she turned the handle, slowly pushing it open. She peered inside. There was no one in the hall. She darted in quickly, closing the door and scurrying to the parlor door, opening and closing it as quickly as she could.

She heard footsteps in the hall. She nearly lept to chair in front of the fire as the the door opened. "Meg has been resting before dinner, I'll retrieve her and then join you in the dining room." Meg looked down, her dress had dried grass on the front, she brushed it off as the door began to open. Raoul walked in, a large smile on his face, a bit more twinkle in his eye than usual.

He came to Meg, his face quickly changing to a blank face of worry. "Meg, you look…" he was staring at her, her rapid breathing making him nervous, "you look flushed my dear…are you alright?" He came to kneel at her side.

She deposited the two bottles of pills deeply between the cushions of the chair. She'd have to return for them later. "Why yes, I guess I'm just a bit warm sitting here by the fire…" she had to think quickly…. "and I'm a bit nervous to have dinner with your father.."

Raoul's face immediately returned to his relaxed state. He reached out taking Meg by the hand. "Do not worry for my father, he will be most amenable my dear. You have my word." Raoul leaned down placing a kiss on Meg's flushed forehead. "You are warm aren't you my dear." He said as he extended his arm to her.

She took it, breathing a sigh of relief. She'd have dinner, try to forget what just happened, and return for those bottles later. A little tickle came from behind her ear as she walked with Raoul. She reached up, and retrieving a lady bug.

"Wherever did you find that?" Raoul said to her. "It must have come in by itself!" was all Meg could manage. She just hoped that no other bugs would present themselves at the dinner table. That is what she deserved for hiding in the bushes!

XXXX

Nadir breathed a sigh of relief when the carriage wheels hit the cobblestone streets of Paris. They'd made it that far, and no sight of Crawlings. The trip had been slower than he liked because of the cargo, but he was grateful that they had made it without incident Sara would soon be at her husband's side, where she belonged.

The carriage made a turn to the left and wandered down LeMortum street. It was one nearly every carriage avoided unless given no choice. It was called the "the street of the dead" by all in Paris. School boys made dares of bravery for anyone who could walk down the street from end to end, and nearly fell at the feet genuflecting to anyone who did so after dark. The buildings were not ominous, just a simple row of brick structures, each cleverly named, all the same purpose. The dark alley behind them was a place none ventured, not even on a dare. A river of blood ran there, and no one ventured there….no one.

A cold wind whistled through the street, adding a chilling affirmation to the street's reputation. The carriage slowed in front of the undertaker selected by Erik to handle Sara's final arrangements. Perdue was known for his discretion, and his tact. All of the wealthy families made their arrangements there for a variety of all too obvious reasons. Erik held him in the highest regard one can for one that does such work for a living.

Nadir slowly disembarked the carriage, unassisted by the carriage driver, who shaw fit to stay in his perch above the carriage. An icy chill went up Nadir's back as he saw curtains move on several of the other buildings on either side, but no faces appeared.

He walked up the plank-lined path to the front door of the establishment. A rather large door-knocker lay in the center of an oversized door…no doubt made large enough to allow for the passage of a casket of considerable size. He knocked several times, lightly at first, and then harder when no response was made; the reverberating echo as shrill and piercing as the place itself. After several minutes of waiting, he returned to the carriage. It was as he suspected, too late to be paying a visit. He felt a bit of relief once back inside the carriage. He noticed the driver made haste removing them from the street. The hairs on the back of Nadir's neck were raised slightly, he wasn't afraid really, just unsettled, yes…unsettled he decided as he reached up his hand to smooth them back down.

XXXX

Madame Giry, Meg, Raoul, and his father had all settled around the formal dining room table. The fine blue rimmed china set out in front of them, several wine glasses each, and a water goblet. Finger bowls, and seafood forks, bread and butter plates, and a small shallow dish for bones sat next to each plate.

The utensils were daunting for the untrained, and Meg felt as if it were yet another one of the many tests that she'd have to pass. Thankfully her mother had seen fit to train her as a proper young woman. Though their diet usually consisted of the whatever the cooks at the Opera Populaire made for them, her mother had spent many an evening when she was growing up, rehearsing her table manners. She could almost hear her mother "manners are of the utmost importance my dear. Knowing how to use one's utensils, and having proper social graces, are means not only for the wealthy but for the refined, one never knows to whose house they might be invited for dinner."

Her mother always tried to emphasize the positive, truly Meg knew she hoped, as the mother of every other young girl hoped, that she would make a good match one day, and being well trained only assisted one down that path.

Raoul's father had already relaxed himself with a glass of sherry, but nodded fondly at the maid who would serve them the first in a flight of wines. A half-inch was poured in his glass as he raised it to assess the color, the clarity, the bouquet, before taking his first sip, dabbling it on his palate before nodding in assent.

"Chardonnay Miss?" Meg nodded. The maid went around filling the glasses for each of them. Meg took her silent cues from Raoul, when he lifted his glass for a sip, she knew she might do so as well. The first course was oysters. Though Meg had them only twice before, she knew how to handle the tools correctly so as not to catapult the shells across the room when clasped by the utensil. She and her mother had fits of laugher the first night she'd used them. No less than a dozen times, the oyster had slipped from the clamp and flown across the room. It took a bit of finesse to use one, but once mastered, it was almost artistic to observe.

That course done, Meg felt a sigh of relief. The wine had been selected especially for the oysters, and she had to say it was a welcome relief to have something pleasant on her tongue. Oysters were an acquired taste. The next course was a light vegetable bisque. The art of using a soup spoon Meg had mastered when she was but a small girl, so this gave her little cause for worry.

The next course was the proper lemon sorbet to cleanse the palate. So far Meg had been able to handle the food with casual indifference, which is what was expected of high society. Though she'd shared lunch with Raoul and his father a number of times, this was the first time it had been so many courses, and she knew, though he'd not admit it, Raoul's father was watching her for any missteps in manner or method.

The sorbet finished, Meg knew a new glass of wine would be served so she moved her current glass off slightly to the side, indicating that she was finished with it. She caught that Raoul's father raised his eyebrow…indeed, she'd been instructed well.

Her mother had maintained pleasant conversation throughout the dinner, having more than enough to talk about regarding the Opera House dormitories, and some of the revisions that had been made. She'd not yet brought up her living quarters…how does one properly thank an employer for such an extravagance?

Next came the salad, along with a glass of Riesling. The order of the courses was somewhat altered from what Meg had seen, but she'd acted as though she'd not taken notice, yet another sign of good-breeding.

The main course was stuffed goose, carved at the table by DeChagny himself. Meg had selected several slices, with a wee bit of the cranberry relish that lay in a small dish beside each plate. Madeline entered carrying two bottles of wine, one red, one white. DeChagny's final test… He turned to Meg, "and which should we have my dear, the Fleurie Beaujolais, or the Pinot Blanc?"

Meg tried not to smile, this was designed to be a trick question. Most would think foul, therefore white, but Meg knew that goose was the exception, for goose it was red. "With our sumptuous goose, I should think the Fleurie Beaujolais would be excellent" she said politely. DeChagny gave Meg what she thought might be the first genuine smile.

"I couldn't agree more my dear." The cork was removed, and glasses served. She'd passed, and she was relieved. The only thing to remain after the main course was dessert, and even a street peasant couldn't make a mistake there. For but one utensil remained for each in the place setting….the quintessential dessert fork.

Raoul waited until Madame Giry and his father were in deep conversation again about the Opera House before he glanced down the table at Meg. He smiled at her, dipping his head slightly in recognition. She'd done well, though he wouldn't have cared if she had not. It simply made things much less complicated for his father. It took a very long time for one to enter his good favor, and Meg had just earned her first interest in moving there.

**Author's Notes:**

**Dear Faithfuls**: I don't know where everyone lives, but where I live, fall was in the air this morning! I love autumn…I think I've mentioned that a time or two. This chapter made me hungry for a good old fashioned turkey dinner! Sorry if I've put anyone in the mood for a major "food-fest", there is just something about the air this time of year!

**Captain Oblivious**: Ah yes, the apartment-style dorm. They are rather nice aren't they? You do have a bit more room, and at least some way of getting away from your room mate, even if she is one of your best friends! Oh, those were the days…

Yes, Meg and Raoul's relationship has many facets. There is the temporal world of simplicity that they are living in now, but there are some pretty difficult things that lurk behind the dark corners they have yet to traverse….

**DarkMoonLightBright**: Of course your little Phamily understands that you have been busy. Busy is happy, and happy is busy… you get the idea. Sometimes the people we care about the most we don't hear from as often as we like, but usually in those cases no news is good news! Thank you for the compliment on the chapters. I hope you'll find this one no less pleasing!

**PhantomsRogue**: Good for you, Dell came through…hey, that rhymes! Well, good to hear everything is back in working order, and that the puppy must have survived! Do not worry my dear, I've no intentions of depriving Erik of his Christine! I didn't say it would be easy though. Now, now, we've talked about that work thing….I don't want anyone being unemployed because of me! Do be careful my dear.

**PhantomLover05**: Do not worry about Christine…..Erik will do enough worrying no doubt for all of us!

**ChristinelovesPhantom**: You could say "Love" isn't far strong enough a word for the way I feel about chocolate! I'm glad your dad would be a bit more understanding than Erik for raiding his stash! Very fun to get to visit your alma mater! Have a great lunch, and by all means, have a little chocolate!

No my dear, my college education is but a memory for me. I am out in the world just making my way I guess you could say. I do cherish my school memories though…"those were the best of times, and the worst of times." LOL

**Poetzproblem**: My, my, that active imagination is at work again isn't it! Yes, our little Meg is more distraught than I think she even realizes. There is something about the inner torment of knowing something that you cannot tell someone, especially if it is something that they desperately want to know….she will struggle for it…bad decisions and all!

**Crayann**: Good to hear from you! We miss our Phamily members when they are away! Thank you for you kind words regarding the chapter. And yes, I am toying with the idea of publishing, but until the work is done, I must keep my focus here… Thank you also for thinking about the bit with Nadir and Sara. I too often wonder how I would feel if someone else sacrificed themselves for someone I loved…I think I would be doing the whole "it should have been me…..I wanted to do it" sort of mental torment. Glad someone picked up on it!

**PhantomFan13**: No, I've not see Sara Brightman, but I have seen POTO on stage a number of times…I must say….I love the movie more. They were able to do so many things that just cannot be during a live production. And of course, they could embellish the stages, etc.

Glad to hear you like the little "Puff the Magic Dragon" diversion…it is a whimsical song isn't it?

**Tex110**: Got it…makes sense to me. The numbers in tag names always interest me, they are never just random. Oh, Colorado….a beautiful place, I've been there several times. I really like being at a ranch outside for a "cowboy" dinner. Something about being surrounded by those majestic pines out in the middle of what seems like no where, around a campfire with a hundred other people you don't really know…it was fun!

**Draegon-Fire**: I know just what you mean. I know most people like to read the book first, but when I do that I tend to be far more critical of the movie, and it completely messes with my perspective of the place, the characters etc. BUT, if I see the movie first, then I don't have any misconceptions…all that to say..I agree.

Yes, most certainly there is a need for a few transitional chapters before another flurry of things can start happening….Good that you picked up on that.


	117. The Calm Before The Storm

**Chapter 117 The Calm Before the Storm**

Erik gently woke Christine. They'd slept until it was nearly dark outside. The household was still awake, Erik could hear them talking and closing the windows and shutters on the house on the floor below. Erik had to agree with Christine, it had grown cold outside, though in her presence, he felt nothing but warmth through and through.

Erik heard footsteps on the stairs, and then a gentle knock on the door of the master chamber. "Monsieur?" Called a small voice. The woman peeked inside the door hearing no reply.

Erik called out through the open door between the two rooms. "We are in here." The woman glanced over to where she had heard Erik's voice. Seeing him there holding Christine in his lap, she smiled. She had a small bundle of wood in her arms.

"I'll start a fire for you Monsieur, then I'll bring you up a fresh pot of tea." Erik nodded, "thank you." Erik thought for a moment. "You've no need to bring the pot of tea up, we shall come down." She smiled at him as she knelt next to the fireplace arranging the kindling, "very well Monsieur."

As Erik sat with Christine in his arms, inside a room that would be the nursery for their yet unborn children, he watched as the maid built the fire. He shook his head briefly, just once. How very odd it was…it was nearly a normal set of circumstances, in a normal household…and he relished the thought that there might be many, many, more days in their lives where he might bask in these simple pleasures.

Living for years beneath the Opera House, no fire to warm him, no woman to love him, had eroded his grasp on humanity. But now, slowly, the creature he held within his arms had breathed life back into him.

Soon the maid was finished, and she rose going from the room. Erik lifted Christine into his arms, carrying her through the doors, laying her carefully on the bed. He went to her closets, where the things that had been brought from Courtland Manor were placed. He looked through the wardrobe, not many items were in that closet that would be fitting her soon. He'd have to take her into to Chauesser and have a seamstress make her garments suitable for her present circumstances.

Erik drew out a thick nightdress, and a plush robe. Going back to Christine he smiled as he looked at her sleeping like a kitten curled once again in a ball in the center of their expansive bed. Laying her items down on the bed, he went about changing into his nightclothes and long black smoking jacket. He was grateful that his staff had retrieved some of their personal effects from Courtland Manor; it made their stay at the winter house a bit more comfortable. Once dressed, he returned to Christine.

She was just beginning to open her eyes. The radiant glow from the fire had begun to warm the room. Erik stood beside her just watching as the slow, deliberate, blinks of her eyelids, rimmed in long silk-like raven-black lashes, revealed the warm chocolate brown eyes of the woman he so loved.

She reached out her hand for his. "Erik…" He came to rest next to her on the edge of the bed, taking her hand in his. "I am dreadfully sorry for my behavior…to have left so abruptly…I know that I shan't worry for a future over which I am able to exert so little control. I know that you worry for me…I can see it in your eyes.."

Erik looked away…had it been that obvious? "We have been through so very much together, you and I, and this shall be no different." Christine tried to sit up, Erik coming swiftly to her aid as she found herself somewhat tangled in the blanket he'd wrapped around her.

She leaned her head over onto his shoulder, rubbing her soft cheek on the curve of his neck. "Erik, there is a happy serendipity about all of this." Erik looked at her with such question in his eye…how ever did she arrive at this optimistic conclusion? Christine smiled at him.

"All those years we spent in one another's company, not really knowing….we learned to love each other…appreciate each other…" She nestled into Erik's chest. "I never thought I'd find a true love…someone as passionate about life as my father." She kissed his neck, sending a shudder down his spine. "Lads my age were decidedly less than exemplary in that regard…others wanted mere ornaments…others well…I wasn't like some of the other girls at the Opera House." Christine looked down at her lap. Erik knew what she meant.

Christine turned her head looking back up into the depths of the oceans that were Erik's eyes. In her own glowed a deep, mesmeric, passion. Her voice as sure and pining as a mourning dove. "And you my dearest Erik, how long you suffered, how long you waited, how long you tarried upon the thought of our being as one." Erik felt flushed…she had known. A moment of silence fell upon them, their eyes locked in a hypnotic dance.

Christine tilted her head back, reaching up with her index finger lifting Erik's chin so that he too was staring up at the ceiling above their bed. "I've found your secrets my love…."

Erik smiled as he stared at the precise point where he'd finished his painting on that ceiling. Where, when he'd finally come to the end of his labors on that hot summer afternoon. In love he'd fashioned it; he'd hidden the words in the swirls of the ribbons. And truly, only she could have found them. Erik tilted his head back down, looking deeply into Christine's pleading eyes.

"If one has waited so long….loved so much….I shan't see how God would separate us now that we are finally where we belong, where we've always belonged, in one another's arms." Christine said, a single tear cresting and breaching her lower lid.

Erik leaned down placing a passionate kiss on Christine's lips. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her torso against his. Gently, he turned slowly lowering her to the comfort of the bed beneath them. He would be gentle, he would be tender…he loved this woman…loved her with every fiber of his being…and they could do nothing more than express their love in the way that their creator had given them.

XXXX

Nadir's carriage rattled off of the cobblestone streets onto the dirt paths that would lead to Raoul's house. He both looked forward to, and was concerned for his arrival at Raoul's. The pine box would make him less than welcome, though he really had no choice in the matter.

His mind wandered to all he'd have to accomplish the next day. He hoped to have Sara at Perdue's just shortly after sunrise, to avoid traversing the streets of Paris during a busy day. He needed to care for so many things. After he'd deposited Sara, he'd be off to the offices of the government, and then Sara's Inn. That much he'd settled upon.

Nadir looked at the wrapped gift on the seat across from him that had bounced around all the way from the winter house. No doubt Meg would be grateful to receive it. He knew how very much Christine and Meg cared for one another. Their separation was painful for truly this was the longest they'd been parted since Madame Giry had taken Christine under her wing. The package was daintily wrapped, something Meg would appreciate no doubt. He smiled, it would bring a bit of happiness to the young woman.

Nadir's mind made the easy transition from Meg to her mother. He smiled, a slightly different expression crossing his face. Erik's words were ringing in his ears. "We are not young men anymore…" His thoughts wandered to Meg. He could hardly believe what she had told him…her mother hadn't denied it… How in the world would he ever broach this subject, how would he, or could he even begin to think of himself at a time such as this? Nadir knew of Erik's wishes, that both he and Madame Giry should find happiness. It had been a very long time since either of them had taken comfort in the pleasures of another's affections. For now, Nadir would be entirely pleased to sit and talk with her, to be near her, nothing more. IF it was to be, he would not force nature's hand, he would let it run its due course.

XXXX

The doctor finished examining the man. His pulse had slowed. In part because of the morphine he'd administered for his comfort, and in part because his body was no longer putting up a fight. Though his life's mission had been to preserve life, inside, he hoped for a swift, heaven-sent act of mercy. The man's condition was floundering…he could do no more for him.

The doctor removed the stethoscope from his ears. He looked at the man's wife, whose eyes were searching his face for any shred of hope. She sighed, for there was none. A bitter gloom, nay, the shadow of death, had settled upon the room where the man lay slowly leaving this world for the next.

He stood, wishing to leave this husband and wife alone for what would surely be the last hours of his life. He'd wait outside, at a respectable distance in case he were needed, though he couldn't imagine why. He reached out placing his hand on the woman's shoulder. He nodded as she looked up at him. "I'll be but a door away if you need me." She fought back the swell of tears, barely able to say, "thank you.."

The doctor walked out, silently closing the door to the room. Finding a chair in the hallway, he settled in for the wait. He'd done this so many times, for so many families…but it never got any easier. Especially in a case such as this one, when a man and his family are robbed of his life, in a senseless act of treachery.

He'd be traveling no further tonight, so he slipped his hand inside of his satchel, retrieving a small flask of brandy. He used it medicinally of course, and for comforting grieving widows. But tonight, in the house of a woman of temperance, it would be of no use to anyone but him.

Tipping the silver vessel just slightly, he poured in a bit of the liquid. He sighed. In truth liquor was nothing more than cruel manipulation of one's nervous system. It dulled the senses, giving one temporary leave of their pain. But, as sure as night follows day, it would come back with a vengeance once the affects had left the blood. Though his rational mind understood all of this, his cause and effect mind longed for the relief, if however temporal.

He thought back to the last nights that he'd spent visiting with Raoul, with Meg. He was entirely certain that they would fare without him, though he felt guilty. He'd promised Meg to be there every night. His guilt traveled deeper yet; truly another issue beleaguered his already wearied mind. Would the doctor who treated Meg in that small village have been able to save the man who now lay dying in the next room? He'd never met another physician who'd made him question his own competence…until now.

XXXX

After the dessert dishes were cleared away, Madeline came in with a pot of coffee. Raoul rose to meet her. Taking the silver server from her hand, he leaned down and whispered something in her ear. She smiled up at him, reaching out to touch his forearm. She curtsied slightly, turning she left the room.

Raoul went first to Madame Giry, filling her cup, then to Meg, then to his father. The senior DeChagny was looking daggers at him, though he'd not repeat his performance from earlier in the day. Raoul finished with his own cup, and then returned the pot to the silver service Madeline had placed on the buffet. Raoul found his place once again at the table.

The group was silent as they each took a sip from their cups. All that could be heard was the gentle scraping sound of a china cup reclaiming its home in the indent of its mated saucer.

The group was distracted as they heard a slight rattling at the window. Instinctively, Raoul jumped to his feet, going over to the glass, pushing the curtain aside. He was certain to remain directly in the path of anything that might find its way to Meg. There was nothing there. He leaned down looking outside. Nothing could be seen, the sky was dark, not so much as a star twinkled, and the moon was obscured by a thick blanket of shadowy clouds. In what little light emanated from the house, Raoul could see the shrubbery and yearling trees that had just been planted, swaying heavily in the wind. The window rattled once more, this time a bit longer.

"It appears that a storm is coming," Raoul said as he turned back to the three who had risen from the their chairs and had been inching over to the window out of curiosity. A cold gust of wind broke through the cracks in the window frames. With the storm windows having been removed now that winter was over, the cold air easily made its way inside. "I guess in this case it didn't pay for that early bird to remove the windows so soon." Raoul said, slightly mocking his father's favorite statement.

Raoul glanced over at the fire; he'd have to see to having the staff bring in more firewood, lest the house cool too much for comfort. He turned as he heard a sound coming from the hallway. It was Madeline. She'd no doubt just finished drawing his father's bath, and lighting a fire in his room. He nodded, and she did so in return to acknowledge that she was finished. She turned, now going out to join the others. Celtic music had always been her favorite. Its deep mournful tones beckoned her.

"Father," he said looking at the man who was so obviously tired, and in need of rest. "Your room has been arranged for you."

DeChagny knowing that it meant his bath was readied. "I suppose I shall retire, it has been a long day. I've enjoyed the pleasure of your company for dinner this evening." He went to Madame Giry, reaching out lifting her knuckles to his lips, "Madame." Then turning to Meg, he did the same, "Madelmoiselle." He turned and departed through the doors and on up to his room. He was grateful to be going, and they were grateful to have him go, they could relax.

A broad smile crossed Raoul's face. Meg wondered at it. She glanced over at her mother, she was doing the same. "What is it? The two of you smiling at me…what?" Madame Giry nodded at Raoul.

He extended his arm to Meg, "come, we've something we'd like to show you." He began walking Meg toward the stairs. Madame Giry following just slightly behind. Raoul paused, he smiled back at Madame Giry, extending his other arm, "Madame Giry?" She smiled, coming in to accept. As he escorted them up the stairs he said, "tonight fortune smiles upon me, I've not one, but two wonderful women on my arm!" They all laughed. Meg didn't know for certain, but she had an idea of where they might be going.

XXXX

Nadir's carriage finally turned onto the long path that led straightaway to Raoul's house. Ten minutes…in ten minutes he'd have to think of some way to break it to the stable staff that they would have to shelter, if but for one night, the pine box. With any good fortune at all, he'd be able to bring the box into the stables undetected, having first the opportunity to tell them of it before they saw it. Yes, ten minutes…and he'd get to see her….Madame Giry. He shivered again. The night had grown cold, making him look forward all that much more to the warmth of a fire and good company.

XXXX

Erik and Christine lay awake in each other's arms. She was drawing pictures on his chest with her fingers. He was running his mindlessly through the loose strains of her dark curls. They'd been talking about names. They'd both conceded…one of each they'd decided, at least for the time being they'd be at a truce. They'd pick three of each, listed of course in order of preference. So far, they'd had only two. Gustave, Christoph, Katherine, Sara. They'd toyed with the idea of Meg and Nadir, but the thought of it had only elicited a fit of laughter between the two of them, trying to imagine using those names. "That is at least a beginning, we've months to decide." Christine said smiling up at Erik. She shivered.

"There is indeed a chill in the air isn't there?" Erik said as he drew the blankets up further around Christine's shoulder. They could hear the winds beginning to howl outside. The storm windows were always left on at the winter house, save a few that they removed on the lower floor when they came to clean it once a month during the time that it sat unoccupied during the warmer months.

"My dear, I've retrieved some night clothes for you, if you'd like to…." Erik's voice dropped off. Christine was staring up at him with a pout. Erik laughed, growling just a bit, he slid back down next to her. "My dear, you behave as if we are still on our honeymoon!" He smiled at her. "If you'd prefer, I could retrieve the pot of tea the maid was going to prepare for us." Erik paused, that had been over an hour ago.

Christine smiled at Erik. "And perhaps our dessert?" Christine had left the table before she'd had time to consume hers. Erik leaned down, pecking her on the end of her nose. "And dessert."

Erik rose, putting on once again his nightclothes and smoking jacket. He went to the window with the intention of pulling the drapes in tighter to block out any hint of breeze. He parted the curtains slightly. He turned back, looking over his shoulder, he smiled at Christine. He had the look of a small boy on his face, a boy who'd just taken his first peek at the Christmas tree…. "Christine, come…." Erik held out his hand to her.

She slid from the bed, putting on her robe, padding over on the cold floor to his side. Erik took her hand pulling her into his arms, and then turning her back into his chest. He led her toward the window, moving the curtain as he wrapped his arms protectively around her. His head coming to rest just above her left ear. Christine looked out the window marveling. Erik whispered, "perhaps we are still on our honeymoon."

From the outside, looking into the warm glow, a couple stood in their bedroom on the upper floor of their house. A flickering fire as the backdrop, the window as a frame. There outside, as the chilly winds blew, gusts of snowflakes were falling. A spring snow…sometimes they produced the most curious storms. Unpredictable, uncontrolled, and sometimes unequalled. The ground had only a light dusting. But as they stared up into the sky, they could see that it was progressively increasing.

They were in the warmth of their home, in the warmth of each other's arms, and they'd no other place they needed to be. Since Mother Nature had seen fit to set the mood, they'd relish it, they'd decided. Even if for just this one night, they could pretend, they were indeed still on their honeymoon, for truly, theirs had been cut short.

XXXX

Raoul had made Meg close her eyes, though she knew right where she was. He reached down sliding the key into her hand, and then gently gliding it into the door. "Now my dearest Meg, open it." Raoul whispered into Meg's ear. He turned to smile at Madame Giry. Tears were welling up in her eyes. She turned the key, until she heard the lock unlatch. She opened her eyes, smiling at Raoul, he nodded. She pushed open the door, immediately gasping.

Meg walked slowly into the room, Raoul following her in. Madame Giry stood in the doorway not wanting to diminish the feeling of the moment for the two of them.

Meg had known that he'd replaced the furnishing, or she might have felt faint again. Raoul was smiling at her. The room had been repainted a lovely shade of cream, accented with pale yellow. There were a number of vases of cream-colored roses, from his greenhouse no doubt, giving the room a heady scent. The bed was four posts, and hanging from them were layers and layers of the finest ivory lace, held at the corners with wide golden satin ribbons running down and curling on the sheen of the newly polished hard-wood floor. A new pair of settees was in front of the fireplace, a lovely buttery cream fabric covering them. An ornamental rug woven deeply with ivory roses and heavy vine, lay on the floor. A small wooden table provided a slight separation for the two, only large enough for several dainty china cups and a tea pot.

Meg looked over in the corner, next to the window where she and her mother had stood gazing down at the statue. The one thing that had remained in the room was the large dressing mirror with the crushed stone. Next to it sat a new piece, and it looked like a mate to the original. The most lovely vanity that Meg had ever seen. It too was inlaid with the crushed stone and gems, the oval mirror looking just like a smaller version of the larger one. The chair was made of exquisite tufted velvet, plumped full of the finest feathers. An entirely new set of implements lay on the top, all golden gilded. Several bottles of parfumes, scented lotions and oils lay atop a crystal tray. The light from the candles danced off the angulated cuts of it, glittering like a million diamonds.

Meg's tears overflowed as she walked from one part of the room to the next. She ran her hands along the gleaming edges of the polished wood. Every color, every texture, were what she would have chosen if she had selected the items for herself. She walked over to the bed. There was a small set of stairs leading up to it, the bed itself had been replaced, and now a larger bed, even more sumptuous than the last was in its place. The covers were made of the most lovely embroidered silk Meg had ever laid eyes upon. Its thick brocaded edges seemed to glint in the soft light of the tall, graceful hurricane lamps that lay on either side of it.

All of this was all utterly overwhelming for her. What had once been in the room had been entirely lovely, rich. Yet somehow, it had been outdone by what the room now contained. It felt a bit like what she thought a royal family would have.

One more turn revealed to her, a place she'd no doubt she would spend many hours. There in the corner, on the opposite side of the bed, nestled in, was a most curious piece of furniture. It was a nearly circular shaped couch of sorts, covered in a deep creamy velvet, numerous velvet pillows leaned up against the back of it. It lay just beneath the window that Meg had stared out the night before. In the summer it would be a place she would love to sit as it overlooked a beautiful garden, and as its backdrop the Eastern horizon where she could watch the rising sun.

"Oh Raoul…" Meg said in a breathy tone. She turned scanning the room. Bathed in the light of several regal hurricane lamps, she sighed, the room looked like a fairy tale.

Raoul leaned down, placing a tender kiss on Meg's cheek, brushing away a loose wisp of hair. "A room more fitting you." He said, smiling at her sincerely. He led her by the hand to the doors of the closet. "My dear…" he said.

Meg's heart fluttered. She'd not even thought about the closet, it hadn't even occurred to her that he might change the contents of it. She held her breath as he opened the doors for her. The entire interior of the closet had been changed. Yes there were still mirrors on the opposite wall, but in place of a simple set of poles for garments were four heavily carved armoires. Yet another settee lay at the center of the room so that Meg might dress within the privacy of that room if she liked.

Raoul nodded at Meg as she put her hand on the first of the armoires. She opened the door to find dresses of every shade and color that Meg had ever admired. A pale sage, a lovely saffron yellow, a pale rose, a buttery peach, a silver-hued lilac, a rich cinnamon, a champagne ivory. Each dress a different fabric, some with lace, some with deep ornamentation, some with lovely embroidery. Meg had never had so many lovely things all at once, and perhaps none as expensive or as exquisite as even one of them.

The next armoire was full of silken under garments, night dresses and no less than three evening robes. The third was full of matching shoes, several parasols, shawls, cloaks and the like.

Raoul blushed, the next armoire was delivered at his behest. Meg walked to it opening it she found that it was entirely empty. She paused, turning to look at Raoul. He came up next to her, whispering in her ear. "This one my dear, you shall one day fill yourself…it is for a special dress, and a trousseau. It is my hope that one day you'll have want to fill this."

Meg did feel faint now. She leaned into Raoul, tears streaming down both of their faces. Raoul simply held her. "I am sorry that I'd put you in this room before…even though it had never been occupied or seen, it was a cruel thing that I did. I hope that you can forgive me…"

Meg looked up at Raoul, her mind made up to refuse the apology as it was entirely unnecessary… instead she found herself reaching her hand behind his neck, pulling his head towards hers, gently kissing him.

Madame Giry averted her eyes. She felt a bit like an unintended guest.

Truly the pair were lost in the moment. Raoul reached down slipping his arms around Meg's back as he pulled her to him. All of his doubts washing away in those moments. They would have a long road, Raoul knew it, but he could for the first time, picture the two of them in it.

"Raoul," Meg said, "I didn't mind those other things…but thank you for doing this for me…but how in the world did you ever…we were together the entire time, how could you have known…the cream colored roses, the velvet, the lace? All of my favorite things…." Meg was genuinely curious.

Raoul looked over his shoulder, nodding to Madame Giry. She came into the dressing room where they stood. "I did have a bit of help from an expert on your likes and dislikes…" Raoul said smiling as Madame Giry entered, taking hold of Meg's hand.

"Mother?" A smile crossing Meg's face, "but when did you have time, wherever did you find all of these things…the hurricane lamps, the crystal, the settees?" She looked at her mother.

Madame Giry smiled at Meg and then at Raoul. "I too had a bit of help, Raoul was kind enough to have his sister at my disposal."

Meg smiled. His sister had helped make all of these selections? That was a very good sign…good sign indeed. Meg's face went blank…. "Raoul, but what of all of this once I am well enough to…." Meg immediately felt ashamed for even mentioning it.

Raoul's face turning down slightly. "Meg, we shall cross that bridge when we've come to it..for now….I wanted you to be comfortable, to feel entirely at home here while you recuperate." Raoul leaned down placing a kiss on Meg's nose. In truth, he hoped she would never want to leave…those items would never belong to anyone but her…and wherever she went, if she did not stay there, they would follow.

"Thank you Raoul, thank you…and mother." She leaned over embracing her mother. "Thank you." She whispered in her ear. Madame Giry smiled.

"Now it is not yet time to retire, and I've but one more treat for you." Raoul knew what that would be, the lady fingers...suitable only with a cup of coffee. Perhaps they would retire to the parlor once more while they waited for Nadir. Certainly he would be along anytime now, unless he'd waited until tomorrow.

The trio went out of the room, and descended the stairs as they had gone up, one on each of Raoul's bent arms.

"So that is why you kept me out of that room." Meg said playfully, "spilled wax indeed." Raoul laughed, "now my dear, truly there was spilled wax in the room, thought I dare say not in large enough supply that you couldn't have worked around it." Meg laughed again, it was trickery, playful trickery. She and Raoul had become rather gifted at playing games.

XXXX

Nadir's carriage approached the side of the house. The cold winds had begun to howl. He wondered at the large glow he saw from the back of the house in the direction of the stables. It looked as if the entire back gardens were aflame. His hopes of arriving undetected quickly withered.

Raoul's staff had finished their dinner, and were deciding to retreat indoors to continue their merriment as it had grown unseasonably cold. A damp chill was in the air. "It is entirely unusual to have such weather this late in the season, it does not bode well my friend." They looked up. "Is that snow?" One looked at the other nodding.

Soon all of the staff were standing outside looking at the sky as the winds began to howl, swirls of snowflakes began to fall fast and furiously. "No sir, it does not bode well at all it's an omen I tell you…"

The other man was about to protest when at that precise moment, Nadir's carriage came round the side of the building heading directly toward them, toward the carriage house.

The first maid gasped, she had spotted it. A hush fell over the group as they looked at the pine box beneath the carriage. It might as well have been driven by the headless horseman from the dark fairy tale….its mere approach and presence sent an eerie wave of apprehension through all who gazed upon it.

In the swirling snow, the blowing wind, the opening of the carriage door caused yet another layer to the growing trepidation. Nadir stepped out of the carriage, his cloak fluttering ominously behind him in the gale, as he took in the terror he saw in their eyes.

He knew what was on their minds without asking. They thought he'd brought this omen upon them by bringing this box to rest in their stables. They'd not greeted him, simply looked at him with apprehension and loathing.

Nadir turned, Meg's package tucked under his cloak, and walked toward the house. There was nothing for him to say. The carriage rattled off slowly toward the last stall of the carriage house. The entertainers were already removing their items from the carriage house dining hall. The festivities were over now….most decidedly over.

XXXX

"Doctor!" The woman called out for him. He rose to his feet quickly opening the door and rushing to the woman's side. "He's trying to say something…" she looked at him pleadingly…it was the end, she knew it…his hands had already begun to grow cold.

The doctor leaned down closely trying to listen. In a low guttural tone he could hear what would be the man's last words… "he said Raoul was next…he was next…." And he breathed his last.

**Author's Notes:**

**Dear Faithfuls**: In the days that this was written, it was unseasonably cold where I am. There was indeed a nip in the air and my morning walks required a jacket be worn. Depending on where you hale from, this chapter might provide relief from the heat, or, a forward look at the impending fall. Either way, I hope no one felt chilled to the bone. The next chapters might require a cup of hot cocoa! Don't say I didn't warn you!

**Lireil-eris**: It was very nice to hear from you. I must say I am a bit like a doting mother that waits up for her children when they're out past curfew! I worry. Oh yes, coffee, tea, and me. I know most people are usually staunch devotees of one beverage or the other, but for me, I could not decide. I fully appreciate, and religiously indulge myself in both beverages. In fact, as I sit here now I have both a cup of hazelnut brew, and a glass of iced jasmine tea sitting at my side! I do believe I have a split personality! Iced mocha's, latte's cappuccinos…most decidedly a wonderful treat. I'm certain that Erik and Christine would have loved them as much as we do….too bad they didn't have a Starbucks or shaved ice back then! LOL But they did have some things we don't have so much any more. Choclatiers really were there, not just Godovia, and not just for special occasions. It was very much a part of their lives…the simple pleasures. This world is far too fast and demanding for most of to slow down and enjoy those things for more than a minute and then we are off and running again. Perhaps that is why this period of history is so fascinating to me!

I smiled today when I read that you are part Russian. Just last evening I was dining with friends at a Russian restaurant "The St.Petersberg". Our waiter was a handsome chap, actually from Russia. I had the most wonderful poached dill salmon (his suggestion), and of course no visit to a Russian restaurant would be complete without a cup of borscht! Then a most curious Russian dessert, long stemmed cherries, marinated in brandy, chilled, dipped in chocolate, and served with a shot of cherry infused vodka! It was all very Russian! The white linen tables, the heavily carved chairs, the use of gold and cobalt blue in the décor and plates and glasses, all very Russian. I loved every minute of it! Yes, I rather look forward to my trip to Europe. We've yet to decide the length, I suppose it will depend on how many countries we try to take in. I've no doubt it will be at least 14 days, perhaps a few more. I am a bit afraid, that I shan't want to come home! I always have a grieving process when I leave a country that I fall in love with!

Yes, our dear Christine. I think it gives us some insight into her character. Though in many ways she's so "grown up", she still has the irrational side at times. She'd been excited about becoming pregnant, not even thinking about the delivery…sometimes when we are young we focus so much on the temporary acquisition of something, that we forget to think about the outcomes, the long term affect on our lives…this is the case with Christine….not that she could really have prevented the pregnancy though…. Yes, childbirth in those days was dangerous for both mother and child. Delivery methods were primitive and often unassisted…if a mother couldn't deliver on her own, she often died trying. But let us do remember that this young woman is being tended by a gifted, forward thinking physician! So, things may be much brighter for her than most!

I'm happy to hear you share my thoughts on Leroux…I think he, just like several other great authors such as Edgar Allen Poe, was a tormented soul. Too bad we never really knew of the woman who jilted him that caused such a story to be born in his mind….ahh….that would be an interesting story indeed…the thoughts inside the head of an author that causes them to write what they do…..hmmm. I'll have to think about that one a bit more.

Hope you enjoyed the part about Meg FINALLY getting to see her room. So much had to happen there, it took several days for them to finish it!

**ElvieIII**: I admit I am always flattered when someone tells me that this is their favorite fanfic… I only wish I had a way to express my gratitude because mere words do not do justice to how that makes my heart soar! This has been a wonderful thing for me to be able to do…I feel so alive…and it warms my heart to know that others are enjoying it too! bows humbly

Ahh, do not worry. I may have plenty of mischievous bones in my body, but not one cruel one! I hate it, and I use that word with all of its intended force, when you are reading a story, or watching a movie that you are very much enjoying and then it ends abruptly and you are left wondering what in the world happened. I think if they can't finish it, they shouldn't start it…but…that's just me! So much of life doesn't provide resolution, no definitive answers…why in the world should we have to tolerate that in our entertainment when the authors are quite capable of finishing their work properly? O.K., now I've ranted and raved, and I will be quiet. All that to say, that shan't be me!

Raoul a ponce? Well, yes, perhaps he is trying to put Christine out of his life…but let us keep in mind he believes she is dead…or never coming back which is as good as dead. Inside he has the pressure from his father to produce an heir, and he really does care for Meg. Perhaps he's going a bit overboard trying to show her he is ready to move on. Though it does seem a bit premature…I think he is trying to make sure that THIS ONE does not get away! It is hard to tell what he will do when or if he finds out about Christine…that truly would be a test wouldn't it?

**DancingDragon42**: Thank you for the compliment on the chapter. I rather enjoyed that one myself! I could just see DeChagny eyeing Meg's every move to see how she handled herself, and if she was "worthy" of Raoul's affections. Madame Giry must have been very proud of her daughter, and very thankful that she'd spent all that time training her daughter in their little dorm room at the Opera House. Sometimes a mother does things for her children preparing them for a future she hopes they will have. Other people might think her to be crazy, but in moments such as this, when social manners matter so much, it makes all of the work worth it!

Yes, the babies…I can hardly wait to see them myself!

**ChristineluvsErik**: LOL! What was for dessert indeed! By now you already know! Yes, the romantic side of me will not be silenced…just when I think it has…well…it hasn't. In this case, I think dessert was the best course of all! Oh my…I'm just realizing now that you probably meant at Raoul's….and I was thinking about the cake for Erik and Christine….I am truly blushing…. O.K., at Raoul's….the glorious apple pies that Madeline had been baking! She topped them with fresh whipped cream with grated vanilla bean, and a glorious drizzle of creamy caramel that dripped down the sides, clinging to each exposed slice of apple and flaky crust, pooling on the bottom of the plate, reflecting the eyes of the beholder as they eagerly searched for their forks….yikes…I think I need dessert! See…it's that autumn thing again…I'm getting so ready for my trip to the orchard, and the ensuing rash of baking with apples and cinnamon that follow shortly thereafter!

MeowLeFae: It is wonderful to hear from you! I do worry about my faithfuls when our little Phamily hasn't heard from them! I couldn't agree more…cranberry relish is a delight…we make ours with the crushed cranberries, celery, toasted and chopped pecans, a bit of grated orange peel, sugar…yes, it is a treat indeed…no fowl is properly dressed without it! I laughed when I read your analogy of the trim waistlines! Yes, meals were a long drawn-out process then. The portions were not huge, but great emphasis, especially in Europe at among the elite, was put on relishing a fine meal, and sometimes it was an all-evening event. They would have bristled at the idea of "fast-food". Food was meant to be savored, enjoyed, celebrated. So, perhaps they had it right, and we have it wrong…they enjoyed their meals…most of cannot even remember what we ate the day before! Just an observation!

Loved the line about Geico…I have a friend who pulls that one out of the hat every once in awhile. She makes up a somewhat plausible scenario about some awful thing that happened to her, only to end it with that line…but I just saved a ton on my insurance by switching to Geico! I want to ring her little neck! Here I'm trying to be empathetic and I've just been dupped! She loves it!

Yes, work can often be a zoo. Most of us can picture just who you mean as you named each creature…a few faces come to mind for me right now!

**Tex110**: Thank you for the compliment on the chapter. I am glad you are enjoying the story thus far. Yes, the altitude in Colorado is a bit high for me as well. One of the last times I was there, a friend had brought his car along, a new high-performance car no less, and he had all sorts of trouble just because of that very thing! I must say that the first days we were there it was a bit of a chore walking. I remember the day we went to Seven Falls, I thought I was going to croak! I used the abundant supply of chipmunks in the area as an excuse to go slow…I had to stop and feed them of course!

**Crayann**: Good to hear from you! I understand completely…we all get very busy. I am always happy to hear that our Phamily members are keeping up with the story even if they don't have time to review. I smiled, and blushed, as I read your note. If I do get this published, I've quite a little signing to do…and of course, my Phamily would come first!

When you talk about New Jersey…ah yes, it reminds me of the wonderful autumn I spent in New England, I dare say a while back now. It was entirely wonderful! We spent time in Pennsylvania, New Jersey, upstate New York, Vermont, New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Connecticut, Maine, Delaware, West Virginia…then up into Canada. It will live in my mind as one of my most favorite autumns! That part of the United States is so absolutely wonderful, especially that time of year…it is at its pinnacle of beauty then. Have you ever heard of Shelburne Farms (Vermont), or The Mount Washington Inn? They are two places I actually dream about. Sitting in the library of a Vanderbilt mansion late at night in front of the same hearth they sat in front of…it was like walking among ghosts… I could go on and on about New England…but I shan't. If you live there…you already know the feeling…

**PhantomFan13**: Meg was reacting, not thinking. When she made a dash for the carriage house, it was simply impulse. She'd no idea that all of her stuff was stored out there, she just happened upon it. Her guilt is driving her to do things that are entirely irrational. She couldn't even explain to herself why she'd run there! She was panicked about being discovered. Inside she feels this turmoil. She has this terrible secret she is hiding from Raoul, actually, several secrets, and now she feels she's further betrayed him because she'd promised him the other night that she'd not go outside unaccompanied….and where is that she finds herself? Just where she'd promised him she wouldn't be! So, it is all leading up to what is sure to be a difficult time when Meg can no longer take her guilt…..

Yes, I have spent quite a little time on Raoul and Meg…it is all part of the plan my dear. You cannot really care about a character that you barely know…and their developing relationship is important to the ultimate culmination of the story…there is a struggle there that has to be learned, explained, for it will make the ending that much more understandable, plausible…. I am happy to hear that you will remain faithful to the end….as shall I! I do apologize that my responses are sometimes very brief. Depending on the number of reviews, and my time of course, they can be rather short. I never want anyone to feel slighted and therefore try to give everyone a little something! Hope you enjoyed this chapter…


	118. Come Let Me Show You

**Chapter 118 Come Let Me Show You**

Erik went to down to retrieve the pot of tea. The maid poured out the now tepid water, replacing it with hot, and a fresh tea-ball. Erik placed several slices of the cake on two plates. He was accustomed to serving himself, and tonight, he needed to do this for Christine. Though he was the master of his house and could do as he pleased, the maid wondered at his actions. There had been a great many things that they'd admired about the man, even before they really knew him. Now, he was changing all the rules that had been held sacred by staff of service for centuries.

In a few moments time, he found himself once again on his way up the stairs, silver tray in hand, the teacups clattering against their saucers as he went. As he passed the hall window, he glanced outside. The sky was full of fluffy white matter falling from the heavens like tiny feathers dropped from the wings of angels. It was no longer a mischievous snow…there would be a substantial blanket on the ground by dawn, Erik thought to himself. At least, it being the winter house, they'd have everything they needed should it come to pass. He wondered if the snow would travel as far as Courtland Manor. There was little there but a skeleton crew, just enough to care for the animals, and the other things that needed tending. He smiled to himself. They'd gotten along all these years without him, surely they could manage now.

He leveraged open the door with his knee. Christine was kneeling by the fireplace, carefully putting on a few more of the small logs that the maid had brought in.

"Christine, I shall do that for you, you should not be…" Christine turned, giving Erik a raised eyebrow and a knowing look. "Yes, I am quite afraid you are going to need to grow accustomed to being taken care of my dear." Erik said, sitting down the tray and coming to kneel next to her, taking the log out of her hand. He used the poker to push the smoldering wood about in the fireplace to ensure it would kindle properly.

Christine had tied the white robe loosely about her waist. As she sat there in front of the fireplace, watching Erik reposition the tinder, the robe shifted slightly exposing her collarbone and one shoulder. Erik smiled at her, reaching down and running his index finger along the length of the bone that ran from her shoulder to the center of her neck. Christine smiled at him, leaning over to place a kiss on his lips. Erik lovingly slipped the robe back up to cover her shoulder….he didn't want her getting a chill.

"Erik, there are things that I can still do myself. If you start now treating me as a lame ewe, I shan't know how to care for myself or our children. The time will come soon enough when I'll need you to put on my stockings, rub my back, and all manner of things that I shan't be able to do myself. Do not weary yourself of your labors just yet."

Erik smiled at her. Christine did not want to be coddled. He understood, perhaps better than anyone. "I know my dear, but please, do not deny me the chance to take care of my family." She smiled at him, knowing full well that her protestations would do little to discourage his dotting and fiercely protective behavior.

"Now come my dear, let us have our tea." Erik said reaching out and taking Christine by the hand. He led her over to the bed. "But Erik…" Christine quieted as Erik brought the tray to rest next to her on the bed, and then carefully climbed in. She'd never eaten in bed in her life, well, with the exception of tea and toast when she was very ill.

Erik poured a half-cup of tea for each of them, lest they spill. Christine smiled at him as he handed her a napkin, and dessert plate. "Thank you Erik. I fear that your son…" Christine smiled, she could no longer use those words, they'd agreed. Erik flashed her a knowing look, this time it was he that had the arched brow. She corrected herself, "I fear that your children have a sweet tooth…that is what I seem to want whenever I do find myself hungry."

Erik smiled at her, leaning over extending his fork to her. It was laden with a bite of cake. Christine smiled, accepting it. Then having put the first forkful of cake into his own mouth, he mumbled. "Then we shall have to…" he took a sip of his tea, "have to see to having fruit here for you." Erik smiled. Though he'd indulge Christine with whatever her heart desired, he would look after her health as well. For that is the only way he knew of to keep that which she feared the most from coming to pass.

They took turns feeding one another bits of cake, taking time to daintily wipe up any frosting that went astray, unintentionally or otherwise. They laughed as the last bite of cake disappeared but a few fragmented morsels. Erik reached down pressing his forefinger into a bit of frosting and then into the crumbs. He leaned over slipping it in between Christine's lips, following it with a tender kiss. "The last bit of sweets for my sweet," he said smiling at her. Christine, in turn did the same.

As Christine withdrew her finger from his lips, Erik, took the plate from her lap, and laid it on the table where he'd already deposited his own, without ever breaking their gaze. He slid closer to Christine, taking her up into his arms. He began gently placing kisses on her cheek, her forehead, her jaw. "Christine…..Christine….Christine…"

She laughed nearly breathlessly, "my dearest Erik," she took his face into her hands, looking him passionately in the eye, "I love you." He returned her stare with equal intensity. He replied as he kissed her tenderly, "I know that you do…" It was the first time that he'd admitted out loud that he knew beyond all else, that she loved him. She was nearly ready to weep for the sheer beauty of his words, when he scooped her up into his arms. Before she could take a breath Erik was out of the bed, Christine in his strong arms. The room was warming just slightly now. She'd no idea where he was going, or what he was doing, but she had little care in the world, as long as she was in his arms, everything was as it should be.

Erik moved over to the window, pushing the curtain aside with his elbow. He stood with Christine in his arms looking out at the falling snow. The lanterns from the front of the house, and the distant ones from the stables behind, gave the falling snow a hint of light, just enough that the flakes from this vantage point, looked more like diamonds as they fell to earth to join the others who'd already formed a soft glistening white blanket for them to rest upon.

"It does rather look like our wedding night, doesn't it?" Christine said, placing a soft kiss on Erik's neck. He smiled turning his head down just slightly to return her affections. "Yes, it does. Perhaps snow will always remind us of that night."

Christine smiled, running her hand up around the curve of his jaw. "Then I should say winter shall always be a most happy season for us…a constant reminder of…." She was far too embarrassed to say it, though Erik knew instinctively what she meant.

"I believe it shall." There were so many times that Erik had been thankful for her. So many times that he marveled at her beauty, her kindness, her goodness. But in the moments when they were alone, as they were now, she filled his soul.

Erik let the curtain drop from his hand. As he turned back toward the inner part of the room, he began to hum. Christine closed her eyes, resting her cheek against his chest, she could feel the vibration within his body. She'd discovered this simple pleasure on their wedding night when he carried her back through the caverns to what would be their marriage bed. In this moment he was never more masculine, more attractive to her. She quickly let her eyes open again. The room was aglow in the soft light of the fire, she would be making a new memory. She no longer had to emblazon his voice in her mind, for fear she shan't hear it again. It…along with the man…would be at her side. Christine smiled, reaching up again to touch Erik's cheek. "I do so love it when you sing."

Erik caught Christine's not so subtle pleading. He smiled as he began to sing softly to her, "I have brought you, that our passions may fuse and merge, in your mind you've already succumbed to me, dropped all defenses completely succumbed to me, now you are here with me, no second thoughts, you've decided, decided." Erik leaned down kissing Christine on the forehead. She sighed. How the meaning of that song had changed over time.

"That song, that night…" Christine uttered, as Erik began to dance slowly, methodically, with her in his arms. "Your music moved me Erik, the power…the beauty…you knew what our love could be…even before it was."

Erik felt a painful smile cross his face. It was hard to describe…to put into words…the feeling…when something you've longed for…wanted…needed…was finally yours. The word JOY even seemed to be lacking to describe it. He'd written that song, a final act of desperation to tell her how he loved her, that he knew they belonged together…that there were warm and unspoken secrets that were yet to be shared between them. Even though he held her in his arms now, the thought of the alternative made his heart ache. In that fateful moment, Christine quite literally held his heart in her hands.

"It was your strength in those moments that allowed all that has followed to come to pass my dear." Erik said, kissing her on her temple. "If you'd not had the courage to believe…" Erik's voice caught in his throat.

Christine slid her hand from where it had been on the center of his chest, up behind his neck. She gently turned his face down so that he looked into her eyes. "Erik, even before we were one….we were as one. My strength was a mirror image of your strength. I could not have been brave in those moments, strong in those moments without the years of devoted love that you'd given me." She glanced away, and then back at him. "That is why you shouldn't wonder how I came to love you, for truly, it is you who loved me…. until I could see it for myself. Without you, there is no me. You were my split-apart, the other half that made me whole. There was no denying that two parts had sailed through time and space to find one another. Only the hand of God could keep us apart. Your strength gave birth to my strength. Your love, to my love." She smiled running her hand along her stomach. "And now, I can return that love to you, our love…" Christine put her hand along side his cheek rubbing it lovingly…longingly.

Erik's eyes overflowed, watching the honesty with which Christine spoke in those moments as he held her in his arms. "Our love will give birth to your children that I now am privileged to carry. They will be a living testament to what pure love and devotion can be if nurtured."

Erik drew her further into his arms, putting her face against his neck. Oh how he loved this woman, she was all he had ever needed. No riches, no matter how vast on the face of the earth, could have filled the void in his soul the way that Christine had. He spun her around in the room, as she began to laugh, two souls delighting in one another's presence.

"Come," Erik said, alighting Christine to her feet, "I've something to show you." Christine smiled, taking his hand. She would follow him anywhere.

XXXX

Raoul was the first to hear the back door open and close. "Perhaps the staff have decided to retreat from the cold." Raoul said as he leaned over looking down the hallway. Then he stood. "Nadir?"

Nadir was coming down the hall shaking his cloak. Raoul went down to greet him. "Why ever are you coming in that entrance, we'd have received you…" his voice grew quiet as he looked at Nadir's cloak. "Is that snow?"

Nadir quickly acknowledging him, "why yes it is, there is a mighty storm brewing out there Raoul. I don't recall seeing such a spring storm as the one that now rakes its havoc outside these walls."

Madame Giry hadn't realized it, but she'd been tucking her hair behind her ears, reaching out to make certain there were no strays. Straightening her dress, running her finger under each eye. Meg watched out of the corner of her eyes, she'd say nothing.

Raoul took Nadir's cloak, revealing the carefully wrapped boxes he carried in his arm. Nadir walked into the parlor, going to Meg, "this is for you my dear…from your aunt and uncle. They wished me to convey their regrets, that they'd not be up to visiting you, but they wished you well." Nadir smiled, nodding slightly as Meg took the gift from his hands.

Her skin tingled with anticipation at the thought that she was touching something that Christine had laid her hands on…oh how she missed her, truly, truly missed her! Her eyes began to well. Without warning, she began to cry.

Raoul rushed to her side, "whatever is it Meg?" he was holding her hand trying to lift her chin with his other. Normally Meg would have welcomed his affections, but she felt herself pulling away. Deep inside Raoul felt a twinge of inadequacy. This was the first time she'd not leaned on him since he'd come to her rescue at the winter house.

Meg looked pleadingly at her mother. Madame Giry quickly made her way over to her daughter. "Gentlemen, if you'd kindly excuse us," she said sitting down next to Meg, taking her hand in hers. Meg turned to her mother and leaned into her shoulder as she began to sob.

Raoul's face was blank. Madame Giry could see the pain in his eyes. Nadir glanced at Madame Giry, they'd not even had a chance to greet one another, and though he longed to be with her, he knew what she needed most now, was a few moments alone with Meg.

Nadir looked at Raoul and nodded his head toward the door. Raoul hesitated, half hoping Meg would call out for him, but when he saw how heavily she leaned on her mother, he knew he would not be needed. He swallowed hard, tears welling in his own eyes. He looked at Nadir as they made there way to the door, closing it behind them.

Madame Giry waited until she could hear their footsteps travel down the hall to the other end. She looked down at Meg who'd buried her head in the folds of her dress. "Meg, whatever is it my dear, we are quite alone, and I am certain that if we speak in low tones, we can speak frankly."

Meg raised her head. Even if she could unburden herself, she could only do so in part, as there was so much her mother could not yet know. Her thoughts wandered to the two little bottles that lay tucked in the recesses of the chair on the other side of the room. Perhaps a long conversation with her mother, and one little gray tablet would calm her. Though she knew deep inside, guilt could never be gotten rid of without confession….it would sit in her mind like a jagged splinter in a festering wound. Yes, she could visit it and tend to it, but truly until it was removed, it would never heal.

"Mother," she said in a strained voice through the sobs she was just starting to stifle. "How can I accept all of this," she tried to speak lower, her tongue swollen from crying making it difficult. "How can I accept this from Raoul…with the deception…this very package…" Meg pointed to the boxes that lay at her side unopened. "This package was no doubt wrapped by the woman he was engaged to…he believes her to be dead….or he would never….he would never…." She began to cry again, leaning back into her mother's arms.

Madame Giry understood, though she could offer her daughter little comfort. She'd not resolved it in her own mind, so however would she be able to help her daughter find peace? They sat just holding each other. The day had been full of such joy. So many wonderful things had been done for them by the DeChagny family, as of late. There was no real choice in the matter any more.

In order to live one life, they'd have to abandon the other… How would one choose? For if they did not, the torment would drive Meg insane. Christine…Erik…they would have to be dead to her…or she would never find peace…never be able to go on with Raoul.

Madame Giry rubbed Meg's back. "I do not know my dear…I know only that no matter what we choose, we need to be sure…certain we could live in this world without the other."

Meg's shoulders shook. The weeping made the stitches in her cheek ache. No doubt the flesh was engorged from tears and emotions that were being forced through her. She held her hand up to her cheek. "Mother, Raoul…he loves me…in spite of this flaw…he loves me. He has done so much for me…and yet…even now, I withhold from him, that which his soul must still wrestle with, though he doesn't speak of it anymore." She looked pleadingly at her mother.

"My dear, I shan't know what to tell you…let us sleep on it. We can do nothing of it tonight." She lifted Meg's chin. "Now, you should open your gift."

Meg looked at it both longingly and with distain. It only perpetuated the lie, and drove deeper her guilt, but inside, she longed for whatever Christine had sent for her. The turmoil, she knew, would one day be her undoing.

Madame Giry handed Meg the package. She smiled as she untied the beautiful ribbon, carefully folding it. She'd find somewhere special in her room….her room….to put it, for it was far too beautiful to be discarded. The paper came off easily, an envelope dropped to the ground. Madame Giry leaned over to retrieve it for her. Meg sat the packages down, pulling the envelope open she read the note that Christine had tucked in for her.

_My dearest Meg,_

_I was greatly grieved to learn of your tragedy. Surely it is a sad thing that someone would do such a horrid thing to another human being. I rest in the assurance of Nadir that you are receiving the finest of care. He believes you will make a full and speedy recovery. Nadir also shares that your mother's quarters are nearing completion at the Opera House. While we shall miss you and your mother greatly, we are deeply aware that this is where your future lies. Nadir will be traveling between our two cities a number of times in the coming months. Perhaps we can stay in touch through him if he will agree to be our courier. Though Stephan is growing stronger each day, I fear he is no longer himself. He will never be the man he once was, though I think his demeanor has improved. As I near the end of my illness, I shall want to call for you Meg, for truly I do not think I could get through it without you. I've no want to separate you from your new life, but at the end I will need you._

_I sincerely think of you by day, pray for you by night, and find my fondest company in the thoughts of your affection. Do take care of yourself, and your mother my dearest Meg. Until we meet again._

_Love, Elizabeth._

Tears welled in her eyes. "Until we meet again…" Meg said under her breath. That is what she and Christine always said to one another whenever they were parted, or when they went to sleep at night. They'd pretend to be long lost friends who'd let each other go as their knights swept them off to kingdoms distant from one another. How odd Meg thought…that what they played at as children…could now be coming true.

Meg turned to her mother. "What does she mean, nearing the end of her illness, she is well isn't she?" Madame Giry had nearly hoped that Christine would have shared her joyous news somehow in the content of her letter, for now, she'd no alternative than to lie to Meg. "I am not entirely certain my dear…perhaps she is trying to find a way, make a way for you to visit, that will raise little question."

The answer satisfied her. Madame Giry felt guilty. Of course Christine would need her friend, need HER, when she neared the end of her pregnancy. Though Madame Giry was entirely certain that Erik would take good care of her in their absence.

Meg smiled, the note had indeed made her feel better. Perhaps she could write a more detailed, less cryptic letter to Christine for the when next Nadir would return. She'd so much to tell her, though some of it would be very hard.

Madame Giry smiled, handing Meg the first box. A pale daffodil silk scarf, with a small hand written note "To go with your beautiful blonde hair." Meg smiled, laying it in her lap, and then thinking better of it, she slid it up around her hair affixing it with a bow on the top. The second box, a delectable quad of chocolate truffles, with yet another note. "To keep you sweet." The third box, Meg smiled, she could tell by the weight of it what it might be. She parted the tissue paper exposing a bundled set of sheet of the finest parchment. This note said "Let your words not die within your mind. Let them take flight and find their home with me." Meg smiled. How clever Christine had been.

She took note that the last package was wrapped in slightly different paper, but had been tucked inside the box with the others. Carefully Meg removed the wrapper. It was a book, 'Iliad'. Meg wondered at it. She'd always loved Homer's work, but this was a most unusual selection for Christine she thought. It was a beautiful leather bound volume.

Madame Giry was busily folding the wrapping paper that Meg had removed. Meg thumbed through the book. There in the center, was a small parchment envelope. Scrawled on it was a note. "For Meg alone." She scowled. That was odd she thought, but she quickly closed the book. That was not Christine's handwriting.

Madame Giry took the book from her hand looking at the cover. Meg's heart pounded. "'The 'Iliad'," she laughed. No doubt someone else selected this for you my dear!" She reached out tapping Meg on the nose lightly. "Now, what say you that we collect your things and take them up to your room. You'll be needing a chance to get a closer look at all the things in there. I dare say Raoul's sister was quite busy. There are items in there that I don't even recall!"

Madame Giry offered to carry the gifts for her as they left the parlor. Meg was willing to let her carry everything…except the book.. She'd have to find a reason to send her mother away, if but for a few brief minutes, so that she could read the note…no doubt Erik had something to tell her that he'd not wanted anyone else to know. She also needed the opportunity to retrieve that which she'd tucked in next to her corset. It would find its way into the fireplace that very night. She'd not hide it again…it was far too risky, and she was far too weary to keep track of it.

XXXX

Nadir and Raoul sat in the library sipping on a brandy. Nadir had used his sage wisdom to allay Raoul's fears. "Women simply cannot be fully understood." Nadir said rubbing his chin. "They are a mystery to most of us…perhaps that is why we love them as we do!" Nadir laughed. Raoul agreed, though none-the-less he'd felt separated from Meg. Just when he thought she'd begun to need him the most.

The door to the library opened, "ah, yes it is you my friend!" Nadir rose to shake DeChagny's hand. "I'd expected you at the Opera House mid-afternoon." He said walking over to pour himself a nightcap.

"You look rather comfortable father." Raoul interjected. He was surveying his father's thick and formal robe and his crested slippers. "I've just had my bath son, did you expect that I'd return to full dress before bed?" Raoul just smirked at him. "And did anyone notice it is snowing outside?" Raoul and Nadir just nodded their heads. "And really, this time of year? Just when I thought Spring had finally come for good."

DeChagny settled himself into one of the dark leather chairs beside the fireplace. . They were just like the ones he had in his own study. He'd given them to Raoul as a gift, and in truth, he'd probably made more use of them on his visits than Raoul ever had! He'd had half a mind to retrieve that special bottle of brandy he'd brought with him from Paris, but Raoul and Nadir already had a glass in hand, and he'd not insult his son's offering by bringing out a better bottle. It could be saved for another time, when they had more of it to spend together.

"Now, do tell us Nadir, did you take care of all that you needed to? That poor woman delivered to the undertaker?" He and Raoul both looked at Nadir.

Nadir swallowed hard. "In truth, I'd been delayed in retrieving her, and then, on the road, we'd been delayed a number of times, hansoms and other carriage drivers stopping to inquire what they'd each seen, and to relay the most current information on that Crawlings character."

DeChagny's head snapped sideways to look at Nadir. "Did you saw Crawlings?" Nadir nodded. He wondered at the expression on his face. "Surely you'd heard of it?"

DeChagny replied sardonically, "I can assure you good sir, if I had, I would not now find myself in a position of needing to inquire." Nadir looked at Raoul. It seemed as though all of Paris knew, how could this have escaped his father's attention?

Nadir felt compelled to explain. "Three innkeepers were shot, two dead already, the third likely shan't make it through the night. They say it was the Crawlings boy. He'd come to retrieve the carriage he'd been hiding. When met with some resistance, he decided the only way out was through the men. Exactly what happened no one really knows. They are hoping that the third man regains consciousness so that they might ask him."

DeChagny felt sick to the core. If he'd only been more insistent with the officer, sent a contingent out looking for him...done anything different, perhaps those innkeepers would still be alive this very night. He pressed his eyes tightly shut, swallowed hard, and blinked. It was but another thing in his life that he'd have to surpress or it would eat him alive.

He was unusually quiet. "Father?" Raoul said. DeChagny went to the decanter and poured himself a second nightcap. He walked over to the window gazing outside toward the carriage house. The extra carriages and wagon had departed. Their tracks were now entirely obscured by an ever-thickening blanket of snow. His eyes traveled to the only other place in the carriage house, save the few in the bed chambers above, that contained light. There, on the far end he could see a group of people huddled around a carriage. He turned to Nadir, a sincere seriousness on his face, "she is in there….isn't she?"

Nadir felt awful, but admitting to it was all he could do. "Yes, I'm quite afraid she is."

Raoul's face went ashen. Though he'd no superstition himself, he knew it abounded among his staff, especially in the carriage house. DeChagny turned away from the window, letting the curtain drop from his hand. Nadir looked at Raoul who was a bit unsettled. "Do not worry, I shall see to it that she's taken there at first morning light. I'm quite afraid that Perdue did not answer his door when I paid a call this evening."

Both Raoul and his father bristled. "What did you say?" Raoul said to Nadir. Before Nadir had chance to respond, Raoul continued, "pray do tell me that you'd not went down LeMortom Street at this hour?" Raoul looked as though he'd be sick. "Not at night?"

Nadir knew of the many legends, the many stories, for truly London, Paris, and many of the other great cities of Europe, had a litany of tales attached. For Paris, LeMortum Street held great significance. A great many a murders had happened not far from there, bodies dragged and deposited behind the row of buildings. The street was not one anyone would visit but for one purpose…to put behind them the dead. Though for all the purported treachery, it paled in comparison to what he and Erik had been witness to…truly…THOSE were things that legends were made of.

Nadir nodded. "I'd not wanted to bring her here Raoul. I'd had no choice in the matter, I stopped there first."

Nadir looked down at the ground. The only thing worse than having a body in one's carriage house, was having one that had already visited LeMortum Street, been rejected, and traveled beyond it. It was like bringing back the dead…and none wanted any part of it. The men stood looking at one another. There was little to be done now except wait until the morrow to take Sara back into Paris. For tonight, she would be but another day away from being laid to rest along side her husband.

Raoul's head hurt. Not so much from the physical pains, but the mental strains of the day. It had contained so much happiness. So much fear. So much worry. Far too much of everything but the peace and quiet he'd hoped it would. He'd run the gambit of emotions, and now he simply felt at odds. He could sense that his father and Nadir would prefer to enjoy one another's company. He being old enough to know when his presence was not needed, and young enough to know he'd not likely be able to contribute much to their conversations.

"Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me. I've a few things to check on." Raoul walked toward the door. Looking back at the two men who'd walked over to the decanter and were refilling their glasses. "As you wish son." His father said, not even turning to look at him.

Though he longed to talk to Nadir, at this moment, he'd decided, that he'd much prefer the company of Madame Giry and Meg, than to listen to his father further regale stories of hunting and the like. The women in his life could always get his mind off of that which he did not wish to dwell upon.

He went back to the parlor, only to find it abandoned. He glanced up the staircase. They must have grown curious and gone back up to Meg's room. Raoul smiled. At least there was one happy place in the house this night.

Raoul glanced out the beveled heavy pains of the front door. What pale light came from the moon, glimmered off the snow. It was an odd thing…Sara in his stables, the unexpected chill in the air, the spring storm. It had a sense of foreboding about it. He shook his head, and mounted the stairs.

**Author's Notes**:

**Dear Faithfuls**: Everyone might know someone who was touched directly or indirectly by Hurricane Katrina. Please take a few minutes today to think of them, and something you can do to help. There is an area radio station in my area that is doing a large relief dive collecting clean supplies and personal care items. If every one of us did only one thing, and then in turn helped someone else to do one thing, just think of the good that can be accomplished! No kind deed goes unrewarded, even if we never see the reward!

**Captain Oblivious**: Yes, one can never tell who will be next in the saga. Murderous families terrorized people often for decades if they had a vendetta against someone. Hopefully, in this case it won't take that long to rectify the situation!

So, is your RA named Chris, or is that your fish? Yes, fishy is probably looking around for his pals…poor little fishy. Yes, if it's a beta fish, they do go crazy and then go quiet. For fun, if you put a little mirror next to his bowl, he will feel like he has company. Again, if he's a beta, he'll try to figure out how to get to the "other" fish…laughing will ensue! Hope school is going well, and that you are getting all of your homework done!

**Diveprincess**: NO, no…Raoul is not dead, in danger apparently, but certainly not dead! Yikes…that scared even me! Stay tuned….the adventure is about to begin! Hope school is going well, and that your legs haven't slowed you down too much so far!

**Poetzproblem**: Thank you. I tried to imagine what the room actually looked like. Unless one is an interior decorator, it is hard to get too deep into finishes, textures, etc., so hopefully I didn't go too crazy on that part! Yes, Christine and Erik are continuing on their honeymoon, after all, they did get short changed a little don't you think? At least they are wise enough to realize it is never too late to recapture a feeling! LOL Oh, and yes, Meg is having a few blonde moments as you call them. Really they are stress induced idiosyncratic episodes, but who am I to mince words! She is under a considerable amount of stress, and doesn't have Christine's inner strength, so it is very hard for her. You are right, in trying to spare Meg the stress of knowing that Crawlings is out there somewhere, he is actually making it worse on her because she feels she is betraying him…if she knew what was going on, she might think twice which would make it easier on her in the end. Oh my…that was complicated! Anyway, hope you liked this chapter. It's a bit longer than some of the others, but I just didn't know when to quit!

**ChristineluvErik**: LOL, you liked the pie description? Well, I have to tell you I ended up hurting myself over that one…I have not been eating sugar for a very long while, but after that description for you, I had apple pie on the brain and finally had to break down and have a piece on Saturday night…and oh…it was worth every bite! I try to save my sugar for my chocolate fetish, but this weekend, the pie won out! Oh, and I apologize, the dessert thing is likely more clear to you know with chapter 118…and yes, I'd take that frosting anytime! LOL.

**Phantomsrogue:** Thank you for the compliments. The dying man is the third innkeeper that was shot when Crawlings went to steal his carriage. He is the one innkeeper that the doctor that was to be visiting Meg, was tending to and that is why he couldn't come to see her. O.K. I agree, more fluff would be good, and I dare say this chapter provided a little more of that wouldn't you say? With Halloween fast approaching as you said, I think it would be fun to go out dressed as Christine! I think if I go anywhere on Halloween, I'm going to have to put blinders on…if I see someone dressed like the Phantom, it could be really baddddd! OH MY. LOL

Now, I want you to know that my heart goes out to you and your family. It is my prayer that you have not been directly affected by any of the storms that have hit so many of the people in the southern US. We will keep you in our prayers, and hope to hear from you soon!

**ChristinelovesPhantom**: Yes, chocolate. I had an apple pie fling over the weekend that took the place of my chocolate fix…but it was a nice diversion! Sorry about the disappointing lunch. It's hard when you go back to see friends sometimes. Things just aren't the same. I guess that is why we have to live in the moment and enjoy everything that is going on in the present, because we just never know what sweet memory we are making! You are welcome for the updates…and thank you…for the reviews!

**ElvieIII**: Your heart turned to butterflies! Awwww…you made me get all weepy! Yes, I too wish I could have Christine's life…to be loved like that, and to love a man like that…well, let's just say I can hear the bells of heaven ringing! LOL Thank you, sincerely thank you….for the compliments regarding the story. I never know quite what to say when reviews are so very kind. I love hearing from all of you, it keeps me pumped to keep writing for our little Phamily! The answer to your question will they ever visit the Opera House…I would say….that isn't out of the question! (pardon the pun) You just never know where the story might lead!

**Icherisherik**: First, I want to say that you and your family are in our prayers. There are so many affected by all that is happening in that region, and it is simply devastating. I hope that this review finds you well and safe…and maybe provides a bit of a distraction for all that is going on around you. Yes, much is happening in this story, and a storm is brewing for them! Take care of yourself!

**Phantomfan13**: Interesting that you share the same opinion with some of our other Phamily members…no one wants to see Erik and Christine go through any more trauma right now…we've all become rather protective of our little newlyweds! In answer to your two guesses regarding the title of the chapter, both of them are true! LOL! Now you'll have to read on to see why!

I'm glad to hear that you are spreading your POTO addiction. If you haven't heard Kelly Clarkson's new song 'Addicted', you need to get it….it so describes what we are all going through with POTO right now!

**Phantomlover05**: The sick guy is the third innkeeper that was shot by Crawlings when he went to get his carriage. The other two died, and this is the one that Meg's doctor was trying to save. Don't worry, it will make sense in the end.


	119. Winter's Sweet Revenge

Chapter 119 Winter's Sweet Revenge 

Erik led Christine down the stairs and into the library. He smiled as he brought her into the room, the maid had kindled the fire in the fireplace as he'd requested. Erik led Christine over to the heavily blanketed bench near the window, depositing her there with a delicate brush of his lips to her forehead. There was one thing in the room that had remained covered at his request….until tonight.

He walked over touching the canvas, looking back over his shoulder at Christine…he wanted so very much to show her that he loved her, appreciated her, as the woman that she was, the woman she'd become. Mere words could not convey all that he felt in his heart for this woman. It was in his music that his power, his feelings, his passions spoke much louder than any words ever could. He walked back to Christine, leaning down he placed a tender kiss on her cheek.

"My wedding gift my love. I'd intended to give it to you once we arrived at Courtland Manor…" he averted his eyes briefly. So much had happened there, how their honeymoon period had been delayed…. He began again, "but that was not meant to be. So as this is our first night alone in our own house, it seems fitting…the snow has visited us taking us back in time…Carpe Tempus!"

Erik's smoldering eyes rested in Christine's. There was something about the tilt of his head, the way he held his shoulders, his long lean frame dressed in that dark smoking jacket…he was utterly entrancing, he was an Adonis. His words bathed her ears with what a young bride could only hope to hear from her lover. She'd never found him more hansom.

"It seems but yesterday that we exchanged our vows before your father's grave. Deep within my heart still burns for you. We are here tonight, and though a storm rages outside…I find solace in your presence. I need you as one needs air in their lungs…you are the purest truth in my life. You understand me like no other. You met me in my loneliness...when no one would listen, you heard as the outcast hears. You are for my heart and my soul a sanctuary. And though I promised to love you forever, and I shall, I want you to know that I love you in the here and now, in this moment, in these moments as our life is just beginning."

Christine was looking up at Erik her lips trembling. He still moved her, had always moved her, would always move her in a way that was like a warming waft of heated air on the coldest winter night. Entreating her to the farthest depths of her soul.

Erik lifted her hand, kissing her knuckles lovingly. The warmth of his breath on her flesh sending a shudder up her spine. He leaned over her shoulder, gently pushing aside the curtains from the window behind her.

Christine smiled as she looked out to see the heavenly sight of the world being covered in a brilliant blanket of white…there was something calming, reassuring, and entirely romantic about being in that room alone with her husband, in the quiet of their house, on a late winter night.

Erik reached down and slipped his arms under her shoulders, giving her a loving yet restrained embrace. He would not let his desires run away with him…this was about her…about his loving her with his heart, with his mind, with his soul….his flesh would have its turn.

Erik returned to the canvas, pulling it gently from the object beneath, letting it flutter to the floor. Thus revealing the most exquisite piano that Christine had ever laid eyes on. It was elaborately carved and intricately detailed. Cherubs and angels, and every other manner of heavenly hosts sculpted into the wood. It was polished to a brilliant sheen.

"Erik…" Christine gasped. He smiled at her as he lifted the lid revealing the ivory. He'd tell her the story of the piano another time. Positioning himself on the bench, he inhaled and put his fingers just above the keys. His eyes both closed. It hadn't been since the night that he'd had Christine in the caverns when he'd first revealed himself to her that he'd actually sat at a piano to play for her.

Among the many things that Christine had uncovered while he slept, she'd not found one of his most treasured compositions….and that was his love song for her…that one…he'd never been able to put on parchment. It was quite simply too deep, too personal…it resided in his heart and mind alone.

He drew in a breath. He'd rehearsed it in his mind, a hundred times, nay perhaps a thousand, but now she was here, she was his, and she carried his child in her womb…something about it seemed surreal…and he knew…he would never forget this moment as long as he lived.

He glanced over once more at Christine, silently mouthing the words "I love you…" though he'd no need to whisper it. Christine smiled at him, "please play for me…"

Erik's heart felt as if it would burst for joy…even his greatest imaginings of this dream did not compare to actually living it. Now it would become reality. His memories real memories. That alone was worth living for.

Erik closed his eyes, allowing his fingers to drop and caress the cool ivory…he began to play. The song was gentle, slow, sweetly reminiscent of something but Christine could not say what. It was Erik's music, no doubt in its tones…but….yes… he'd carefully interwoven some of the music that Christine had so come to love from her favorite Russian composer…ah…it was 'Romanze' by Tchaikovsky…she knew it instinctively.

Erik smiled at her. Her recognition of the music adding a full measure to his savoring in her pleasure.

Slowly the song moved, becoming a bit darker, a bit more of the intensity with which he'd written Don Juan. It had a pull that could not be described…it lured you…tempted you…beckoned you. Erik's eyes were tightly closed as if the music was transcending the time and place they were in. He'd repeated the first of the song a second time, as if to set the stage for words. He inhaled slightly, making Christine do the same…he was going to sing….sing just for her…

XXXX

The doctor sat back on his heels, as the woman came to rest, weeping over her husband. She was gasping, clawing at his clothes, running her hands through his hair, lifting his head, placing a gentle kiss on his parted lips. She threw her body over his torso, wailing. The doctor stood and quietly left the room. She needed time.

Once in the hallway again, he walked to the end and descended the single flight of stairs that led to the servant's kitchens. "Good sir, we shall be needing that box now." He nodded at the man who sat at the long table in front of the fire talking with another.

The pair were on their feet. They'd brought the box along with them at the doctor's behest. "It shall take me an hour or so to prepare him." The doctor looked at his watch, it was quarter past ten; far too late to pay a call on the undertaker.

"We will make the preparations and at first morning light, we shall…" The one man was shaking his head from side to side. "What is it?" The doctor said, already weary from being up all night the evening previous.

"Have you looked outside good sir?" The doctor hadn't and he couldn't imagine what the problem would be. "Do go ahead and have a look for yourself…I shan't think we'll be going much of anywhere at first light.."

The doctor sighed disgustedly walking past the pair of them pushing the curtain aside. The doctor's eyes grew wide. The snow was already half-way up the door on the house across the street. He looked up at the falling snow, and it showed no signs of stopping.

He sighed. He'd needed to get to Raoul's, to warn them….tell them what the man had said…but now…it looked liked he'd be doing nothing of the sort…he'd not even be getting home tonight.

"Blast…" he muttered under his breath. "Very well, do see to it that the box is brought up in a hour or so." The doctor turned to look at the maid who'd been up with them nearly the whole night. "Do see to it that these men have somewhere to sleep for the evening won't you?" She nodded, it had already been prepared.

He walked to the window once more looking out. The only comfort he took in the storm is that if it slowed them, it would certainly slow Crawlings….unless he'd already made his way there. If that be the case, the doctor thought to himself…there was little he could have done before. He could only pray that he hadn't.

He turned back to the maid before he returned to the upper floor. "Do bring several basins of water and soap…and a goodly bunch of towels that you shan't need returned."

XXXX

The city of Chausser had all but gone to sleep. There had been a last flurry of business at the mercantile as the townsfolk prepared to hunker down. They had watched as the sky grew dark, and the winds grew cold. The older residents had seen it before, but not for a great many years. It harkened back to the winter that seemed to go on without end…that year it had snowed nearly every week until May finally brought about enough warmth to cause the moisture to descend as rain instead of snow. It had been unseasonably warm these past weeks, and all thought Spring had arrived a bit prematurely, but Mother Nature always had the upper hand, and she would bow to no one.

Tonight the taverns were full. By the looks of the streets outside, if one did not live within the village, they would certainly have to take in the comfort of the inns, or at the home of a friend. No wagons nor beasts would be found out in this weather.

Sebastian and Pyotr sat quietly at a small table for two in the corner of the tavern. They'd had their fill of ale, and now sat with nearly empty mugs in hand. "I heard he restocked his house at the mercantile, arriving on Sunday no less, a carriage at the back filled to the rim." Sebastian took another sip from his now sickly-warm mug.

Pyotr nodded. "It certainly does not improve our situation Sebastian. We'll have no place to store our goods if they stay much longer." Sebastian put his finger to his lips.

"Pyotr we must be careful." Pyotr nodded, "you are right." "And his companion his comrade, what do you make of him?" Sebastian inquired.

Pyotr replied, "a bit guarded, and decidedly loyal. He's our best link to the man's intentions, we'll have to see to finding him again."

Sebastian nodded. "There's no doubt he's a man of means, and a private one at that. This could perhaps be more of an opportunity than one would think at first blush." Sebastian said.

"Just what do you have in mind now Sebastian." Pyotr said with a raised brow.

They sat just looking around the room. They'd spent much time in Chausser, and rumors as to their unsavory dealings abounded. Though no one really knew what the men did to earn their keep, they'd always paid their debts, seemed to keep to themselves, and were always well groomed and polite. It was all the more unsettling for the citizen's of Chausser, for they did not like, nor take kindly to that which they did not know.

Pyotr did not like the glances that they garnered. He knew full well he and Sebastian were not well received, and truly he preferred something a bit more private. "Come Sebastian, let us go in for a late supper before the kitchen closes."

Sebastian tipped his mug, the first swallow convincing him to abandon the remainder. The pair walked from the tavern out the door into the howling winds. They'd sup at another inn, one whose guests were less inquisitive. He knew just the place.

XXXXX

Nicole had unlatched the door before the dinner hour so that her grandmother might enjoy the evening with her family. The storm outside was all the deterent the woman would need tonight for surely she'd not be foolish enough to go out into the howling storm.

She'd been sent home early, her employer would call for her again if she were needed. The staff who were there now would be staying the night as it was too far for them to travel back home in this weather. Nicole was but a few doors away if it were called for.

She sat with her mother by the fire. Her mother had taken out her knitting needles and sat rocking in the chair. Her grandmother simply sat rocking, staring down into the fire. She took such pity on the woman…she always seemed to have an inner torment that would not go away. How very sad it was to be a prisoner of one's mind, so much so that one must be held nearly as a prisoner in the flesh.

Nicole was reading from her book. Though the night grew late it was as if no one wanted to retire, the storm almost commanded an audience to check on its progress from time to time. They'd simply pushed back the curtain from the window as if it were a production that they could watch by the light of the fire.

Nicole's grandmother slowly came to a stop and lifted herself from the chair. Both her daughter and granddaughter stood to help her, but she waived them off. She was making her way toward the cupboard. Though they were a family of simple means, there was one luxury that she'd always insisted on, and they'd not denied her that one pleasure.

She stood at the cupboard, withdrawing three small crystal glasses. Her shaky hand reaching inside the cupboard grasping a long-necked bottle of Chambord. It was a sweet, deep red raspberry liquor, most decidedly an acquired taste. Normally it was reserved for holidays, or special occasions. She thought tonight was as good an occasion as any. This would be a storm that they'd be remembering when they were old women themselves. One must have at least one in their lifetime. She'd been fortunate for two.

Her daughter cocked her head just slightly in wonder of it. "Mother, do you know what day it is?" She'd feared her mother's faculties had further lapsed and she'd forgotten even the time of year. Understandable with the snow falling outside.

As she poured the three glasses half-way, she said. "I haven't seen a snow this time of year since I was a young woman. That spring was the oddest spring…." Her voice trailed off. That had been the spring he'd gone missing…the boy. She shook her head. She'd not speak of it again. She knew they thought her to be quite mad. Returning the stout brown bottle to the cupboard, she pushed the door closed. Carefully, she attempted to lift the glasses to carry them to the other room.

Nicole was quickly on her feet assisting her grandmother. She smiled at her as she took the glasses from her. She handed one to her mother, sitting the other two down she assisted her grandmother back into the rocker. She smiled again handing her the glass.

The grandmother smiled as Nicole tucked the blankets around the sides of her chair. "Yes it had been an odd winter that year..it snowed every week until May…"

Her mother and Nicole smiled at one another. Tonight grandmother would share a story, something she'd not done in a long while. It made them happy to see her eyes twinkle, in those moments, she'd come back to them, sharp as a tack. Those moments were precious few these last years, and they savored each one whenever it graced them.

"Yes I remember it well. The storms that year were like this one. Strange, unpredictable, insatiable. So many folks went missing in those blizzards…." Her voice cracked. This would be difficult…but she'd leave out the worst part…the boy.

XXXXX

Madame Giry had gone with Meg into her room, taking her into the dressing closet to select a night garment. She'd put the gifts Christine had sent for her on the dressing table. "Perhaps you can wear the daffodil dress tomorrow, so you can make use of this lovely gift." Madame Giry said as she ran her hand along the silken scarf.

Meg simply mumbled in assent. Her mind wandered to the note, to the bottles downstairs, to the pages tucked neatly next to her corset. Before she changed, she needed to take care of the latter two things. Madame Giry was busying herself with the nightdress that Meg had selected.

"Mother, if you do not mind at all, I should like very much to wait to change until we've toured the room a bit. Perhaps you can tell me of the things that are here. Madame Giry smiled. "Of course my dear." She took Meg by the hand and walked back out into the bedroom proper. It amazed even her, it didn't look like the same room at all.

Madame Giry gave her a once-around, "the settees are from Valdimar's, the rug I believe is from Persia…no doubt Nadir would know. The bed is from a local craftsman, he makes beds for royalty my dear! The window dressings are from…." Her mother continued to speak, and Meg followed her around the room though she in truth paid little attention to what her mother was saying. It wasn't that she was not grateful, nor impressed. She was busily devising a plan, a plan to..

There was a knock at the door. Meg thinking it to be Madeline with a pot of tea, said, "do come in, the door is unlatched."

Raoul peeked his head inside. "May I?" Madame Giry went to the door, opening it for Raoul. "By all means." She said.

"Meg, are you becoming acquainted with your new surroundings?" Raoul said as he walked into the room. Meg blushed. She'd push aside her guilt for the time being. She needed to properly express her gratitude.

"I'm quite overwhelmed by it Raoul, your generosity…" Raoul stepped forward putting his finger gently over her lips. Madame Giry smiled, glancing down at the floor.

"Perhaps I'll check on…" thinking of no good reason to excuse herself from the room she simply said, "Meg, I'll be back in a half hour or so to assist you to bed."

Meg reached out taking her mother's hand. "Thank you…" The two women smiled at one another. "It was my pleasure." Said her mother as she left the room, nodding at Raoul, closing the door behind her.

Meg wanted to implore him to forgive her for her sudden outburst earlier. As she turned, Raoul embraced her, kissing her tenderly on the lips, as he ran his arms down around her waist. Meg nearly melted into his arms. His affections were unexpected, but not unwelcome.

Raoul pulled slightly away to look into Meg's eyes. "Meg, do not worry about tonight. I know this must be entirely overwhelming for you. This past week has been eventful for us all…so much has happened. Tonight, I saw the look in your eyes.."

Meg's eye began to tear. "It is a hard decision that you and your mother make now. You shan't be seeing Elizabeth and Stephan for some time to come…and the gifts. No doubt they triggered the emotions that overtook you. The last time you were with them, you were safe, you were happy, and you'd no idea what would come to pass."

Meg looked at Raoul with such wonder. Though he knew not even half of the truth, he knew the struggle she was going through. No one had ever taken the time to get to know her that well, and it humbled her. "Raoul I.."

He lifted his finger yet again to her lips. "Meg, before you say what you have to, please know that I love you, that I will be here for you…no matter what you decide. That which surrounds you now is but window dressing for a life we could share. But I've no want to rush you, only to comfort you. I do not want you to feel beholden to me because of this. Though it is all very pleasant, and I must say your mother has impeccable taste, it is simply things…and one cannot be loved by things…but by flesh alone. We shall take this one step at a time. Meg, you'll want to be certain of what you want before you make your decision."

Meg smiled at Raoul, leaning forward to place a kiss on his chin. Meg tilted her head toward his, her eyes staring into his. Raoul smiled. Inside his heart swelled. She'd not left him…she did love him…he could feel it. He leaned down pulling her once more into his arms. In the beauty of that room the pair stood in a tender embrace. The snow was falling just outside….the room that Raoul had prepared for her. It was Meg's room now…and no one else's. All ghosts were gone as surely as if they had been exorcised.

XXXXX

Deep in the woods a boy sat huddled inside his carriage. The winds had made it impossible to keep a fire kindled, and though he'd managed to get off of the road to a good hiding place, it hardly provided the wind shelter that one required to set up a proper camp. The horses were under the only protective branches of the lone pine that stood in the clump of trees. They came first, for without them he'd have little hope of taking his carriage anywhere once the storm passed.

He nibbled on a bit of the food stuffs that the innkeepers had packed for him. He wondered at why he felt no guilt, no remorse, eating a dead-man's food, but he did not. He felt hollow.

His entire life had been surrounded by blood, by vengeance. He'd not had the maniac glee that his brother described when he prevailed. His butchery was pointed, precise, and without passion. In that way, he'd been once removed from the generation previous…it was is if he had no soul. No soul that could be soiled by the workings of his hands, the rantings of his mind. Only an unsatisified appetite for retribution, and he'd no idea how many he'd have to take before that feeling would die within him, if it ever would. He shook his head. It was of no matter. He'd not have to ponder it. He knew what he needed to do, and he was after all the last one standing now…it was his duty.

XXXXX

Madame Giry had made her way down to her room. She went inside, turning up the lamp that Madeline had lit for her. She walked over to the fire, warming her hands. It felt like Christmas Eve to her, though it was nearly as far from it as one could be. Her daughter was happily in the other room, with a would-be suitor…a better one than Madame Giry could even have hoped for. She'd been lavished with gifts. They'd had a wonderful dinner, and the snow was falling outside. She was entirely sure that Christine was happy and safe, though so very far away. Nothing was settled, but there was a sense of happiness about the night. She wandered over to the window glancing around the split in the curtains. The snow was rapidly accumulating, which would make things difficult for those who needed to travel, but tonight, she decided, to marvel at its beauty, for truly happiness was all about the perspective of the mind…one could find happiness anywhere….in the simplest of pleasures if one looked for it…even the sheen of the moon as it danced across a delicate blanket of snow.

Her mind wandered to Nadir. She'd felt guilty for sending him away without so much as a proper greeting, but the situation had necessitated it. She would be happy to see him just once before she retired though she didn't know if she would. She wanted to ask about Christine, about Erik, the arrangements for Sara. Raoul had already come upstairs and Nadir had not, which likely meant DeChagny was in the library with him now, and that could be an all-night affair.

She sighed as she turned from the window. She'd make herself ready for bed, perhaps crawl in with the book Erik had bestowed upon her. That alternative seemed right to her. She'd give Meg and Raoul a bit more time. Surely they'd have much to talk about. Meg'd guilt had given her such fits. But Madame Giry knew, that in Raoul's presence, Meg was happier, calmer, and more at ease than she was with anyone, and that was just what she was needing now.

XXXX

The carriage house was anything but calm, an alternate universe to what was going on inside the house proper. The men were ranting at the carriage driver.

"BUT I HAD MY ORDERS good sirs, what was I to do, drop her along the wayside and retrieve her the next day?"

The men were mumbling. Though they realized he'd little choice or control in the matter, their bitter diatriabes were directed at him for lack of a more suitable object. "It shan't be good I say, it shan't be good…no good can come of it.." one man mumbled incessantly.

"Oh do bite your tongue old man!" The stable master said as he walked in the middle of the huddle. "Just what is going on here?" He went to stand next to the carriage driver who'd obviously been circled by the others.

"Monsieur, he's brought a us a fine present is all." One of the stable hands said sarcastically. "We've no room for it sir." Said yet another. The men began to grumble amongst themselves.

"Now see here," the stable master taking on an authoritative tone. "There's no need to get up in arms over this. We'd all expect the same show of respect if it were our family member now wouldn't we?" The group fell silent. "This man," he put his hand on the carriage driver's shoulder, "did his job. He'd not questioned his rider's intent, not insulted him with tales of curses and omens…" he was mocking their superstitions.

The stable master began walking among the men who all now stood silently. "He'd done what was bid him, there's no fault in that. He'd no sooner be able to control the situation than we can control the fact that this box will be with us, and I'd dare say for a day or two by the looks of things." He gave a nod toward the rapidly accelerating snow.

"We'll make the best of it, and any man who give this man so much as a hair of trouble for fulfilling the obligations of his duties, will have me to answer to." The stable master patted the carriage driver on the shoulder.

"Now off to your quarters, all of you, there's no more to see or do here. Get your rest, for on the morrow, we'll be needing to remove all this snow if were to make any sort of path for carriages."

The men scattered. Not so much as one little word was uttered, nor gesture was made. The stable master was a fair man, but a stern one. When he said that they would have him to deal with, they knew he meant it.

He watched as the stall cleared. He nodded toward the carriage driver. "Come, let's give this box a rest shall we?"

The two men unlashed the box from the underside of the carriage. The strain on the wheels and the axels from riding wet and heavy easing just slightly under the relief of its burden. They sat the box off to the side, covering it with several horse blankets.

"Sad thing really," he said to the carriage driver as they walked out of the stable turning down the lamp, "when your time comes and you've to travel so far before finding your final rest."

The room was dark, and Sara was alone. "Come, what say you we have a sherry before we retire." The carriage driver nodded. He was relieved to have been rescued, and pleased that at least someone acknowledged he'd had no other choice…he'd only done what had been bid him.

**Author's Notes:**

**Captainoblivious**: Yes, it would be decidedly better for Meg if everything were out in the open, but as with real life, nothing is quite that simple. It's rather handling a piece of broken glass…just when you think you've figured out how to handle it, it slips and slices you clean through!

Well, if "Chris" ever gets lonely, you can get him a couple of little neon fish at the pet store, they seem to do well with betas. Oh, one could be named Meg, and the other of course….Erik! You could be the first in your dorm to have a POTO aquarium!

**PhantomsRogue**: Thank you for the mini-update, and your suggestions to make sure that people are using reputable sources for their donations…there are so many unsavory people out there that would take advantage of this situation…truly sad.

I too work for the government and we've been doing what we can in our area to support those that have been misplaced by the hurricane. It is sad that they've had to leave behind the only life they've known and move to states far from where they grew up. We can only hope that one day they'll be able to return to a restored home, no matter what city they've traveled from.

I am looking forward to the relationship between Erik and Christine. So much has happened, and so much is in the wings for this young couple. Yes, in our little Phamily, we are a diverse group. Some are still in high school, some are in college, and yet others of us are out in the working world and beyond. One thing we all have in common is for good to triumph and for everyone to find happiness….that's why we're all here! Don't worry about babies and the like. Getting college out of the way, and working are very important. There is always time to have a family.

**Phantomlover05**: You are welcome for the explanation…that part did get a little confusing! Hope everything is going well for you!

**Poetzproblem**: Glad you let me off the hook on the long chapters, it seems I've done it yet again! I am excited to think of what Erik might have had to say to Meg that he didn't want anyone else to know. I guess time will tell. Now all she needs is a little alone time to get back to that book. With everyone milling about all the time, it might be a little difficult to do. But you know Meg, she'll find a way!

**Tex110**: Yes, good for both of them…and I dare say…good for this author's heart…sigh….


	120. Love Song

Chapter 120 Love Song 

Madame Giry drew out her nightdress and thickest robe. The room was warm, but she knew the halls would be less so when she traveled down to Meg's later. She'd changed out of her garments without assistance, no doubt Madeline was busy tending to Raoul's father and Nadir. She slid her feet into her slippers, and her arms into her robe, tying the belt tightly around her waist.

She was sitting at the vanity in the room brushing her hair, humming softly to herself. She thought she heard something behind her, she turned but she saw nothing…at least not at first. She shook her head, it was likely her imagination. She turned back toward the mirror carefully brushing through it, 98, 99, 100. The final stroke giving relief to her arms. She went about braiding the long strands, and then she heard it again.

She stood and walked in the direction of the sound. It seemed to be coming in from the small hall that connected her room to Nadir's. Hesitantly, she reached her hand toward the doorknob. She heard it again, the door in front of her rattled just slightly. She swallowed feeling a cold rush along her ankles. She put her hand on the door knob and slowly opened the door. Looking the three feet to the other door, she could see it was ajar just slightly. The breeze from the room on the other side causing the door to move back and forth.

Madame Giry smiled, reaching out for the other handle. She'd intended to pull the door shut, but her curiosity got the best of her. Quietly she pushed on the door, peeking in. She saw no one. The room was decidedly colder than hers though a fire was lit in the hearth. Madame Giry glanced over at the window on the opposite side of the room, it too was slightly ajar. Madame Giry thought that perhaps in the maid's haste, she'd forgotten to re-latch the window after lighting the fire. Madame Giry sighed, she'd not want Nadir to retire to a chilled room. She walked in ever so quietly and across the room reaching for the window latch, she pulled it closed and put the lever in its pocket.

"Madame Giry?" She spun on her heels, her heart in her throat. "Nadir!" she exclaimed. "I am terribly sorry, there was a rattling noise, and a breeze from under the doors in our hall…I didn't want your room to be cold when you retired, so I'd come in to close it for you."

Nadir was closing the door behind him. He smiled at her, "that's terribly thoughtful of you." Inside he could think of no finer thing than to have found just what he was looking for in the comfort and quietness of his room. She nodded at him, she'd have smiled if she hadn't been so taken by surprise, or embarrassed to be found in a man's room unaccompanied.

Nadir walked toward her motioning for her to sit in one of the chairs by the fire. "My good sir, I'm quite afraid that I shan't I'm in my robe and…"

Nadir looked at Madame Giry. "My good woman, in all the times we've shared hours sitting in front of a fire waiting for our dearest friend to wake, we never cared about what was or wasn't proper. We are friends, with much to catch up on, do stay."

Madame Giry felt awkward, but decided Nadir was right. There was much to talk about, and this was as private a place as they could have found anywhere. She settled in the chair across from Nadir. "I'd rather thought you'd be enjoying a brandy with DeChagny." Madame Giry said looking at him.

"Indeed I was, until the man fell asleep! We were mid conversation when he started to droop his head. It took but a moment's silence and he was snoring. I tossed a blanket over him, took the glass from his hand and decided to retire myself. It has been a dreadfully long day." Nadir said sighing.

"Then perhaps I should.." she began. "NO, no…this is a fitting end to the day, I cannot say I'd enjoy anything more than to sit and have a warm conversation with you by the fire."

Madame Giry felt a blush come over her face, and was at once relieved that the room was dark, and the glow from the fire would mask any crimson that might be filling her cheeks. "Nor can I," she replied.

XXXXX

Raoul and Meg were perched on the window seat looking out at the falling snow. "There's something whimsical about it isn't there?" Raoul said leaning down to put a kiss on Meg's forehead.

"Hmmm yes, there is." Meg said. She had become so relaxed she'd nearly forgotten about the note, the pages, the pills. But she hadn't entirely, she'd simply chosen the moment over the need. Now, as the night grew long she realized her mother must have fallen asleep, and likely the rest of the house was asleep too. Raoul showed no signs of wanting to leave. All she really needed was a few minutes, just a few to take care of those things, then she'd be content to stay up with him all night just as they had before if he were so inclined. "Raoul? Would you mind terribly if we had a bit of tea?"

Raoul sat up from his semi-reclined position, "by all means, I shall retrieve it…"

Meg smiled, "I am feeling quite alright now, if you'd like I could certainly take care of this.." secretly she hoped he would say yes, and she could take care of at least the pills anyway.

"Nonsense, I'll take care of it. No doubt Madeline has a pot of water on even now. She is always prepared." Raoul stood making his way toward the door. He was feeling a bit sleepy now, having relaxed a bit.

"Raoul," Meg said as she glanced out the window, "I do hope the doctor did not get caught in this snow, I should worry for him if he'd tried to come here on my account.

"Oh, Meg, the doctor informed my staff that he'd not be able to come tonight, he's been detained in Paris. He sends his regrets, with the assurances that he shall be here on the morrow. Well, considering the snow, perhaps the day after." Raoul smiled at her. He hoped she'd not ask for more detail Thankfully she did not. "I'll be but a few minutes my dear, rest…"

Meg padded quietly to the door and listened as Raoul made his way down the stairs. She'd have but a few minutes, but she would be quick and light on her feet. Once the pills were in her room, she would breathe a bit easier. The other things could be taken care of in her room.

Meg looked from side to side before she entered the hall. She'd take the front stairs, it was closest to the parlor and as she'd heard Raoul use the servants stairs at the back of the house so the front was safest. Meg quickly found herself on the first floor, walking through the dark hallway across the entryway into the parlor. She looked for some little glimmer of light from the dying embers in the fireplace. She made her way to the chair and retrieved the bottles, and put them firmly in her hand under the folds of her dress.

She turned and as quickly as she'd entered the room she was closing the door finding herself in the hall. She could hear Raoul in the kitchen pouring the hot water into the tea pot and then the familiar hiss as he dropped the tea ball in. Down the hall further yet, Meg could hear his father, he was snoring. She smirked. If DeChagny knew he did such a thing, he'd be horrified…for snoring was not considered refined!

Meg made her way up the stairs and back into her room. She went to the small table that was next to her bed, pulling open the drawer and putting the bottles inside. She didn't know if she'd have need for them again but she felt better just having them there in case she did.

Now, she turned her attentions to the note in the book. She went to her wardrobe and retrieved the book. She carefully slipped the envelope out, returning the book to its spot. She flipped the envelope over and over. Should she open it now, or should she put it somewhere unopened? The latter won out…she couldn't be discovered by Raoul reading a hand-written note from Erik. That she tucked under her pillow, she'd read it before she went to bed.

Now, the last thing. She reached in next to her corset and she could not feel it. Perhaps it had shifted a bit. She ran her hand all the way around her corset, and inside her corset. Then the horror set in…perhaps she'd lost it on the floor below when she'd just gone down…or perhaps earlier when she was outside…no…not outside? Underneath all of that snow. She sighed, at least there it would not be exposed in any way. But if lay on the floor downstairs, for anyone to see…she had to check.

She was once again back in the hall, closing her door just slightly. She was at the top of the stairs when she heard the tinking of china cups on the back staircase. Meg scrambled toward her room, diving into it nearly leaping onto the settee. She didn't know if it was her exertions or her trepidation of being caught that caused her heart to race. Either way, she'd need to calm herself before Raoul made his way back into the room.

XXX

Pyotr and Sebastian had settled upon the Danbury Inn. It was nothing auspicious, but it was comfortable, and decidedly more private. They'd been seated for dinner, as their rooms were readied upstairs.

"What now, do tell me, what is it that you have in mind." Pyotr leaned over to Sebastian. "The house being occupied now will throw off all suspicion that there might have been anything going on there." He smiled. The other man huffed, "yes, and how does this diversion improve our situation? We've still no where to store our goods now."

The one man smiled devilishly, "it would seem a bit tricky wouldn't it. But, not far from the house is yet another abandoned farm. You know the one, it has the two smaller buildings behind the house. Of course it is not as convenient, but it would suffice." Pyotr nodded, still it made no sense to him.

"Don't you see, it is perfect. We can store our goods at the old farm house, conducting business with our associates as though we were still located at that house." Sebastian shook his head, it was not terribly complicated.

"Think of it this way Pyotr, if indeed someone had thought they'd figured us out, as we'd suspected last year, they won't be able to find any proof, nor find any goods! They could search the house, the grounds, and yet find nothing. This could be just enough to allow us one last season in Chausser before we have to move on."

"Ahh," now it was coming to him, they would use that man's house as a decoy for their business. "You are a clever man, no really a clever man. I'd thought we were all but completely finished in Chauesser, but I can see your plan just might work."

"Thank you, now, can we see to dinner, I'm famished!"

XXXX

Nicole smiled, her mother and her grandmother were both sound asleep in front of the fire. It had been a pleasant evening. Her grandmother seemed so lucid, so clear tonight, it was like having the grandmother she remembered as a child back again if only for one night.

Nicole collected the glasses, turning the lamps down low. She'd covered them both with an additional blanket, and put another log in the fireplace. That would keep them warm until morning.

She'd go down to the tavern just to see if there was anything that they needed help with before she retired for the night herself. She bundled up well. She looked back at the two women who comprised the lot of her family now. She wondered if she was destined now to take care of them for the rest of their lives, perhaps never marrying herself. She loved them, and would do it if that is what was meant to happen, but she was sad.

She'd watched how much that young couple who'd been scared by her grandmother loved each other, and it made her heart ache for someone of her own to love.

She closed the door, going down the stairs to the street. The wind was fierce, the snow nearly blinding. It was but a few doors down, though it seemed to take forever to walk the short distance.

Once at the tavern Nicole nearly fell in the door as the man opened and closed the door for her. She could see now how the stories her grandmother had told her that very night could be true. That year, people had frozen to death in the streets, having been blinded and disoriented in the swirling snows. She shuddered, perhaps her grandmother wasn't as crazy as she'd thought.

"Oh thank heavens you are here Nicole, we've so much to do. We've the remainder of these guests to serve, and then we've need to make preparations for feeding an extra dozen or so for breakfast, and bedding and rooms for ten more." Nicole nodded, that's why she'd come. She'd spent her life serving people, and had a sense for when she was needed.

XXXX

Christine held her breath, Erik paused and began to sing. It had returned to the music that he'd sung to her the first night they met. The words were in French, the music hitting each note with such precision, such eloquence. Erik's voice was incredibly masculine, incredibly strong, incredibly intense, and entirely full of the love that she felt emanating from him. It was at once, both soothing and stimulating to hear him sing...she'd never grow tired of his captivating voice. Though she'd only been able to understand a few of the words, she had understood the meaning, it was like fluid poetry that by-passed the mind, speaking directly to the heart.

Erik paused, looking at Christine. His heart was beating heavily, his brow full of sweat. He'd revealed the deepest longings of his heart to Christine, he felt as vulnerable as he'd ever in his life, but she was a safe harbor. He'd sung it in the language he'd written it in, for him that was the purest version. But now, he'd sing it in a language she could understand. He began again.

In the beginning there was darkness, an endless night,

A boy on a distant shore filled with shame and fright,

He lived alone, full of despair,

Never in his most vivid visions did he imagine she'd be there,

He grew in cruel reality, however grim,

It was the truth of what had become of him,

A bitter soul full of rage, full of hate,

He was at his end, but he'd no control of fate,

Then on a winter's night a child did arrive,

And for the first time in many years he felt alive,

At first he only watched, he needed to learn,

He heard her weep, her soul did yearn,

For what she could not have, the father she'd lost,

At once he understood, he'd paid no less a cost,

He listened in silence to her quiet prayers,

Realizing in haste, that life truly does birth pairs,

At long last summoning the courage he needed,

He responded out of love, to the prayers she'd pleaded,

An angel of music he'd come to be,

I can do it he said, she shan't ever know it's me,

He'd be her guard, he'd be her guide,

With the love of a father he'd be at her side,

As she grew, so did her choice,

He'd be her teacher, she'd be his voice,

She'd given herself, nary a question asked,

She'd never know him, that he was masked,

A specter and angel he would always be,

For no one could love him, not even she,

Then one night he did sense a change,

His heart summoned feelings altogether strange,

He'd grown to love her…He'd grown to love her,

He looked forward to sunsets, the rising moon,

His love did grow for her, her voice made him swoon,

Her heart, her voice, he'd come to know,

She was HIS angel, he shan't ever let her go,

Without her in it, the world was bleak,

He'd grown to love her, it made him weak,

No master of her, he could come to be,

A man at last if she'd but love me,

My heart strings undone, I'd tie so fast,

If she'd but love me, a true love at last,

It was destined to be, nay it was fated,

This cruel world he'd always hated,

She met him in his loneliness, his torment, his tears,

When no one would listen, she heard as the outcast hears,

But now a siren, a beauty, a savior,

He'd but wished he could somehow repay her,

With love and compassion, tender affection,

For to the world she was his reflection,

One day he hoped that she'd have heard,

That his love was true, his precious song bird,

He thought back to when it had first begun,

It for him was when first she'd sung,

No happier an ending could there ever be,

If my true love would utter, oh how I love thee.

Sweet siren of love, thou dost fill my soul, a lifetime with you shall make me whole, I've loved you at distances so great and so vast, and now in my arms I shall love everlast. My dearest wife, my heart, my heart, it longs for you…it longs for only you.

Erik's voice trailed off, the music began to slow. He'd not taken his eyes off of her the entire time he sang. Christine was speechless. How could any one man, one human love with such passion, with such depth…never having known love himself, only having been witness to the cruelties of the world? Where his heart should be hard it was soft, where it should be calloused it was tender, where it should have been void it held passion, where it should have been bitter it was vulnerable and longing.

She sat staring at him, her chest heaving up and down as the silent tears that she'd been shedding rolled down her face as tiny rivers of hope and joy.

Erik rose, the tails of his long black jacket flowing over the bench and down behind him as he walked toward her, eye's fixed, his form steady…confident. He too had been shedding tears. Leaning down he took Christine's trembling form into his arms. She wrapped her arms about his neck, burying her face in his chest as he lifted her into his arms, kissing her neck tenderly, and then her collarbone, and her shoulder, her chin. Christine shuddered as Erik put his hands on her, removing all stood in the way of their love.

He knelt before her as he studied her form in the soft glow of the firelight. She was beautiful to him. He leaned forward placing a tender kiss on her stomach, turning his cheek to her flesh, he wrapped his arms around her waist, with adoration and affection.

Christine ran her hand through his hair, reaching down with both, to lift his face towards hers. Slowly he rose, running his hands up her sides until he stood at full height above her. He leaned down, taking her face into his hands, he lifted it until her lips met his. He slid his arms down and lifted her from the ground, carrying her over to the divan on the opposite side of the study, just where the light of the fire broke into the darkness.

There he laid her down, gently coming to rest with her. Then he looked her deeply in the eye as he lowered his lips to hers taking them up passionately as the love grew between them. There in the tenderness of their first night together in their own house, they celebrated their love, their growing family, and all that the future held for them, which was far more than they could have ever dreamed of.

Though the blustery skies obscured the view, Erik had no doubt that a million stars had taken flight, along with their passions…on a long wintry night.

**Author's Notes:**

**Captain Oblivious**: I hope you weren't too disappointed in the prose of the love song…It is rather difficult to imagine what he'd say to her, but somehow I think he needed to tell her that he'd loved her in spite of himself. That's sort of what I was going for! Yes, I'd rather agree that Christine is a rather fortunate woman indeed! Now, as for smacking that "hot" guy…go no further unless Susie approves…even if he has a good voice, he might not be worthy of Susie! Sure hope you brought your Pauly Shore gun to school with you!

**Phantomsrogue**: My, my, aren't you the little multi-tasker! Watching a show, trying to read a story, and do homework all at the same time? Hopefully you didn't type anything you read or heard into your assignment or I dare say your teacher will have some fairly interesting reading! O.K. the bottles…they are the ones that Meg stuffed in the couch in the parlor when she'd come in from outside where she'd found her furniture and retrieved them. You might recall that she barely got inside when Raoul appeared, so she'd stuffed them down into the cushions of the divan for safekeeping.

**PhantomFan13:** Glad to hear you liked the Tchaikovsky insertion. He is my favorite Russian composer! I absolutely love 'Romanze', I think it should be a title song for a movie, it is so powerful, truly moving. Swan Lake is entirely lovely too.

By the end of this chapter, you'll know what it was that Erik wanted to show Christine! As for the story the old woman tells, its not so much really about that story, since they think she's crazy anyway! Its more about connecting with her daughter and granddaughter.

Yes, there is a hint of pity in my soul for Crawlings. It is hard to know how we would react if the only life we'd ever known was one of violence and vengeance. I can understand you want him to go away…but freeze? Yikes!

Yes, the exorcised reference is a bit eerie in light of that movie isn't it. But no relationship to the movie was intended.

Sorry about inducing a cake craving. I've made the confession to others, but I am an absolute food nut…all things dessert of course! Sadly, I can only describe the things that I've tried, hence you will never find stories about shark or caviar in this story! LOL

Yes, I like Kelly's song, 'Because of You', in fact I'm listening to it right now…darned…I had to go out and buy the CD! LOL I also like the last song on the CD, 'Beautiful Disaster', I think this song would describe Christine's feelings for Erik in the modern world if that is where they were right now. If you haven't listened to it, you might want to…I think you might agree.

Ontario! I spent part of a summer traveling around the southern part of Ontario. Niagra Falls of course, a small town Niagra on The Lake which I loved! I bought a tea pot that I use all the time in one of the little shops there! In fact it was there that we road a small horse drawn carriage around town as the sun set…it was so wonderful! We stayed several days in Thunder Bay, (we had the best dinner at East Side Mario's), a long while in Toronto (which I also loved). Have you been there? I loved Casa Loma…it was like touring a house I could see Erik build for Christine! There were so many breathtaking sights to see on the roads we took. We went to several national parks, and did a great deal of shopping…and of course eating! I had my first ever buffalo burger there, and "nip" fries, it was so much fun to experience it! I was also interested in so many different foods that you had there that aren't available in the U.S. I truly longed for the "dressed" chips and the Naniamo (?spelling?) bars, there was also a candy bar, I think it was called "coffee crisp", anyway, I loved Ontario. Sadly I've only been back there twice. I hope to get there again someday soon. The times I was there were all summer, but I can only imagine that fall is absolutely heavenly there!

**Christinelovesphantom**: Tell your dad he has good taste…cheddar with apple pie is wonderful, though it does sound strange! I love chocolate very much, but it just so happened that apple pie with its wonderful cinnamon and sweetness won out this time!

Hope you enjoy the next chapter!

**Crayann**: Thank you for the wonderful compliment. Yes, I dare say there is much going on during the most recent chapters. It's sort of a parallel to how everyone thinks that a storm brings life to a halt, when in fact, sometimes the most interesting part of living takes place when it seems it couldn't. How's that for confusing? I think disaster brings out the true heart of people in a way that nothing else does. I guess its the old adage when the going gets rough, that's when you see what you're really made of!

I don't envision the end of the story too very soon. I've a number of chapters in the works right now, and they don't put me anywhere close to the end of my hopes and dreams for this group of people. I simply hope that our little Phamily will stay with the story until the end. It is my hope that when it does arrive, that everyone will be happy and satisfied!

**ChristineluvsErik**: Thank you for the compliment regarding loving the story. When I started I just hoped to make a few people smile, but it seems that there was so much a need for a different ending to the story, that our Phamily has grown! I couldn't do it without the faithful readers like yourself. It makes me happy that it makes you happy!

Yes, Meg's note from Erik. Its not entirely unpredictable, but very necessary for the future!

**Tex110**: Oh, please…no going cross-eyed! I don't want to be responsible for any serious medical conditions…LOL. I consider it quite an honor that anyone would have the commitment to read the story all the way through once, but more than once? I hope it isn't because it is too confusing…? Thank you for the review!


	121. Perfect Storm

**Chapter 121 Perfect Storm**

The storm raged throughout the night. All of France was covered in a thick white blanket of fresh snow. There was nary a sign of it slowing down. There seemed to be an endless supply of moisture fueling what would surely go down in history books as the Perfect Storm.

Every small building was either entirely covered or heavily blanketed with layer upon layer of snow that had either fallen or been drifted there by the swirling winds. Those that had prepared would survive, those that had not, would likely perish. For it would be days before anyone could move about, save the fortunate few who had tools to tunnel through to care for their animals. One could only hope that in the aftermath, that Mother Nature's appetite had not been too great.

XXXXX

Raoul had fallen asleep with Meg in his arms on the divan in front of the fireplace in her room. He had pulled a blanket up over her as they talked late into the night. They'd had a bit of sherry, a pot of tea, some cookies, and all manner of things that one does when up until that hour. Finally they'd given in to their exhaustion. Meg had managed to slip out in the middle of the night to check the hallway and all the places she'd been that day inside the house. She had found nothing. Now all she could hope is that the pages were buried far beneath the snow outside, and for that, all she could do is wait.

XXXX

Down the hall, Madame Giry too had fallen asleep in the chair by the fire in Nadir's room. He'd taken out a heavy blanket and covered her. He'd tried to wake her, but had no success. The dear woman was no doubt weary from her labors. He'd retired to his own bed across the room from where she now slept. He'd opened the door to her room, and the one to his in case she'd wake during the night. Perhaps this would become a common occurrence…leaving the doors open...he thought he'd rather like that.

XXXXXX

Downstairs DeChagny had finally woken up and stumbled over to the large sofa in the study. He was far too tired, and far too weary to carry himself all the way upstairs. The room was sufficiently warm, and he sufficiently sleepy…they were a perfect match. From the looks of what he could see out of the window, it wouldn't matter if everyone slept until well past dawn the next day, they wouldn't be traveling so much as outside.

XXXXX

The city of Chauesser had fared the worst in the storm, or at least they'd thought so. The door to the inns were entirely sealed shut by a number of feet of snow. The winds had howled through the streets, causing drifts the size of the rolling hills that surrounded the city. It was a sight they hoped they shan't see again in a great number of years.

There had been feeble attempts made by innkeepers to push doors open and clear their walks, but the snow continued to fall, making their labors an effort in futility. There were a few brave men who'd ventured out in snow shoes. Mostly benevolent souls traveling from roof to roof to make sure chimney's weren't impacted with snow.

The outer silence was a perfect camouflage for all the activity that went on beneath the snowy roofs. Inside, there was no lack of activity as guests and innkeepers settled into a routine that would need to be managed for a few days at the very least.

XXXX

Up on a distant hill sat a stately house. It had been battered by the chilling winds, and caked on all sides by snow that stuck to it nearly like a layer of thick frosting. The icy covered pane of one window remained cleared, she had insisted upon it. She wasn't a demanding woman, but she felt she must always keep a watchful eye on the city she cherished so dearly.

She prayed for the citizens of the village as she looked down at the chimneys barely breaking through the thick blanket of snow. They looked like tiny sprigs of grass popping out of the ground at the first hint of spring she thought.

She imagined the children playing in the houses, making all sorts of mischief, being held prisioner by the snow outside. She smiled, a gentle tear running over her lower lid, she reached up to catch it lest anyone would notice.

A woman in a proper maid's uniform came round the side of the chair she sat in, "more tea mum?" "Hmmmm yes…thank you." She'd no desire to leave the window. Everything she'd lived for these past thirty odd years was in that village….and just beyond…though she didn't know it yet.

XXXXX

The stable master had roused the entire staff in the carriage house at dawn. They'd had their hot breakfast, though a bit scant as they couldn't get to the house to resupply. Coffee was always flowing, and there were the remnants of the grand dinner they'd enjoyed the night previous to nibble on.

They were thankful for the interior connections to the other parts of the stable, for they'd been able to retrieve their shovels and picks, that had already been packed away thinking the season for their use entirely over. They'd gone out with their large snow rakes and snow shoes. They'd see to removing the snow from their roof first, lest it cave in under the weight.

They'd spent the last three hours trying to make some headway so that they could at least open the stable doors for fresh air for all the horses and livestock. The last of the reserves of the winter hay were given the animals, there was but supply for another week, and they hoped it wouldn't be that long before things would return to normal, or they'd all be left wanting for something to eat!

In all of their labors, they'd forgotten about the trouble with the carriage driver the night before. He'd taken up shovel and pick, shoulder to shoulder with the rest of the men, earning him a bit of clemency.

Several of them had made it over to the house on snowshoe and had begun to shovel away the snow from the porches. They'd next need to find access to the roof, for certainly a fair amount of snow had fallen there. They'd drawn straws for it. It wasn't an easy task, but the view of the city from there was worth the effort alone.

XXXXX

Inside, Madeline had been awake for hours. She'd been baking up breakfast rolls, breads, and several more pies, a chocolate cake, a spice cake, and rice pudding. She'd already begun stewing several large pots of meat and broth, to which she'd add the vegetables she now was preparing.

She'd no reason to complain for all the work. The rest of the staff had been stuck over in the carriage house, and she'd no doubt they'd been busy taking care of all the men there. At least she was in the warmth of her own surroundings, and had the peace and quiet she was certain they were lacking. She'd slept in her own bed, and had a fresh change of clothing in the morning. No, she was the lucky one.

XXXXX

"Hmmmm…." Erik's voice seemed to come out of him though he was not yet awake. He could hear knocking…a distant knocking… He was so comfortable…so sleepy. There it was again, only this time a bit more insistent. He opened his eyes. They were still in the library. He looked down, Christine was peacefully asleep in his arms. They'd fallen asleep…after. He smiled, kissing her on the forehead.

The knocking again. If they'd reason to be that persistent, he needed to respond. "Just a moment will you." He called out in as hushed a tone as he could manage. Erik slipped from beneath the covers, quickly noting the chill in the air. He turned round and pulled the covers up under Christine's nose. He slipped on his smoking jacket, lashing it about his waist. He turned and put another log in the fireplace, pushing about the embers to start the fire anew.

Erik quietly walked over to the door, unlatching it. The maid stood there, eyes averted. "I'm dreadfully sorry sir to disturb you, but Erphan asked if I might inquire…" she could barely bring herself to ask.

Erik looked at her, at first he felt irritation for being bothered, and would have liked nothing more than to shoo her away with an indignant wave of his hand….but…that was the old Erik. He exhaled, "what is it that Erphan needs woman?"

She still didn't look up, "I'm afraid they've gotten the plow stuck sir. They were going to lash it to the horses, but it needed to be turned round, and now they've wedged it in the snow, and they…"

Erik knew what was needed, he'd spare her and not make her ask forthright. "Allow me to dress. Do tell Erphan that I shan't be more than a few minutes." He looked back over his shoulder. Christine was well covered. "And do see to building up the fire for her won't you? And to some breakfast; whatever she desires."

The maid curtsied, "as you wish sir." She turned to do as instructed. Erik watched her walk down the hall for a second, then thought, "and thank you….do tell me, what is your first name again?"

The maid looked nearly horrified at him, "Misty sir," she stammered, "my name is Misty."

Erik smiled at her nodding his head, "and thank you Misty, for bringing this to my attention." She nodded her head, and turned. A broad smile crossed her face….he'd asked her name.

XXXX

Nicole had fallen asleep against a large pile of dirty linens. She'd been up all night making beds, running coffee, and generally lending a hand wherever it had been needed.

The dining room had turned into a gathering place of sorts. There wasn't much other place for those who were awake to sit, and being in one's room could only be tolerated for so long. She'd found this quiet corner to rest in for but a few winks. One of the other staff came through, accidentally bumping into her as she passed.

"I'm sorry Nicole, I didn't mean to wake you." She said politely offering the apology.

"Wake me…oh dear…how long have I been sleeping?" The other woman just shrugged her shoulders and went about her duties. Nicole stood, wiping under eyes, straightening her dress. She had to get home, no doubt her mother and grandmother would be looking for her.

She was quickly bundled and ready to go out into the storm. She knew she'd be climbing over the mountains of snow that were outside, but she'd have to do it.

Her employer came up to her just as she was at the door. "Here, take this with you. A thank you to you and your family for helping us." He handed her a pack with a warm breakfast in it, enough for three, and several loaves of the bread she'd helped make in the wee hours of the morning.

"Thank you sir, they will enjoy this very much." This would save her time when she got home, for no doubt they'd be hungry. She wrapped her scarf around her face, shivering as the two stableman came in the front door. They'd managed to clear a small path to the edge of the courtyard, though it was already starting to fill back in.

"Good travels to you miss." They said as they passed her. She'd not have far to go, but it would be a journey none-the-less.

"If you should need anything…" She said to her employer.

"Go home, rest, take care of your grandmother my dear, we shall be fine." In truth he wouldn't have minded if she had stayed, she was the hardest worker he had, and decidedly the most dedicated.

Nicole shivered hard as the cold winds battered at her cloak. Walking to the edge of the courtyard, she looked up at the bank of snow…there was little choice, she'd have to climb it. She'd tucked the breakfasts into her bag, which she'd slung over her shoulder under her cloak, she now looked like a hunch back climbing into the snow, a sherpa of sorts. She sunk up to her knees into the snow, a shrill cold ran up her legs as she was headlong into climbing it.

Her employer watched from inside the warmth of the inn. That, he decided, was a young woman who loved her family. She would make a wonderful wife someday. He shook his head, and headed back to his guests. There was much to do, much to do indeed.

Nicole was out of breath as she pulled herself in the door. It had been her good fortune that the large pine tree that hovered irritatingly close to the front door had provided a little shelter to the entrance at least allowing her to find the door in a wind-swept cove carved by the winds that had swirled around it.

She shook her cloak, and the folds of her dress. She was soaked through and through. No doubt the breakfast would be cold now, it had taken her much longer than she'd hoped, but she was home, she was safe, and she could get some much needed rest.

She climbed the flight of stairs to their flat on the second floor. The door was unlatched, she thought that strange. Perhaps her mother had left it open so that she wouldn't need her key. She pushed open the door, discarding her snow-caked cloak on the rack, her shoes she'd slipped off and carried them over to the fire, along with her stockings. The rocking chairs were empty, no doubt they'd gone off to bed, and with the snow outside, they'd no reason to get up and about.

Nicole went to her small room at the back of the flat, changing into her warm woolen night clothes, slipping on a fresh pair or warm socks. She went about warming up a pan for their breakfast. She started some coffee. The extra warmth from the oven felt good on her chilled flesh. She'd put the cover on the pan, and was turning around, the breeze from her swirling blanket caused a piece of paper to take flight. Nicole cocked her head to the side, "whatever can that be?"

She walked over, sleepily rubbing at her eyes, she bent over to pick up the paper. On it was scrawled eleven words that nearly stopped her heart.

She was at once in motion. She returned to the oven, taking everything from the top, closing the doors. She dropped her blanket, running to her room. She found her two pair of woolen trousers, pulling them on along with several pairs of socks, a layer of sweaters. She dug through her closet to find the shortest coat she had, an old one of her father's. She put on her mittens, her hat, and several scarves. She breathed in taking one more look at the note as tears welled in her eyes. She was out the door and down the stairs in three beats of her heart.

On the counter sat the note scrawled in quick verse, "Your grandmother's gone missing. I've gone to find her. Love Mum"

XXXXX

"Push man, push!" Erik leaned heavily on the side of the plow. He and Erphan had taken one side, three men the other. The two of them combined had more strength than the three as their side budged each time they pushed. They'd nearly unwedged it twice, only to have it slip back into place.

"We've got to move that snow there," Erik said pointing at the gully that seemed to provide an attractive place for the plow to rest, thus keeping it wedged. Two of the men quickly took up shovels picking away at the spot he'd pointed to.

He and Erphan stood side by side, puffing in the cold air. Their brows beaded with sweat, which was quickly cooling. "Thank you sir, we'd not be able to do this without you. I know you've some healing to do, and I didn't mean to trouble you, but…"

Erik was looking at him, he was babbling on again. Erik closed his eyes, swallowed once, and then he laughed just slightly. Releasing the clench he'd started to feel in his jaw from the frustration of failure and the annoyance of chatter. "Do not worry Erphan, it was right of you to call upon me. For this is my house, and any work you do on my behalf, is my work. If I'm needed, I'm needed, I'm not above working up a sweat young man!"

Erphan relaxed a bit. He was thankful that Erik had not been angry for being disturbed. He admired his strength and his compassion…he only wished he some day could emulate it. Somewhere out there, there had to be a woman that he could love as Stephan loved his Elizabeth, and he'd no doubt he'd want to treat her with the same respect as he had observed between the two of them.

Erik smiled at Erphan, wondering what he was thinking. The blank stares he got from the man from time to time were a bit unsettling. "Erphan?" Erik said, bringing him back to the present, "are you ready?" The men were finished, they would try again.

"Oh sirs, I do apologize." He leaned his shoulder in once more. The men pushed for all they were worth, groaning under the strain of it. "PUSH! PUSH! PUSH!" Erik was yelling as if his volume would assist them. And much to his pleasure, they were victorious. The plow lay beyond where it was wedged, they could get the horse out and have it harnessed. They could at least make enough room for them to move about, and a path to the house.

Erik stood fully from the position he'd been in, stooped over, hands on his knees trying to catch his breath. He'd not exerted himself that hard in a good long while. In part it felt good, the physical nature of it, but it was the twinges in his side that now gave him concern. Perhaps he'd pushed it too far. He'd return to the house, and to Christine…she always made him feel better.

He shook the men's hands, much to their surprise. Turned and went back to the house over the mound of snow that he and Erphan had negotiated to get there. The men stood looking at one another. He was both a gentleman's gentleman, and man of great understanding. They'd be evermore loyal because of it…he was a rarity indeed.

XXXX

Christine was dreaming. It wasn't a wonder that the netherworlds of her mind contained dreams of snow angels and laughing children. That seemed to consume her mind as of late. She'd seen her father again on the mountain top, this time he'd but waived to her. Though the child on his shoulder still puzzled her, the number of children no longer did…there were three. She'd gone on passed this dream into the snowy world, passing a small village, with rooftops and chimneys barely visible, she was flying on the wings of something, she could see white feathers but nothing more. Suddenly they were slowing, and everything seemed to move in slow motion. The creature was taking her passed a house on a hill, flying low enough that she could see a figure in a window. She was straining to see it…yes a singular figure…the eyes… Christine felt herself leaning forward….

She startled awake, she'd felt cold hands on her flesh…she sat up gasping. Had the hands come from the dream? There sat Erik, a playful grin on his face. "I was but warming my hands my dear, you do not mind do you?" He knew better. The look of disquiet on Christine's face was priceless.

"Erik! I was…" He closed the distance between them, burying his cold nose in her neck, his cheek against her chest. "Erik!" she squealed, then she laughed painfully. Her consternation for being disturbed quickly melting as she looked down into his eyes…he was shivering. She lifted the covers. "You best climb in, and let me warm all of you then." She said with a bit of a motherly tone. Erik didn't hesitate to accept the invitation. He was frozen, and nothing warmed him like this woman…nothing.

The maid came to the door of the library, and was ready to open it. She'd brought Christine's tea, and the slice of cake she'd wanted. But hearing the giggles, and the voices from inside, she decided against knocking. A fresh pot of tea could always be made…memories like this not.

**Author's Notes:**

**Captainoblivious**: Now, you have to stop all this physical violence! Really, your poor friend doesn't need to be beaten to write you a love song! Have you not heard my dear, the old saying, "You catch more flies with honey than vinegar!" LOL. Yes, if Susie likes him, then he's a keeper. Do not be fooled by his "beemer" as Christine learned, there is more to life than money…love is what one needs! Hmmmm….not that I'm encouraging any developments! And…Patmobile? Well….he might not be the best one to write a love song my dear…it may be rather droll. LOL

O.k., the pages she is missing are the ones that Nadir gave to her that he'd found at the winter house. The note from Erik is still safe and sound in the book…just where she left it. Sorry for the confusion.

Hope you are having a wonderful time at school, and that you, Chris, and "Pat" are having a wonderful start to the year!

**Truphan**: Welcome to the family! We hope your stay with our Phamily is a long and happy one! We are always excited to welcome new members….the more, the merrier! Thank you for the compliment on the story. I love that you…um…love it! Yes, your observation about Christine knowing French is a good one….however….Christine knew some words, but she'd been raised in an English speaking household by Madame Giry, therefore she was more comfortable with English than French. Erik, being the ever doting husband, wanted to make sure she didn't miss any of the meaning. For me, even though I speak several different languages, sometimes when I hear other people speak it to me, I might miss some of the subtle nuances of what they are trying to say. Maybe that is why I went with that thought when I wrote that part. Hope that makes sense!

Now, as has become our tradition for our Phamily…let's have a stab at your name now shall we? I think it is fairly straight forward….but I've been wrong before! LOL! Tru, of course meaning absolute. The choice of the word "phan" verses fan, means that you are in complete sync with being designated a Phantom fan, so "phan" for short, not to be mistaken for any other sort of fan. Now, if you would be inclined to share, please share with your new Phamily…how did you arrive at your chosen tag name?

**Phantomsrogue**: Multitasking is certainly an art form! I find myself somewhat irritated if I am not at least doing two things at one time. Preparing dinner, listening to music, doing a load of laundry, and talking on the phone. Eating dinner, typing on my computer and giving myself a facial. Well, you get the idea! There is too much life out there to be lived to waste time doing only one thing at a time. I already sleep only around five hours a day, at most, because I'm afraid I'll miss something! If I didn't multitask, I'd never be able to afford the time to sleep…and that would be a bad thing! LOL

Ah yes, Tchaikovsky…I could go on and on about him. I think it is interesting that he was a composer that lived during the period that our story is set in. That really was a beautiful period of history…everything refined and elegant, and on the other hand so rudimentary and starkly real. One could not live without being earnest, because life was so much shorter then. His music is a perfect blend of happiness, and contrast, and it strikes me as capable in terms of speaking to the soul, as any piece of music that has words. O.K., I'm going to stop, as I said, I could go on and on about him! And, yes, to answer your question…I love Mozart! I agree, there is something of a deep inner draw for me to the darker music of certain composers…I suppose that is how I fell in love with POTO from the musical aspect anyway!

I am ashamed to say I never say 'Interview with a Vampire' though I should have. I just wasn't in a place in my life then that I could have dealt with the gore very well. I really should rent it though because I am about to read the new novel 'The Historian', and as I understand it, the subject matter is very closely interwoven…the whole mystique of Dracula and all. I've no doubt that the music would be wonderful. Have you listened to the soundtrack for 'Batman Begins'? If not, it is entirely instrumental…very haunting. I've added to my odd behavior sometimes playing that music with the window to my living room open…I swear my neighbors don't talk to me often thinking I'm the crazy one on the block!

Now, as for a "southerner" liking anything but "country" music, I must tell you I've never categorized people in any particular way, well, maybe except by nationality when I'm in their country perhaps. I think we are all individuals with our own likes and dislikes. Our geography shouldn't matter because we are usually products of our environment in terms of exposure, but that doesn't determine who we are…WE determine who we are. I suppose some people do, but I think it isn't fair…just because you live somewhere doesn't mean that's what's in your heart and soul…sorry for the side-step, it's just something that I've always thought shouldn't happen…you should be able to like country music, or not, no matter where you hale from!

Thank you for the suggested reading. I am trying not to read other fanfics right now because I don't want to be distracted by other ideas. I know that sounds callous, but I never want someone else's work to influence mine, it sort of feels like I'm not being true to my own work if I do that. And, when I read their work, I want to give it my full attention, out of respect for them. Hope that makes sense. I will keep it on my list of things to read though!

Glad to hear you are a Degas fan! I took ballet when I was younger, along with tap and jazz. I must say I am not the tall, graceful type, so even though it was good for me, and I did learn about poise and such, I never went beyond the fifth year. When everyone was a head taller than me, it looked rather silly at recitals! So, I do have an appreciation for it, and admire its beauty and fluidity, and those that are able to do it with grace! I think Meg and Christine made wonderful chorus girls….and though we never really saw Christine dressed as a ballerina, I'm certain we could all easily imagine it! In fact, I think ballet would make a good form of exercise for Christine during her pregnancy, wouldn't you say?

**Tex110:** Glad to hear it! I also got the impression that you planned to stick it out with us…thank you…I hope the ride is worth it!

**PhantomFan13**: Thank you for the compliment on the song. I must admit, it is not the best thing I've ever written, but I wanted it to work for the story, keep to the period and tie in the number of trials and feelings that Erik was having. So, that sort of stifled my creativity because normally poetry just flows out of my subconscious mind without a predetermined path…so this was a bit of struggle for me. Hope it wasn't too "campy!"

Yes, revisions of chapters will likely take place once I am finished with the story. I understand your concerns about Christine's disguise…I'll have to think on that one for awhile. Publishing is something I've thought about at length…but it is rather expensive, and time consuming…but I'm not ruling it out!

I love Niagra Falls, and Niagra on the Lake! The candy shops, I agree…great chocolate there! I had my first, potato-chip covered peanuts there! It was so odd, we don't have those where I live! Do they still have the horse-drawn carriage there? They were at I think it was the "Prince of Wales" hotel, but I'm probably thinking of the wrong hotel name.

Oh, 'Les Miserable'…it is indeed wonderful, and I suppose depending on what sort of story you like, you could enjoy it as much as POTO, but not me…I fell hard for POTO! Even though the others are good, they are not POTO….I've given POTO tickets as gifts…there is nothing like seeing a live production of it….

Finally, the note from Erik will be revealed…..as soon as Meg can get away from everyone else to read it!

**Christinelovesphantom**: Yes, cheddar and apple pie…I must confess it does sound odd, but it is good…but not as good as chocolate! The part about Sebastian and Pyotr, they are the two men that Nadir visited with at the mercantile while he waited for Erik to conclude his business with the shopkeeper. You might recall that Erik was rather cool towards them when he came to retrieve Nadir. The shopkeeper had warned Erik about those two men…something just didn't seem right about them, and the shopkeeper wanted Erik to know not to trust them. So, it turns out the shopkeeper might be right…they may indeed be up to no good!

I'm glad to hear you are enjoying Erik and Christine together. Every time I watch POTO now, I don't cry as much because I know in the alternate universe our little Phamily is living in right now, that he and Christine are very happy! SAD…I know, but it's what got me writing this story in the first place!

**Crayann**: Thank you. Sincerely, thank you. It still makes me shake my head sometimes to think that there are people out there reading AND enjoying what I'm writing…it makes the whole experience so much more real for me…I just cannot explain it. The fact that I know that somewhere out there that someone, or in our case a number of someones are coming together everyday, linked by this story, is more than humbling to me…it makes me happy in places that I never knew could contain happiness…. smiles looking down humbly

**PhantomLover05:** Hope that today went well for you! I gather from your note that you must have tried out for one of the parts?


	122. What Lies Beneath

Chapter 122 What lies beneath 

Morning found Sebastian and Pyotr sound asleep in their rooms. They'd been up till all hours of the night planning and plotting. They'd hide the goods in the woods. Thankfully the last group had yet to arrive, for surely it would have been discovered by the men in the stables now.

Once the snow cleared, they'd go down to the old farm house and set things up there. The tricky part now would be to make sure no one actually made it all the way to that house, they'd been dreaming up excuses to keep them away. It would all work out. Yes, but one more season and they'd be finished in Chauesser. The people would never know what happened, until it was already done.

XXXX

Nicole was frantic. The blinding snow, the frigid temperatures, combined with her utter exhaustion were nearly undoing her. She'd gone to the few places she could reach that she knew her grandmother frequented. There was no telling how long she'd been gone, or how far she might have gotten. She hadn't run across her mother, nor found evidence of any tracks.

Inside as she pushed her nearly numb limbs through the snow, she felt guilty for the thoughts she'd had the day before. She would spend the rest of her life without a husband, without children if she could but find them now. She wiped a tear from her eye. She shouldn't have gone back to the inn. Her mental battering had begun. Who would have thought anyone would venture out in this weather? The winds howled behind her, the snow seemed to be picking up again. She'd keep going a bit longer, but she knew eventually she'd have to turn back, or perish herself.

XXXXX

Madeline smiled as she heard someone stomping their boots on the back porch. She'd stopped from time to time to watch out the window as they'd worked on a path to the main house. Though the snow continued to fall, they'd had to start somewhere. She'd watched as one man had been hoisted by a set of pulleys and rope to the roof of the house and as the large sheets of snow had fell from the roof above as he'd been pushing it off.

Madeline met the stable master with a hot cup of coffee. "Thank you Madeline." He inhaled at first to take in the warmth of the coffee, but was quickly distracted by all of the other savory aromas that were wafting around the kitchen. "What is that?"

Madeline smiled at him turning and walking back into the kitchen, he quickly on her heels. "Lunch good sir, lunch. You and your men are hungry are they not?" She'd set about lifting a large roll caked with cinnamon and frosting from the pan and onto a plate with fork and knife. He was delighted as she carried it over to the table where he'd sat himself.

"A bit of a treat for your labors." She said, sitting it down in front of him, and then returned to her work. For a few minutes there was silence as he savored each bite of the sweet, tender roll, with his hot coffee. Madeline busied herself preparing the hams that would need to go into the ovens for dinner that night.

She glanced over her shoulder. "Lunch will be ready, perhaps a bit early for your staff sir, I've made several pots of stew. Once you've cleared a path, perhaps you could send someone up with a sled."

The man stood, wiping his chin, sitting the napkin back on the table next to the empty plate. "Thank you, that was superb." "You are most welcome." He was retrieving his cloak. "Have you had no company yet this morning?" He was glancing down the hall. Madeline smiled, she'd enjoyed the peace and quiet.

"Not even one soul sir, save yourself." She smiled at him, and he at her. He nodded and disappeared out the door back into the cold. She shivered as she felt the cold swish of breeze around her ankles. She'd get the ham into the oven and then see to stoking the fires. By now the rooms would have started to cool a bit she was certain. And tea, yes several pots of tea…. She scuffled off to the pantry.

XXXX

The doctor paced heavily by the hearth in the kitchen below. He'd given the poor man's wife something to help her sleep. She was exhausted, and there was nothing to be done now. They couldn't even get to the undertakers. It had been a long time since he'd done an undertaker's work, but he knew the methods if he'd have to use them. A body could only be kept for just so long unprepared. The other men had gone off to sleep. It hadn't been that far from dawn when they'd finally been able to rest. The pine box lay out in the parlor, reminiscent of when all funerals in Paris took place in one's home.

His mind was troubled. He wanted to get to Raoul. In the man's dying breath he'd wanted to save another. But why Raoul? To what good could this come? Would the killing stop there or would he continue on his murderous rampage? The doctor could see no sense in it. He was a bitter young man, set on vengeance, and little else. Oh if someone could but tell him he had a choice. That his life didn't have to end up like that of his father and brother. Though, if found now, he'd be sure to be hanged.

The doctor looked out the window. The snow was still coming down. He shook his head. He could only hope his own family were safe and well. It might be a time before he'd be able to see them again.

XXXXX

Meg slipped from beneath the covers and Raoul's arm. It seemed all they'd done in days was sleep and eat. Waking at all sorts of strange hours, and finding themselves in one another's arms. Not that it was a bad routine. In fact, it had become quite the opposite. Meg looked forward to opening her eyes in a way she hadn't before. But now, she had one thing on her mind…that note.

She walked quietly over to her bed. The beauty of the room distracting her a bit, it was so entirely different looking in the light of day. She looked back over her shoulder as she heard Raoul inhale and slowly exhale as he repositioned himself. She slid her hand under the pillow retrieving the envelope, tucking it quickly into the pocket of her robe. She paused to look out the window, and her eyes grew wide. The statue in the garden was barely visible, and the benches, and fencing were far beneath the snow. She turned once more looking at Raoul before she ducked into the water closet.

She latched the door closed behind her. The room was nearly dark. She'd either light a candle, or make use of the small window. She decided the later was the most expedient, so she moved to the window, pushing aside the small curtain. She retrieved the envelope and carefully turned it over in her hands, running her thumb under the seal. She lifted the pages out of the envelope, returning it to her pocket lest she be so careless as to forget it there. She opened the parchment and several folded bills fell to the floor. She bent down retrieving them. It was no little sum of money…she dared think it was as much as she'd ever held in her hand at one time. She put them in her pocket. She opened the note…

_My dearest Meg,_

_I've enclosed several things for your comfort should you find need for them. I know that you do not feel as close to me as I do to you perhaps, having spent so much time with your mother talking about you as you grew, I came to know you far more than you'd imagine. These last months have been a difficult time for all concerned, as my health was a burden to the lot of us. I do not wish to dwell upon the past, but look forward only to the future. Our dear Nadir shares of your news, and though I am feeling rather guarded about the newest interest in your life, I want you to know we wish you nothing but happiness. It is no easy undertaking to find love, and it sometimes appears in the strangest most unexpected places…I know that all too well. Again, we wish you only happiness…whatever that might be for you. _

_Now there is another matter which is in part the purpose of this note. It has come to my attention that your mother and a certain friend of mine may appear to have an interest in one another. I was able to pull it from him, in a somewhat weakened state, he made his confession. No doubt, you've seen this too. Not that he required it, nor that it was my place to confer it, but I've given him my blessing to stay on in Paris if there is a future for the two of them. I have loved them both dearly and shan't want to stand in the way of their happiness. _

_And now to the end of this purpose. The funds enclosed are to be used for whatever you might need. Should you find want to return to our home, please do so. If you should find that your feelings have changed about a certain someone, or that you are not sure, or need council on the matter from a friend, please do come see us…our home will always be home for you…no matter what choice you make…no matter what choice your mother makes._

_We miss you terribly, think of you often, and pray for you ceaselessly._

_Respectfully, _

_PS. If you should ever find yourself in need of our presence, if there was a happening of an emergent nature for you or any of your family, you may dispatch a courier. It is not a pleasant place, but he is both discrete and expedient, he could have us here within a day. Do not hesitate if you should need us. Perdue, LeMortum Street # 3_

Meg refolded the papers and slipped them back into the envelope in her pocket, along with the funds he'd sent. She could see why he'd tucked it in the book. A note of that nature would have infuriated her mother, horrified Raoul, and embarrassed Nadir to no end. He truly did care for her. He wanted her to know that she'd have a home if she'd not want to stay with Raoul.

Though she doubted her feelings for him would change, she could not speak for him. What would be if he ever discovered her secrets? Then she'd need to run as far as she could…She breathed a bit easier. Erik knew so little of what she knew, Raoul knew so little of what she knew, her mother, Nadir….it seemed she was now keeping secrets from everyone!

Her hand fumbled with the envelope in her pocket. She'd have to find a hiding place for this one too..and this time a good one where she shan't have to use acrobatics or sneakery to conceal it. Ahhh, she'd just the place for it, under the wardrobe. They were big and heavy, and very unlikely to be moved any time soon.

She repositioned the curtain and walked out into the room pulling the pocket door closed. She was going to return to Raoul's side, but when she glanced over at the Divan, he was gone, the door to her room slightly ajar. Her eyes opened wide. It was a good thing she'd gone into the water closet, for he wasn't as deeply asleep as he appeared.

XXXX

Christine slipped from beneath Erik's arms. She pulled the covers up over his bare chest, pausing just a moment to gaze at him before tucking the covers beneath his chin. He stretched out just slightly, smacking his lips together. He was warm, he was comfortable, and she was fairly certain that he was as content as she was. She smiled, leaning down placing a kiss on his cheek..his right cheek. The stitch marks were a bit more visible today then they'd been in a long while. Perhaps it was his physical exertion with the plow, the cold winds, or a combination of the two. It didn't appear painful, just a darker red that gave hints as to what he might have endured. She kissed it again. His flesh was not a concern…it was simply a singular part of the whole man she loved.

She slipped on her nightdress, and her robe. Carefully pulled on her long stockings. She ran her fingers through her hair and slipped the ribbon back in collecting her abundant head of curls. She'd not had her tea, nor her cake…and now though she'd done very little….well…in terms of work anyway….she found herself quite hungry. She knelt down by the fire once more, putting on a few smaller logs, nestling it in next to the large one Erik had put on when he'd first woke that day.

Padding over to the door of the library opening and closing it behind her. The maid was in the hallway, giving her a curious look. "Let Stephan rest please, he's tired from his labors." She nodded. "And if you do not mind, let us go down to the kitchen. We can discuss plans for dinner whilst I nibble on that cake you'd brought for me."

The two began walking down the hall together. "And perhaps, if it is not too much trouble, you could draw me a bath…no…better yet…can you show me…I'd like to learn how to use this new plumbing myself…I'm sure there's a trick to it."

The maid nodded. They were indeed an interesting pair she and Stephan. She could easily brag to the other maids in the village that she was part of the new sort of household, and enlightened household. That is, when the weather cleared enough to go to the village again.

XXXX

The boy shivered in the carriage. Now with the banks of snow as high as they were, he'd have sufficient shelter to be able to light a fire, though he was certain the horses wouldn't like being that close to it. They'd have to make due, he needed to warm himself or he'd freeze to death.

He used the kindlings from the fire he'd tried to light the night before. There was an ample supply of twigs and downed branches under the pine tree, at least for several more fires he thought. By then he'd be out of food, and if the weather didn't subside, staying warm would be the least of his worries. At least the prospect of freezing to death wasn't horrible….one always felt warm at the end, and then you simply fell asleep.

XXXX

Nicole had been out in the weather for as near as she could figure an hour. She was making her way back to her flat. She needed to warm up, to take shelter. The few she'd run into that were out cleaning off roofs hadn't seen either of them. She had to go back if but to change clothes and get warm to start out again. She pulled herself into the door, and slowly climbed the stairs. Her arms and legs were stiff; she could barely move them.

At the top of the stairs she could see that the door to their flat was closed. She didn't remember closing it, but she'd left in such haste she couldn't be sure. Then she heard a thump come from the other side of the door. She scurried to it quickly, pushing the door open.

"Oh Nicole…." Her mother embraced her, pulling her into the kitchen. "Thank the heavens you are alright. I went to the inn, and they said they'd last seen you early this morning, and then I came back here and saw your clothes….." Her mother nearly collapsed in her arms. "I'd thought I'd lost you too…." She began to weep bitterly. "I tried to find her…I just cannot imagine where she might have gone…I checked everywhere I thought she might have gotten to…but I don't know when she left…what time was it when you left?" Her mother trying to calm herself long enough to have the conversation.

"It was around half past nine last night mother. When I left the two of you were sound asleep in your rockers." She led her mother over to the fire. She needed to warm her feet, hang out her coat. "What time did you leave this morning?"

Her mother was wringing her hands in her skirt. "It was…I think it was…I'm not sure…but somewhere between seven-thirty and eight I suppose. She'd not even left a note, she was simply gone. When first I woke I thought perhaps you'd taken her somewhere, but then it occurred to me you couldn't have taken her to work with you, she'd be no help to you there. Then I noticed her boots were gone, and she'd taken a bag, heaven knows what she'd put in it…that's when I knew…." Her mother began to sob as she leaned into her. "Shhhh…we will find her mother…we will find her."

XXXXX

Nadir and Madame Giry were awake. Madeline had brought them in a pot of tea and a few of the rolls with cinnamon that she'd just made. They were a little embarrassed, but comfortable now, having woken up to find themselves in the same room.

Nadir had rejoined her by the fire that he'd freshly stoked. The room was warming quickly, Nadir shedding his robe. Though Madame Giry was very warm now, she' not be shedding her robe…she wasn't that comfortable.

"Nadir, you should have seen the look on her face when she saw that room. She was so delighted! Raoul was so very generous with her, so generous indeed."

Nadir nodded. If he were a man of Raoul's means, he too would have been as generous. "He does have a very fond affection for her I dare say." Nadir said as Madame Giry freshened both of their cups of tea. "It would be a good match for Meg. He is hansom, he is witty, he is kind. They seem to have a great deal in common."

Madame Giry was nodding as if agreeing, but she knew there was one clause Nadir had forgotten. "Yes, but she does not come from the finest families in France. His father frowns on it truly. Time will tell I guess…whether or not they are destined to be together." Madame Giry said sipping her tea.

"Madame, while names are all very important to his father, I've no doubt that he would be very happy with Meg. She does not come from a family with scandal, she requires no special set of circumstances or agreements to be made between father's. She's a perfect match for him really. She's been well raised, refined, and as cute as a button!"

That made Madame Giry smile. It was not she that had to be convinced, it was Raoul's father, for he had the power to make their lives full of misery if he was disappointed. And she'd no want to bring that on any of them.

"Perhaps I could have a talk with him," Nadir said, smiling at Madame Giry. "He and I seem to be getting on quite famously, perhaps I'm just enough of the fatherly type to stand in for Meg." Nadir hadn't meant to offend Madame Giry, or impose, he'd only meant to help, but as soon as the words had left his mouth, he wished he could take them back.

Madame Giry's upper lip stiffened just a bit. Her relaxed demeanor, shifting just slightly. She'd thought it a bit rude that he'd be so forward.

"I didn't mean to imply that…" Nadir bit his tongue.

Madame Giry inhaled and exhaled. He'd only meant to help, she could see it in the contrition of his eyes. "Nadir, if anyone is to stand in for Meg at this point, it should be me, but I do thank you for the offer…for thinking of her." Madame Giry said putting her cup in its saucer. "I suppose I should be seeing to getting dressed. No doubt there is something to be done, and I'm sure that Meg misses me." She stood, putting the cup back on the tray. "Nadir," she nodded as she walked back toward her room.

He hadn't meant to offend her, he hadn't apologized…he was on his feet and behind her as she reached the hallway between their rooms. He reached out his hand to touch her shoulder.

She was feeling guilty that she'd left so abruptly…after all…he was only trying to help. She had to go back, apologize, she turned… The two of them ran right into one another, nearly toppling to the floor. Nadir caught her about the waist. She was about to thank him when she looked into his eyes…before she knew what happened, Nadir had taken her into his arms, kissing her.

Her heart was pounding. He pulled away briefly to look her in the eye. They stood looking at one another. Her lips quivered. Nadir leaned in for another kiss, but she pulled away. She was flush crimson as she moved quickly into her room, closing the door that led to their hallway behind her. She leaned her back against the door, her hand covering her mouth…she was aghast. "What have I done?" She mumbled under her breath. Her chest was fluttering…she hadn't felt this way in so many years she'd barely recalled what it felt like. She simply stood there, unable to move, unable to breathe.

Nadir was on the other side of the door. He was giving himself a verbal lashing under his breath. "You fool, what have you done. You've scared the poor woman Now you won't be even able to be her friend, she'll not trust you, you bumbling fool!" He stood in the hallway, eyes closed, the palm of his hand on her door, wishing he could take it back..

Then, the door opened. Madame Giry peeked in first, then averting her eyes toward the ground, she walked back in and closed the door behind her. It was the most daring thing she'd done in years, and she couldn't say where exactly the courage had come from or why she couldn't help herself, but she'd not felt more alive in so long.

Nadir glanced up, she was still looking down. He reached out hoping she'd take his extended hand. She extended hers. With no further thought he reached behind him, pulling the door to his room closed.

The hall between their rooms was dark. In that room, devoid of light, all that could be heard was the rush of breath as it entered and left their lungs. It took but a flash and she was once again in his arms. This time there was no doubt of their feelings. He'd not held a woman in his arms since his wife passed so many years ago…and she'd not been held by any since her husband…though they both knew what it felt like to be loved…it made it all that much harder to stay apart…for indeed, they knew how sweet love could be.

They'd paused several times, simply leaning against one another, Madame Giry's forehead on his shoulder, his cheek pressed against the top of her head. Though they had so much to say it seemed that words would have tainted the beauty of the silence. They could hardly believe it…it just didn't seem possible…they knew it would complicate their situations…so very complicate them. But they were lost in it.

Nadir leaned his head down, kissing her forehead, her cheek. She tilted her head, leaning into him. They felt like the only two people in the entirety of the world. They'd so many others to think of, so many others that depended on them, but at that moment nothing existed outside of that room. There was so much to be thought about, but in this moment it mattered little.

The pin pricked the precarious bubble they were in when a small voice pierced their reality. "Mother?" They panicked. Quickly parting. Nadir opened the door to his room, taking Madame Giry by the hand they quickly darted to the chairs by the fire. They could barely look at one another in the light of day, both blushing heavily.

"Mother?" Meg wandered over to the door, opening it she saw the door opposite it, leading to Nadir's room was ajar. She passed through and walked over to where Madame Giry and Nadir sat in the chairs in front of the fireplace. Meg was smiling. She was certain she had heard a sudden shuffle in the room.

She came around the chairs and watched as her mother's chest raised and fell, far too rapidly for someone who was to be asleep. She glanced over at Nadir. He too was breathing a little more heavily than someone who was in the midst of slumber. She stood there between them, glancing back and forth, back and forth. The next few minutes began with one singular inflection of humor...and soon, the three were laughing heartily.

Madame Giry was a deep crimson with blush, and yet she laughed. "Nadir, really, what have you two been doing, my mother is all aflush, and you yourself look like the cat that swallowed the canary!" Though Meg had her suspicions, she knew asking Nadir would do her no good. He was as he'd always been, a gentleman.

Meg realizing that her questioning would bare no fruit, offered instead an invitation. "Since the spring has seen fit to concede its position to winter just briefly, we might see to finding an indoor activity today. Perhaps once you've freshened up a bit we can gather in the parlor for some tea?" She'd no doubt that Raoul would be ordering it as they spoke.

Madame Giry being amenable to this said, "as you wish Meg." She smiled at Nadir. "Meg dear, would you accompany me, I'll need a bit of help if you don't mind."

Certainly mother, I'll be just a moment, I should like very much to apologize to Nadir for my behavior last evening." Nadir smiled at Meg, trying not to look as if he knew better. Oh, certainly she'd wanted to apologize, but he had it in his mind that she might be more interested in asking about what he'd discovered in Chausser.

Madame Giry stood straightening her garments as she nodded to Nadir, and swept back between the rooms closing the door to her room behind her.

Meg sat in the chair across from Nadir. "So, do tell me." She whispered. Nadir looked at her and smiled. In a whispering tone he mocked her, "I'd thought we'd be starting with that apology!"

She scowled at him. "Nadir, I am dreadfully sorry for my behavior, but you know better than anyone the burdens my frail mind carries even now. When we have some time we can be alone, I've much to tell you." She looked over at the door that led to the hallway between the rooms. She silently rose and went over closing it. It had never been her mother's habit to ease-drop, but Meg wasn't taking any chances.

"Perhaps later in the evening, or when the three of them are distracted by plans for the Opera House, or...well, we shall simply need to find time where we can speak freely."

Nadir looked at her, he understood completely. "I will be brief, though I'd much prefer to tell you in detail. There is an old woman in Chauesser, who happened upon Erik and Christine. She'd said strange things to him...addressing him by the name DeChagny."

Meg's hand flew up to her mouth, trying to stifle an audible gasp. "Whatever did he say to her?" Nadir shook his head.

"He'd not really been able to speak to her, she's been whisked away by her family at each encounter. Yesterday we tried looking for her but to no good purpose. Her family no doubt has taken her inside and shan't let her leave again as it seems whenever they are in

Chauesser, she's causing a commotion if she sees Erik." Nadir sighed, lowering his voice even further so that Meg could barely hear. "Erik's suspicions have yet to be roused, though he is curious about her, and has asked me to find and question her if at all possible the next I'm in Chauesser. I've promised him I'd do so."

Nadir looked at Meg. He wanted desperately to know if Christine had told her of their news. "Now Meg, there's more to say, but we should need more time. What say you of what Christine sent. Was there a note?"

Meg smiled. "Yes, a note and three gifts. I dare say I miss her terribly." Meg was looking at the floor. "This is a time in a girl's life when one needs her best friend to talk to...though this situation is entirely impossible, and far more complicated than any of us

would ever have wanted. As you say, there is so much to talk about but we need more time, and more privacy."

Meg glanced back over at the door. "I best get to my mother, she'll be needing my assistance." Meg rose, extending her hand to Nadir. He rose too. She embraced him. "I am glad for you and my mother Nadir." She smiled, looking him sincerely in the eye.

"I've not seen her this happy...laughing...in a great many years. I know that it would make Erik happy too" She let go of his hand and walked a few steps, turning around. "That is the other thing Nadir...in the box of gifts, something from Erik, with a note. I should like very much to discuss it with you." She nodded as she passed through the doors into her mother's room.

Nadir sat back down in his chair. Whatever could Erik have put in a note that he'd not simply wanted to give to Nadir to convey to Meg. He sighed. Perhaps that is why Meg wanted to discuss it with him...they were getting closer every day. They'd become confidante's of sorts. An odd place for both of them. If the objects of their affections were to find out what they'd withheld from them...the situations could turn cold rather quickly...and that is what worried Nadir the most. Secrets...blasted secrets...the power

to protect...the power to destroy...and sometimes, in the end, they did both.

**Author's Notes:**

**Dear Faithfuls:** At long last another weekend….I hope everyone has a wonderful one!

**Captain Oblivious:** I am sorry, the fires and snuggling up…if it is any consolation to you, I've no wonder-man of my own to snuggle up to…perhaps that's why I imagine it so very often! But alas, no one could measure up to Erik could they? LOL

Oh, perhaps the "super, super, senior" really has "Peter-Pan" syndrome…you know, never really wanting to grow up. If he plans to be a comedian like Jim Carey or Robin Williams, then maybe he'll make a go of it, but I dare say, his wit (Patmobile?) will have to improve or he'll be a starving "artist." Have a great weekend!

**Phantomsrogue**: Yes, indeed a longer than usual review. I do get on a roll once in awhile and I cannot help myself! Funny you should talk about sleeping in…on Saturdays, that is my one indulgence, though I must say I cannot sleep past 9:00 a.m. Unfortunately, my little brain has figured this out and has adjusted my sleeping habits, thus making it nearly impossible to go to bed before 4:00 a.m. on Friday night! So, I guess I'm really not gaining anything, but it does break up the monotony of the week…though I'm sure the neighbors think I'm crazy! I've often wondered, though I've never asked…I get strange looks from them. I think they must wonder if I live in the dark ages, or cannot afford electricity, because I rarely run about my house with anything but candlelight in the evening…alas, I confess, I cannot seem to get enough of it!

When you mentioned your love of Mozart because you came to know it in a personal way from school….there is a lot to that. I've connected with certain composers because of that very thing. I was a trained 1st soprano in my high school, and thereby learned music from a task-master type director that insisted upon a mixture of music, including some classics. It was really my instruction as a piano student that gave me a love for not only hearing the instrument (that is why I nearly faint when I see the Phantom at the piano!), but I came to love the classics from my piano teacher, she was a wonderful woman who I thought quite crazy to be teaching such a young child anything so deep, but she instilled in me a love for those historic composers that I've held to this day! All that to say…I understand what you mean!

Oh, about Batman Begins. I too am a purest. Once I've decided on something, such as a lead character, I have a very difficult time accepting anything less, it seems like a counterfeit, a betrayal to the original love, something of that nature. However, and I say this with a bit of reservation, Batman Begins is worth seeing. Bale is not my first choice in actors, but he does a good job, not so much in wearing the suit, but in the other parts…he is completely believable, and has a dark side that he pulls off well. BUT, it is truly the music that is moving. There are several scenes with him in his cave, (I won't spoil it for you by telling you) coupled with the music that make for spectacular scenes that speak to you about conquering your fears and it that finding an inner strength that you didn't know you had. So, that's my soapbox. If you cannot bring yourself to watch the movie, do listen to the soundtrack, there are a few very good tracks on it.

I might have to enlist the help of a friend to get through 'Interview with a Vampire'. If you've seen Dracula 2000, and it is worse than that, I'm not sure I can do it. It's a bit too scary for me…surprisingly since I like the dark sort of thing! Don't think I'll ever watch 'Queen of the Damned', that one just didn't appeal to me at all. I think I only like the dark male characters….hmmmm.

And of course, last but not least….finally, Meg gets a chance to read that note. Thoughtful Erik, he's always thinking of others…but you do have to wonder if there is a selfish motive here….hmmm.. Have a great weekend!

**Tex110**: I'm so glad to hear you say that you'd stick it out with us! I giggle like a little school girl when I hear that! Ahh yes…if only we could all find a man as wonderful as Erik. I know they are few and far between, but they have to be out there don't they? If I could have a Christmas wish this year…that would be all of us in our little Phamily could find someone to love and be loved like Erik and Christine….(yes, I know its too early to be talking Christmas…but all this talk about snow makes me yearn for it! LOL) Have a great weekend!

**Phantomfan13**: My goodness, I am humbled…referring people to our Phamily! That would be entirely wonderful to have new members. It is so wonderful to see our Phamily growing…just like Erik and Christine's! You mentioned the movie 'Interview with a Vampire'. Another one of our Phamily suggested it too…I am a bit squeamish, so I might have to watch it with a pillow to cover my face, and a friend to squeeze their hand!

Thank you for thinking of me in regards to publishing. It is a sweet, no, very sweet thought for you to say that. But, the least I could do is to pay for this myself, it is very expensive, and I've no idea what individual copies of the book cost even once it is published. I'm rather new at this, but I'm certainly thinking about it! Thank you so much for the encouragement.

Snowdays! Yes, I long for them too…perhaps why there is one in our story! It is the only time that I can stay at home and not go to work, and feel entirely "not-guilty" for staying home. Yes, shoveling and all that goes with it is no fun, but the being "stranded" is! But I do so very much enjoy them…..wouldn't mind one right now! Have a great weekend!

**PhantomLover05**: There is no such thing as "only chorus" my dear. Without the chorus, a song, a play, any production cannot be as sweet. If even one melodious voice is missing, it is not the same. Every part is important, it is simply that some receive more attention than others, but none are less important! CONGRATULATIONS!

I too wonder about the poor grandmother…she is such a link… a missing link in Erik's life….. Have a great weekend!


	123. Please Don't Go

Chapter 123 Please Don't Go 

Erik woke, stretching fully. He could tell without even opening his eyes that Christine was not at his side. He smiled to himself. Something about being in that room...under a blanket...clothes discarded and hanging by the fire to dry...it was unconventional...and yet it seemed so natural. The fire had been stoked so that the room was warm. He could tell by the way the logs were stacked in the fireplace, that it had indeed been Christine who'd done it. He shook his head. Perhaps she would learn to listen in time. She'd been a much more obedient pupil. Now as his wife, she took a few more liberties to rebel. He smiled.

He'd no doubt that his staff had been busy now clearing the snow, at least making a path to the house from the barn. He stood, wrapping the blanket around him. Regretting, no...wishing he hadn't left his robe in his room upstairs. But then again he hadn't planned to find himself in his present circumstances with clothes drying by the hearth. He smiled again. He was growing rather accustomed to surprises. Christine's surprises…he was particularily fond of. He knew he shan't ever grow weary of them.

He walked over to the window pushing the curtain aside. He'd no doubt that the storm raged on; he could hear the winds battering against the side of the house even before. He saw Erphan helping a man down by the gate. He'd come by dog sled, and looked rather frantic as Erphan led him on snow-shoe up to the house. The gardener had cleared a path so that they'd at least been able to get inside. Erik couldn't go out to greet him and his clothes were far too soggy to even consider putting them back on. Erik went to the door of the library and pressed his ear against it straining to hear the conversation.

"My good sir, I am dreadfully sorry to disturb your household on such a day as this, terrible storm and all, but I've just come from Chauesser. The young woman and her mother thought I should perhaps check here with you, to see if you've seen her...that she hasn't been to disturb your family sir."

Erphan quickly correcting the man's statement. "I'm not the master of the house good sir, I'd say he's resting just now, but I can assure you we've taken in no company this day sir, save yourself of course!"

Erik heard the maid come into the hall. "Hot cup of tea sir, you look frozen to the bone." The man thanked her, but refused the comfort of the parlor, he needed to be heading back. "We thought we'd make certain that she'd not managed to venture this far, and I dare say a woman of her considerable years, without a sled or snow shoes would never have been able to even make it out of the city. But I promised I'd check for them."

The man was sipping his tea. Erphan offered a warm lunch for his trip back to Chauesser, or something for his dogs, all of which he declined. "Thank you sir, I best be on my way back. The snow is getting deeper, and the winds are picking up again. The

drifts...I've not seen drifts this size in the entirety of my life!"

Erik heard the man set down the cup, thanking Erphan again. He was reaffixing his cloak. "You understand she's a bit off sir, but the town does love her. She'd never been trouble to any of us. I don't know why she'd have ventured out on a day like this, but whatever the reason I pray she's alright. It's pitiful, her granddaughter had been up all night working at the tavern, and when she came home she was gone, and her mother too. She found her mother, but they've had no luck finding her."

Erik leaned heavily against the door. He listened as Erphan bid him goodbye and wished him success, and a safe trip back to the village. Erik could hardly breathe. It had to be

her...who else could they have been talking about? If they lost her now...if she died now...he would never know...they would never know. His heart was pounding...his mind swirling. She had to be found, simply had to be found. But how many souls would put themselves in harms way to find a woman they thought to be a nuisance? Erik watched as the man went on his snow shoes back to the dog sled. Without thinking of the present consequence, Erik knew what must be done.

He opened the library doors just slightly, startling Erphan so much he nearly toppled over the hall bench. "Erphan, bid the man wait, I shall accompany him." Erphan looked at him wide eyed. "Sir?"

Erik was irritated, time was of the essence. "Do as I say young man, I'll not ask you again!" Erik bellowed, opening the doors fully and marching out into the hallway wrapped half-way up to his chest. Several maids who'd come to the hall to see what the fuss was about quickly scampered back to their posts. Seeing their master dressed, or more correctly, not dressed fully was a bit unsettling for them.

Erik took the flight of stairs two at a time as Erphan went to the door calling out to the man. He turned around coming back to the house.

Erik was in his room quickly dressing in as warm a garments as he could find. No doubt a lady's wardrobe was much more plentiful and diverse than a man's. Erik found himself wanting for the very things he was certain that weren't yet dry by the hearth. He dressed as best he could pulling on several pairs of socks and a set of boots he'd not worn in a very long time. He was dressed, and though not at all proper looking, he was fairly

certain he'd at least be warm and dry. He pulled on his coat. Covering the entire ensemble with a thick heavy black cloak.

When he turned to go to the door, he saw her. Christine standing there in her robe. Her skin damp and dewy from the bath, her hand on her chest, the other on her stomach, her cheeks wet with tears, her face pained and pleading.

Christine walked to Erik. "Erik? Where are you going?" Erik couldn't bare to look at Christine. His heart was breaking, but he needed to do it, he knew he needed to do it.

"Christine," Erik began, taking her hands into his. "The woman, the one that was at the tavern that night, the one who's granddaughter found us that night…"

Christine reached up touching Erik's cheek. "What is it Erik, what?"

He looked down into her eyes. "I know you will worry my dear, but I must go into Chauesser. The man who was at the front door…"

Christine's eyes turned frightened and wide. "What man?"

Erik was just now realizing why Christine seemed so frightened, she'd heard none of it. "The man who came looking for the little old woman. It seems she's gone missing and they feared she might have come here."

Christine's hand was up covering her mouth. "In this weather? Where could the woman have gone?" Christine abandoned Erik's hand, moving swiftly over to the window. There was a sled and a team of dogs lashed to it.

Erik joined her, looking down at the sled. "Christine, it's but a few miles, and those dogs have seen much worse I am very certain. A sled, snowshoes, warm clothing…we are quite prepared."

Christine turned wrapping her arms around Erik's waist. "Erik, must you, must you really go from here? What if something happens to you….after all we've been through Erik, would you risk our being parted….all of us being parted?" She ran her hand along her stomach.

Erik looked down with such compassion. He understood her fears. He leaned down placing a reassuring kiss on her cheek, and one tenderly on her lips, reiterating his love and passion for her. Taking her head into his hands he said, "my dearest Christine, if I did not think that a life might be spared for a bit of my own discomfort, I'd not go. No doubt there are very few men roaming about even now, and many who would not come out in this weather. If something should happen to the woman and I'd not tried to help her…" Erik was looking pleading at Christine.

"Erik, why now, after all this time…why now?" Erik wasn't sure what she meant. "You'd spent so many years removed from a life you longed for. And now, when it seems that you have nearly everything you'd wanted, why would you take such risks?"

Erik quickly realizing they might actually be on their way to their first real argument, tried to soften the blow. "My dearest Christine. In the years before you came to the Opera House, I'd made this journey countless times, but not just from this house to Chauesser, but from Paris to here, and I dare say in weather that was just as foul. The man you see outside has had much experience I am certain, traveling in this weather, for indeed one does not make that sort of investment in sled, and rails, and beasts, unless one is fairly certain of, and confident in its use."

He looked down at her, using his index finger to lift her chin so that he might look into her eyes. "Christine, I shan't go if I thought I'd not come back to you. I've been accused of a great many things my dear, but never of being a fool." He ran his hand lovingly across her abdomen. "I shan't want you worrying for their father my dear, I shall be fine. I will return to you as sure as the morning sun. If I am successful, I'll return before the sun goes down. If not, I'll spend the night at an Inn in Chauesser and return at first morning light." His tone, while still compassionate, took on a resigned tone, he'd not be talked out of it.

Christine wiped the tear from her cheek, sliding her arms around his waist and pulling him to her. She kissed his chest, as he wrapped his arms around her, placing a kiss atop her head. "Erik, I shall worry for you…it is the very nature of women my dear, we worry for what we love."

Erik smiled, she'd given her consent, however reticent it might be. "Do be careful won't you." She said as she pulled away looking at him.

"I shall my dear." Erik glanced once more out the window. The dogs were beginning to howl, they knew the storm was stirring again, gaining its second wind, and it was time to press ahead. Erik turned around looking once more at Christine. He walked over to the table by the bed, lifting a heavy volume he walked back to her, placing the book in her hands and a kiss on her cheek. "While I am gone, perhaps this will keep you company."

Christine looked down, "Great Expectations…" She smiled, looking back up at Erik, "I am quite afraid this will be of no comfort at all, it shall make me miss you all the more!"

He leaned down giving her one last kiss, and then walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Christine started to cry silently. She would worry, and nothing anyone could say or do would comfort her until he walked back through those doors. She knew he needed to do it, and she too would have felt terrible if something had happened and they'd done nothing.

That was one thing she and Erik had talked about so many times. Society had become so strange. The notion of only helping others if it didn't inconvenience oneself, had become rather the fashion, much to the displeasure of the compassionate. If Erik had not gone, he would have forever tortured himself, and Christine knew it. Yes, she had to let him go, he needed to go, it was what needed to be done. Something in her told her that she shan't see him again until the morrow, so she settled in her mind to find some distraction.

She watched as Erik climbed the back of the sled, behind the man. Erphan having brought out warm plates for the dogs, quickly collected them before the man raised his whip. They were off.

Erik glanced once more up at Christine. He shan't forget the glow of her pink dewy face as she stared out at him. She pressed her palm to the glass, mouthing the words "I love you." Erik's heart warmed, she was truly a wonderful woman…a wonder filled woman. He leaned in behind the man as the sled turned around in the yard and headed off towards Chauesser. The day was still young, but the woman had been gone for hours. There might be little hope, but he had to find her, and somehow he knew that he would…he could just feel it in his bones.

Christine watched until the sled was no longer visible. She let the curtain drop from her hand. She rubbed her hand along her stomach, and found herself humming the song that Erik had sung for her last night. She was blushing though she didn't need to. She had become a wife, a mother, and in the twinkling of an eye she'd changed from young chorus girl to woman…the woman she'd always hoped to become all along…..her angel's wife.

XXXX

Meg went to her mother who was now fully dressed, but needed assistance with her corset. Meg could tell just by the position of her mother's back, straight and stiff, that she'd no intentions of discussing what had happened between she and Nadir. Meg knew it.

Instead, Meg decided to talk about something less in need of intense discussion. She pulled on the first laces of the corset as Madame Giry held onto the bed post. "Mother, I'd rather fancied wearing the daffodil dress today, as you suggested, but it being so cold outside, perhaps you could help me select something a bit warmer, and a bit less, I don't know…a bit less formal."

Madame Giry smiled, there was much for Meg to learn. "My dear, you shall quickly learn, ladies of society do not wear plain clothing, even in the leisure of their own home. They've no house work to do, nor anything tedious of that nature. You must grow accustomed to wearing dainty things as everyday garments, though I know it will seem entirely strange to you for a long while."

Meg's eyebrows raised, she hadn't really thought about it…no manual labor? "It sounds entirely exhausting Mother, truly, no labor? Where does satisfaction for a job well done come from if you've no job to do?"

Madame Giry laughed. "My dearest Meg, that is a mystery that I shan't be able to help you with. Perhaps Raoul's sister could be of more use to you in that regard."

Meg smiled as she finished tying her mother's corset, and the ribbons on the back of her dress. "Perhaps I should spend some time with her. I've need to thank her for helping you with all the things in my room. My room…." Meg's voice trailed off.

Madame Giry turned around putting both hands on Meg's shoulders, "my dear, one thing follows another. Raoul prepared this room in hopes you'd have want to stay. His intentions are very plain. This would be a far different life than the one you've led up to this point my dear. It will take time for you to make this alteration, if that is your desire. Do not feel you must let your mind do all the work, let your heart lead you, for there you will find happiness."

Madame Giry stopped, blinking hard, and she turned away from Meg. The irony of her words falling heavily on her own soul. "Follow your heart…" she thought to herself…for she knew where her heart led her right now, and that was to the man in the very next room. Though she felt guilty for it. She couldn't be thinking of herself now.

"Mother?" Madame Giry put a smile on her face and turned around to face her daughter. "Come, let us go to that closet of yours and see what we can find that will be both warm and suitable for you. I'm certain that there will be something that we can agree upon." She took Meg by the hand and led her out into the hallway and down toward her room.

XXXX

Raoul had dressed. He'd looked out the window several times observing his staff scurrying about trying to keep the snow and wind from filling in the path they'd managed to make from the barn to the house. The horses and cattle had been out for a brief time, stamping down the snow by the barn. He'd heard the scraping on the roof and watched as sheets of snow had rained down to the ground below with a thundering crash. He looked up into the skys, it seemed that the snow was getting heavier again, and he could hear the rattle of the windows in the wind.

He turned back looking into his room. Something about it seemed different to him. It looked empty…too empty without someone else in it.

Suddenly in his heart he felt a strange pang, a tremendous urge…an urge to have this room filled with that which he wanted most, a family. He shook his head. Never in all of his life had he had such a feeling overcome him out of the blue. Yes, he'd wanted to have what he knew was required, but he'd not felt such an urge come over him before.

He closed his eyes. It was as if he could see he and Meg sitting in the bed, a swarm of young children climbing about as they played together as a family on a long winter's day. He smiled. It was a wonder to him, how his mind was shifting. He wanted a family. Perhaps subconsciously it was the guilt he'd felt for acquiescing to Meg's request to remove the picture, thereby insulting his father…it all had to do with keeping the name DeChagny alive he supposed. But for the first time, he imagined himself as a father. Whatever had caused it, he couldn't take the smile from his face. He walked toward the door to his room, glancing back toward the bed. "Perhaps someday…someday not far from now." He said to himself as he closed the door.

He walked down the hall toward the stairs, passing Nadir's door, and just as he did Nadir was coming out himself.

"Good morning to you Raoul!" Nadir said, joining him in descending the stairs.

"It is an odd one indeed my friend. I dare say we'll have much time together, as not a creature will be stirring outside today!" Raoul said.

Nadir smiled at him. He wasn't certain if Raoul was thinking about the fact that Sara was still in his stable, or if he was talking about the buildings being buried under feet of snow. Either way, Raoul's statement was correct, they'd be going no where today. Nadir glanced over at Raoul, bending his brow just slightly…was that a glimmer in Raoul's eye, a bit of a grin on his face? "Raoul, what is it that pleases you so this morning?"

Raoul looked at Nadir with a bit of shock on his face. "Whatever do you mean?"

Nadir smiled at him. Yes…it was most decidedly a twinkle in his eye. "You young man," Nadir said in a half chiding tone, "look like a man in love, with a great deal on his mind!"

Raoul's half smile now fully crossed his face, he couldn't deny it. "I must admit, though the snow is deep, and I should be thinking about other things, my mind does rest on a certain someone today."

Nadir patted Raoul on his shoulder. "I know just what you mean sir, I know just what you mean." The men smiled at each other as they came to the parlor. Madeline had placed a silver tray with rolls and a pot of tea on the table between the two divans. The fire in the hearth was inviting, and they could see the steam rising from the pot. This would be a pleasant morning indeed.

XXXX

DeChagny rolled over in his bed. The skies were still full of snow, the room was still warm and he, well, he was still tired. He'd toyed, briefly, with the notion of getting out of bed and getting dressed. Though it was not in his typical nature to laze about, there was little that could be done today, and his body bid him rest. No doubt someone would come to fetch him if he were needed.

He rolled back over, pulling the cover up over his shoulder. His mind wandered from one thing to the next not really tarrying on anything in particular, until it fell upon a spring day…the first he'd arrived in Chauesser, the first time he'd laid eyes on Claire. He smiled as he slipped off to sleep. Perhaps, if he were fortunate, he would find her in his dreams.

XXXX

Nicole and her mother had been inside for just a few minutes. Nicole's first set of clothing now dry, she quickly slipped into them, hanging the second set in their place. She'd no doubt that she would be exchanging them again. They'd attempted to eat some of the breakfast that she'd brought back, for they knew when they went out again they'd be gone a fair while, and with nothing in their stomachs, it would be dangerous. They'd be no good to anyone if they'd end up frozen or stranded themselves.

They were soon bundled up, a small bottle, wrapped heavily in leather, and another of hot coffee, pressed against their middles as they layered on their clothing. It would provide a bit of warmth for them as they moved about, and if they should find her, they would be needing something to warm her. They'd decided to take along a long rope. They'd tie it around their waists so they couldn't become separated in the blinding white of the snow as it whipped around them. Neither had want to go back out into the storm, but they'd no choice. Wherever she was, she'd be depending on them to find her.

XXX

The old woman had climbed inside the top window. She felt badly that she'd had to break the pane of glass with her boot to gain entrance, but she'd had no other choice, the sill had been frozen shut. It had been years, no years upon years, since she'd been in that attic. In fact, had the Inn not had such a tall hill behind it that filled with snow from this storm, she'd not have gotten into it at all!

She had taken some items she'd found up there and covered the window as best she could though the cold wind was penetrating the sides of it. At least she was in out of the cold, and there were blankets and the like that she could cover up with. She'd been resting there since first morning light.

Somehow, being back inside that building, she felt at home. She'd spent the vast majority of her young adult life there as an innkeeper when her mother and father passed on. She'd not married until after she'd left Chausser the first time. Her family had thought her to be a governess until she'd married. They never knew of her former life there as an Innkeeper. And in a town that guarded its secrets well, she fit right in when she returned after her husband's untimely death. Truly, there was more to this woman than any of her family had ever known.

When at first she'd agreed to be a governess for the boy, she thought he would live but a few weeks. As he grew, she'd eventually had to give up the Inn her parents had left her for she couldn't abandon him. Truly neither she nor the man had ever envisioned it; for surely they thought the infant would die within weeks of his birth. She'd taking up living in the upper floors with the boy…until he'd gone missing.

In the years after that, she had moved away and started a new life in a distant town, raising a family there. But her heart belonged to Chauesser, and so to Chauesser she had returned to spend her final days…and with any good fortune, to somehow redeem herself for the sins of her youth.

In that attic were still remnants the new owners had never seen fit to dispose of. She tired of lying about under the blankets. She dug in her bag retrieving the journal she'd kept all those years. It was reading from that journal the night before when her daughter had fallen asleep, and Nicole had left, that made her want to journey there. That dreadful day when he went missing…it haunted her, and it had been a day not all that unlike the present one.

The journal she had in her hand contained but the second half of the story, up through his sixth year…and the day he'd gone missing. But, somewhere in that attic, if it hadn't been found and disposed of, was the first book. That is the one she needed to retrieve, she had to give it to him…so he would know. She began rummaging through several boxes, a trunk, several crates, and then she remembered. He'd found the book and had started reading it…she'd taken it away from him stowing it in a safe place. She could picture the very night in her mind. He'd learned to read just months before, and his appetite for all things penned had become insatiable. He'd had the book in his lap when she'd returned from fetching them some supper. She'd taken it away with a stiff scolding that he was a melding boy and shan't be poking about in things that did not belong to him. She'd given him his supper and locked him in his room.

Yes, she opened her eyes…she remembered just where she'd put it. She walked over to the eave, reaching up over the low board that hung just where the roof met with the wall. Her hand feeling about through a tangle of old cobwebs and layers of dust and other things. "Ah, there it is…" she smiled triumphantly. "Now I've the set together…he should have them both.

She looked around the attic. It had been their home for the years she'd cared for him. A very strange home no doubt, but the need for privacy had demanded something remote, and that was as remote as one could find.

She wandered back to the make-shift bed she'd made, nestling in under the blankets. She'd have a bit of a rest she thought, before she'd try going back home. She knew her family would be worried for her. With what little light that filtered in the attic from the partially covered window, she decided to have a peek.

She brushed off the dust from the cover of the book. Cracking the cover she gazed upon the first page. Her youthful handwriting was like looking at the scrawlings of a ghost from days long passed.

"April 10, the boy, our first night at home. All of seven pounds. Coal black hair, and the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen in a baby. No doubt he'll not survive long, considering his special condition. I shall try to make his days as comfortable as possible until the cruelty this world bestowed upon him, takes him where he belongs. Grandfather is very adamant, no one's to know of his existence. He's left sufficient funds to care for him. It is sad that this situation has torn lives apart. I've no doubt that we shan't recover from it. It saddens me beyond mere words that the father will never know the truth of his son's birth…his features are so very much like him. Soon enough they will be gone from the village, and I've no doubt in several months time it will be over. Perhaps it is merciful, for the doctor assured me he'd never seen any child born like this, and I shan't expect him to survive for very long. Perhaps it is best. His cry is feeble, his lips tremble. Yes, I'll do my best to see that his last days are as comfortable as possible. He's a precious little soul, and I shall always wonder why he's been chosen to suffer so."

She closed the book, wiping the tears from her eyes. He had been a good boy…a good boy. She drifted off to sleep.

**Author's Notes: **

**Dear Faithfuls**: I am happy to hear that you approve of Madame Giry and Nadir being paired. Since we may be seeing a much more personal side of Madame Giry, I think it is time we give her a first name! No doubt Nadir will be the only one to use it, but it should be at his disposal don't you think? I've three suggestions (yes I seem to have a thing for the number three) and whichever one gets the most votes from you my faithfuls, will be the one given her. So, here's your chance to help! 1. Persephone 2. Adrianna 3. Julia. Please let me know what you think by next Monday, September 26th. Thank you for your help!

**Hoplessly obsessed**: Thank you for your kind words. I am always encouraged when I hear that I am bringing pleasure to someone else's life! Yes, publishing is something I am certainly considering…there are a couple of places that might be willing. My, my, re-reading the story? I have to admit that there are times when I go back and read a chapter or two, just to get the feeling for something else, but I cannot imagine how long it would take to re-read the entire thing! You are a dear soul! I hope you like this most recent chapter, though it does little to bring peace to their world!

**MeowLeFae**: Ah yes, consider the proverbial pot is sufficiently stirred! I realize a feline requires nine lives due to its rather curious nature. But indeed, cats, all cats, live for it crave it, need it….the very nature of intrigue gives them cause to live don't you think? For what would a cat do without something requiring further investigation? Hmmmm?

**Phantomlover05**: Wizard of Oz? That sounds entirely wonderful. I've not seen a production of that in a very long time. It is so whimsical, and yet something that tugs at your heart strings, helping us to realize that there is no "yellow brick road" that leads to perfection…that inside all of us exists the power to change our own world. It is not something mysterious, we simply need to have the courage to embrace it. We are all far more brave, more intelligent, and more compassionate than we let ourselves believe. So do enjoy it, even the difficult dance numbers!

I am glad you are pleased with the Madame Giry and Nadir pairing. It seems right to do, and one could easily see how it happened….all the time they spent together while Erik slept at Courtland Manor. They've come to rely on each other, trust each other, and it is really their commitment to the people in their lives that depend on them that keep them apart. We shall have to see how this all turns out for them!

**Phantomsrogue**: Yes, it does seem a bit eerie doesn't it…having much in common. But I think we all share an affinity for the story, so it makes a bit of sense.

Yes, if you don't have opportunity to see 'Batman Begins', at least the sound track would be good. There are several songs that won't make much sense to you unless you've seen the movie. That have the strangest way of eliciting thoughts of the movie as soon as you hear them, they are so powerful, so unique.

I confess, I faced a fear and went and rented 'Interview with a Vampire' this weekend. I set all the candles in my house aflame, brewed a pot of buttered rum coffee, and sat down at midnight on Friday to watch it. I was a bit hesitant, but in the end, it was not nearly as bad as I'd thought. It moved at such a slow pace that I think the gore factor was certainly kept to a minimum, with the exception of the rats, and a couple of other things. I did turn away a few times, something about seeing someone chew on a dead animal was a little more than I could tolerate. I agree, seeing the young girl trapped like that for a century, never having been able to enjoy the things a woman would, seemed entirely sad. Then to see where she found a 'parent replacement' in the woman so that she could let Louis go….that was sad too. The characters were good, well portrayed, and the surprise at the end when Lestat appears…that was rather interesting. I do have to say though I am not necessarily a big Tom Cruise fan, it was rather disturbing to see him dressed like that with that odd blonde hair…it did little to enhance his masculinity! And, I would have to say that Antonio wasn't half bad as a vampire either…though again, he's not my favorite. The entire experience of watching the movie, knowing it was set about the same time as POTO was a little strange. Why was everyone so afraid of the Phantom with vampires running around, terrorizing the cities! I'd certainly be more afraid of a vampire than a ghost! Yikes!

Now, on to 'Moulin Rouge', this is another I've not seen, though I think it shall be slated for this next weekend!

Ahh, Sebastian and Pyotr…they are an interesting pair. It just so happens that those two unsavory characters had been using Erik's winter house as a place to hide their "goods" since the house was left unoccupied for so long during the summer months it was a perfect cover for their "activities". I cannot say more, lest I spoil the fun!

**Tex110**: Oh my…yes…haunt us with their compositions…that would be entirely lovely. I too think about Christmas early in the year…it is my very favorite season. I don't decorate for any other holiday, but I more than make up for it during Christmas! I take three days in November and shut myself off from the outside world and decorate. I have a huge Dickens village of those charming little houses that take over my living room and my dining room, my kitchen, and several of my bathrooms. O.K., pretty much my whole main floor anyway. Then I put up my tree, stay up till all hours of the night blaring Christmas music (not the frivolous type like Jingle Bells, or Frosty) but some of the more haunting Christmas music, if that makes sense. It is one of the best three days I spend every year! Sorry, I've deviated a bit here…now I'm thinking about how Erik and Christine will spend their first Christmas….oh…..my…..! LOL

**Phantomfan13**: Yes, Meg finally got to read the note. Erik is thinking of her even now he didn't want to leave her stranded without a choice. He's rather protective of her, wanting to make sure she knows she has a choice, that she wouldn't have to stay with Raoul if she didn't want to. Sometimes people stay in situations they maybe don't REALLY want to be in simply because they feel they don't have a choice…Erik wanted to make sure she had one. He is probably the truest friend anyone could have, because though he may not say it, he's always thinking of you!

Madame Giry and Nadir are indeed a very shy couple. When you have as much at stake as these two do for the people in their lives, they don't really know how to react to t his opportunity. They've spent the majority of their lives thinking about the needs of others. When confronted with their own desires, it is very strange territory for them indeed!

The ending, I have it in my mind to, but I must tell you that it keeps changing…this is a living, breathing creature, and I don't think its ready to be finished yet! LOL

As for Raoul's father, his life is a sad one don't you think? It is hard to say what the author has up her sleeve for him…..hmmmmm.

My goodness, the Eldest, yes, I have a close friend who is also reading this book. She is really enjoying it. I'm on her list to borrow it when she's finished. We've paged through a few things together. I think this author is very interesting. I especially like how he doesn't use chapter numbers, he uses titles instead. It adds and interesting twist don't you think? The story is an interesting one. I understand he's now working on the third book in the trilogy. I didn't realize they were making it into a movie! As for Harry Potter, I've only seen the first two. I tend to watch those on video with my nephew who is a decided devotee. Now for my final confession…..I don't watch TV. Yes, its true. I will watch it if I'm at someone else's house, but I don't at home. I don't have cable, and truth be told, I don't miss it. I've been this way since I was a little girl, preferring to sit with my nose pressed in a book. My mother even bought me a dictionary one Christmas as a gift and you'd have thought she bought me a brand new toy! I was probably the only third grader who spent their holiday break reading a dictionary! I'm very odd, I realize. Maybe that's why I'm always in my own little word! LOL!

**ChristineluvsErik**: I agree, I am happy for them too! They are, as another reviewer so aptly put it, a shy couple, so their relationship, if there is to be one, may develop a bit slower than the rest, and certainly not without emotional entanglement!


	124. Searching

Chapter 124 Searching 

Erik had anticipated that the ride would be hard and indeed, it had included no less than three spills the sled having overturned, and an injured dog now rode on the sled between he and the driver.

His arms ached from hanging on to the sides of the sled, trying to balance his weight as the sled shifted back and forth as the wind blew at them. They could see but ten yards in front of them, and save for the tree line that the driver had wisely been following, Erik would have had no idea where they were.

As they passed a tree that had been topped by a storm earlier that spring, Erik knew that they were on the very outskirts of Chauesser. He carefully pulled his pocket watch from his pocket, it was noon. It had only taken them a little more two hours to travel the three miles. Considering the conditions that was very good he thought. He returned the watch to his pocket, just in time.

As they left the tree line they were hit by a gale, overturning the sled once again. "Are you alright sir?" The man called out to Erik. "Yes, I am fine." Erik said, wiping the snow from his face yet again. "Let's get it turned over, then you'd best get these animals home again, the storm looks to be getting worse."

The man nodded, rewrapping the scarf over his face as he and Erik struggled to get the sled turned upright again. Erik's side ached, and he knew he'd done too much, but there was little choice in the matter. They were once again on the sled, Erik stroking the animal who was now whimpering between them. "There boy, you'll be home soon." Erik looked down at his paw, it was bloodied and raw, but it would heal.

It was a few more minutes and Erik could see rooftops as they quite literally slid into the city. Chauesser looked like Pompeii; a great city buried to the rooftops. No houses, just a few feet of windows and rooftops between the swirled drifts. He shook his head. The woman was no doubt taken in by some other family who even now had her warm and safe, but he'd search anyway. If nothing more, he'd make his way to the tavern and find out where Nicole lived. Perhaps she'd returned home, though he doubted it.

The man nodded at Erik, "where would you like me to take you sir? My home is that way." The man pointed toward a path leading out of the city.

"To the center of the town sir, then be on your way." The man nodded, cracking the whip one last time as they made there way down the street. They passed the mercantile, and the bank, and had gone as far as the park when Erik tapped the man on the shoulder.

"This will do sir." He called out, but he was nearly drowned out by the howling winds. The man nodded, handing him a pair of snow shoes that Erphan had given him. Then he paused, and handed him a silver flask. "This will keep you warm sir." Erik looked at it hesitantly at first, but then took it. He hoped he'd not need to use it, but it was wise to have in case he did. He nodded to the man.

"Do take care." Erik leaned down scratching the dog behind the ears, and patting his side. He whimpered and licked Erik's hand. "I shall be needing a ride back to my home if the woman is found sir, but if not, and the weather remains fowl, I shall stay at the Inn sir, the one by…"

The man was nodding, "yes, I know it well. Nicole is a friend of my daughter sir, that is why I agreed to venture out today."

Erik nodded, it made perfect sense to him now. "Thank you sir," Erik said as he stood at the man's side, trying to get his footing on the snowshoes. The man nodded, and yelled, MUSH! The sled lurched forward, leaving Erik standing alone in the middle of the street.

Erik looked around. He'd start at the Inn. If nothing was known there, he'd inquire as to their residence, and move his search from that point. He'd come to do what he could. That was the easy part, the actually doing it would be more than difficult. He started off toward the Inn. He'd not worn snowshoes in a great long time and it took a bit of finesse to reacquire the skill, though in two blocks time he'd mastered it.

XXXX

Madame Giry sat across from Nadir next to Meg. The four of them tarried with the pot of tea, and half-eaten rolls between them. They'd just finished laughing over an exchange of stories they'd had about snowball fights that each of them had engaged in during their youth.

It had been the only time that Raoul had ever been punished when he was at preparatory school. He'd hit a boy in the ear, causing him to shed but a few drops of blood. His father, feeling Raoul had sullied his family's fine reputation for engaging in such activities, had punished him by sitting him down with the dictionary, making him write definitions from it for whatever word had come to his mind.

"I think that is the longest my father and I ever spent in one another's company when I was that age. He'd banished the rest of the family to other rooms of the house, and he and I sat in the library from the time he'd brought me home until it was time for bed. No supper for the wicked he'd said, as he watched me over his desk with great zeal whilst he devoured his dinner and I wrote. I dare say there were words that I'd not heard, nor have I heard since. Really, do tell, when does one use the word zither, magnanimous, or filches?" Raoul laughed. "It is an adolescent memory none-the-less I suppose."

The laughing subsided, and a silence filled the room. No one knew exactly how they'd spend the day, though this wasn't entirely un-enjoyable.

Madeline arrived, providing a distraction. They'd known she was busy, but it wasn't until she beckoned them to join her in the dining room that they could see what she'd been up to all morning. She set out a feast for them. Five place settings, assuming that Raoul's father would join them at some point. The table was filled with a variety of sweet, and a tureen of what proved to be the most heavenly beef stew that she'd made since last fall.

"I do not hope you mind at all, that I've displayed everything at once sir?" She said as Raoul came to rest in his chair.

"Not at all Maddie, no doubt you've much work to do to prepare for everyone. Do not worry, we can serve ourselves. You go have a bit to eat yourself. Sit, rest a few minutes before everyone else comes in to fetch their dinner." Raoul said smiling at her. He'd known she'd been doing the best she could considering everyone else was outside.

She smiled at him. "And a plate of those cookies sir, for you here on the buffet when you're ready." Raoul smiled, "thank you Maddie, now you go." He said shooing her from the room.

Raoul stood at the table, offering grace and then taking up each soup bowl and filling it at the tureen handing it back to each one. The bread had been neatly sliced by Madame Giry, and Meg and Nadir had taken it upon themselves to put dishes of the winter fruits in the saucers that Madeline had set by the plates. When all was ready they sat down to a most agreeable meal. The warm stew was a perfect treat on a day like today. It was a treat considering with any fortune at all, a week from now the snow would be entirely gone, and in its place a slew of mud. Today they would try to enjoy what would surely be winter's last hurrah.

XXXX

Outside of the kitchen Madeline had just helped the rest of the men load the large pots of stew onto the sled. The assorted breads and rolls loaded into baskets, along with a number of pies, and a cake for dessert. They'd have their own coffee, so she'd not had to worry for it. She shivered as she closed the door, returning to her own lunch in the kitchen.

She sighed as she sat down at the small table in the corner of the kitchen. Everyone would be fed, and she'd have a few hours before she'd have to tend to supper preparations. She dipped her spoon into her stew. Indeed, it was a good one she thought as the broth crossed her tongue. For her this was pleasure. Knowing she'd done her job, and that everyone was at the moment content, she could ask for little more in terms of reward. She'd been doing what she was born to do, and it suited her.

XXXX

Christine did not need to be proper. With no guests expected, and today, her skin felt a bit more tender than usual. The fabric was decidedly not very flattering, but she'd no one to impress…today, comfort could be the rule, not the exception.

She set her mind to going through the many sheets Erik had brought from the mercantile. They'd need three of everything just to be certain. She'd start with selecting a crib she thought. But then there was something entirely sad about separating the little ones when they'd grown so accustomed to being together. Perhaps the first crib would be a rather large one…one that they could all fit in together. But then again they'd wake one another other…hmmm…Christine instinctively rose, she'd go and ask…. She found herself laughing, then a melancholy took over her. Madame Giry wasn't there, nor was Sara, the only women she'd have felt comfortable asking such a seemingly silly question.

She missed Madame Giry terribly, and Meg. Suddenly Christine felt very, very, alone. She decided perhaps visiting with the maids in the kitchen was preferable to sitting up in her room alone. Erik would no doubt approve. Christine smiled. She'd need to find that book he'd been reading. His ideas were new and forward thinking…and dared say she was intrigued by it. What truly was the essence of transcendentalism? And who was Walden? If she and Erik were to be of like minds, she'd have to at least read what he'd read, so she could understand. Yes perhaps after her visit with the maids she'd set about looking for the book, he had to have it there somewhere.

Christine was walking down the stairs, pausing to look out at the snow through the large ornate windows on the landing between the first and second stories. Erik had set each pane in the stained glass himself. One of his numerous projects over the years, when he'd visited there on his way back and forth from visiting Nadir. He told her of it with great fondness as he gave her a tour of it in the moonlight.

The blowing and swirling snow concerned Christine, she raised a silent prayer, "let them be safe Lord, let them be safe."

Just then, Christine heard the grandfather clock in the study below chime twice. She smiled, thinking of her own father, it was like he was speaking to her. It was two o'clock, certainly they would have arrived by now. She slid her hand over her stomach, "daddy is very brave my dears, very brave indeed. I hope that you have his courage when you grow." She rubbed her hand along the tiny lump once more and smiled. He'd come back to her, he'd promised.

She turned and was heading down the steps when a sharp white light flashed before her eyes, and everything turned toward black. Christine, in her last seconds of consciousness grabbed onto the banister, sitting herself down on the stairs, leaning against the rail.

She was soaring, flying high into the swirling snows, traversing great distances in a few seconds time. She was soon in a city, it looked like it might be Chauesser though she couldn't say for sure, the snow obscuring her view. Suddenly she found herself inside a small structure, exposed beams, old trunks, discarded treasures from a life long past. She was walking towards a small pile of old horse blankets. As she approached, she saw a face, a non-descript face of an elderly woman. As she stood watching she saw the woman's face begin to glow, and the flesh that had been wrinkled was smooth and supple, her hair growing dark…she began to look like Nicole, Christine thought to herself. Suddenly Christine realized who it was she was seeing, and it was as if that recognition catapulted her back to the stairs at the winter house in an instant.

She was sweating profusely, the maid was calling out her name through the fog of her mind. "Madame…Elizabeth…can you hear me?" Christine could hear her though she couldn't respond just yet. "Oh dear, the master's just left, he'll not forgive himself if something's happened to her." The maid was panicked. She was patting Christine's hand, reaching up tapping at the sides of her cheek.

Christine struggled, she needed to get back….she gasped. "She's in the attic Erik, she's…." Her eyes flew open. Within inches of her face sat the young maid who'd been tending to her.

Another had joined her just behind, bringing a cool damp cloth to dab at her forehead. "Who's Erik mum?" Christine's eyes fluttered. "A friend no doubt," the one maid said to the other. "Here, let us help her to the divan in the parlor." "NO, I'm sure she'd prefer the one in the library, there's blankets, and a lovely view of the front of the house there." The other said.

Christine found their conversation a bit irritating, she'd make up her own mind. "Ladies, I'm quite capable…" she said, though her knees betrayed her as she tried to stand. Perhaps she was a bit more spent than she'd thought. "I should like to go to the study. I've a book I'd like to find, perhaps one of you could assist me?" Christine leaned on the young girl's shoulder as they walked along the hall toward the study.

"Thank you Misty. I suppose I should be looking into a proper breakfast shan't I." She said laughingly. She could hardly tell any of them what was on her mind…she only hoped that Erik would look in the attic, it is where he would find her, she was certain of it. She'd had half a mind to send Erphan into Chauesser to find Erik, to help him, but she didn't want to risk another life in this storm. Certainly Erik would be thorough, it was in his nature to be such.

Misty assisted Christine to the divan, quickly going to tend to stoking the fire as the room was a bit chilly. "Now mum, what book is it that you be looking for?"

Christine bristled just slightly, Erik was indeed right, they'd need to brush up on English and grammar.

"It is a book that Er…Stephan has been reading. A book by Walden…do you know it?

Misty smiled. "I don't mum, but I think I might know where he keeps it, I've seen him opening and closing this drawer whenever he's coming or going from this room mum. Perhaps it is in here."

Christine glanced over to where Misty stood. She looked at the girl who was smiling politely at her. Christine just stared, she'd no idea why Misty simply stood there smiling at her, and then…it dawned on her. "It is alright, I'm supervising you, please do have a look." Misty smiled at her reaching out to pull on the drawer but it would not open, it was locked. "I'm sorry mum, he's locked it. Perhaps we could look around on the shelves, I was probably mistaken."

Christine stood walking over to the drawer, rattling at it. It was indeed locked. She wondered whatever he would keep in there that he would keep it locked. Certainly it wasn't money, he'd a special hiding place for that, he'd already shown her. And the keys to the other things that were locked, he'd shone her those as well. This one, was something he'd not mentioned. She was all too curious, but she'd not pry, there was a reason for it, or it would not be locked. She shook her head, still, it was odd that he'd never spoke of it, and she'd never seen him in the drawer. If Erik needed his privacy, then she should grant him that. He'd given her access to everything else in the household, denied her nothing. Yet she wondered. Something told her that she might learn more about the man she loved from the contents of that drawer than from all the fragmented conversations they'd had about his past. She shook her head, she couldn't, she wouldn't, it was his privacy, she'd have to learn to respect it.

"Mum?" Misty stood looking at her. Christine looked up politely. "Yes, I suppose, he's likely to have it somewhere else. Perhaps I'll have to wait and inquire when he returns." Christine took Misty by the arm, still a bit unsteady on her feet. "Come, let's go to the kitchen. I believe I saw a bushel of apples on the counter, and I am assuming you're up to making something entirely wonderful from them. It's been a long while since I've baked anything, would you mind terribly if I helped you?"

Misty's eyes grew wide. "Not at all mum, whatever you wish." She smiled at Christine as they left the room. Christine took one last glance over her shoulder at the desk. The drawer hid a treasure, she just knew it.

XXXXX

The winds howled, swirling around the little snow cave that had become his temporary home. He'd managed to start a rather small fire, though the winds threatened to blow it out at every turn. He'd put the horse on the other side of the carriage so it wouldn't spook from the fire hissing and crackling as the flurries of snow flew over the top of it. He'd warmed a bit of coffee and some of the meats that were in the basket that had been packed for him.

He wondered how he'd ever found himself in such a place. How desperate his life had become. Why couldn't he simply have been born a poor man's son, working on a farm? Or the son of a blacksmith, a tailor, anything would have been preferable to his present plight. His whole family gone…and nothing but the gut wrenching need to avenge them to keep him company. He gritted his teeth, pulling the blanket up further around his ears. This couldn't last for days, it had to let up, it was spring after all.

When first he could move about, he'd find a farm, a hot bath, and whatever else he needed for he and his horse. He'd no money, no funds to procure any of it, but if he'd not be given it freely, then he would do what he'd always done…take it anyway.

XXXX

DeChagny flung the blankets off of him, he'd warmed himself far too much in his room, and now he was a sweaty mass of flesh. He stretched, wide awake now, and no dream as he'd hoped for to comfort him. The house creaked and moaned as the storm seemed to batter it from all sides. He stood, walking over to the window to look outside. He rubbed his hand across the frost-covered pane. Outside he could see Raoul's staff busily working to keep the path between the house and the stable open. They'd put the horses back inside with the heaviest work now done. They worked with shovels to keep the path open. He was entirely glad that he was a man of position, and didn't have to be out in that cold shoveling that snow in the howling winds.

He scratched at his stomach as he stretched, then he patted it. He had grown rather hungry. He picked up his pocket watch from the table next to his bed. "Three o'clock," he said to himself. "How shameful, I've slept the day away." He grumbled disgustedly. No doubt his body had needed the sleep more than the sustenance, even more than he realized. He walked over to his armoire. He'd dress and go downstairs. It was too late for lunch, and far too early for dinner, but he'd no doubt he could find something to nibble on. That was the one benefit in being in a busy household, food of all kinds were available in abundance at nearly any hour.

XXXX

Erik pulled himself along, trying to shield his face as much as he could until he'd finally made it to the tavern where Nicole worked. It had been several blocks only but it felt like miles in that excruciating bitter wind.

There had been a small set of make-shift stairs carved into the snow, no doubt by the stable boys who huddled by the door. It made traveling down the side of the snow mound much less difficult. Erik paused at the crest, removing his snow shoes, nearly being blown down into the gully on his head by a northerly gust that pushed down between the buildings.

He lashed the snow shoes together and slung them over his back. The two boys came to his aid as he maneuvered himself down the stairs. "Good day to you sir…if you are in need of lodging I'm to tell you that the Inn is full, but there is one just down the way that…"

Erik held up his hand. "No need young man, I've come looking for Nicole, is she here?"

The two boys looked at one another. "No sir, haven't you heard, her grandmother's gone missing, I'm quite afraid she's gone out looking in this weather…she and her mother."

Erik looked at the ground. He didn't know where to go from there. He didn't want to waste precious time searching places they'd already been. "Has she stopped here, does anyone know where she's been, where they were going?"

The one boy started nodding, "why yes, as a matter of fact, she'd told Mr…." Erik nodded, thanking him as he walked by him on his way inside. He knew just who he'd be looking for.

XXXX

Nicole and her mother had made it as far as the church. There was a small gathering of farm folk who'd been stranded in town and had neither the means nor the desire to stay at one of the overcrowded inns. They'd holed up with the reverend in the rectory. That is where Nicole and her mother now found themselves warming by the fire. It was entirely peaceful there, a smallish group of about eleven people, not including them. They'd not much food, but offered what they did have. Nicole and her mother were grateful that they'd already eaten, so as not to deprive this group of what foodstuffs they did have for themselves. They'd already discussed eating the communion bread and drinking the wine if it came to it. They were entirely certain, that under the circumstances, God wouldn't mind.

After the reverend had said a prayer over Nicole and her mother for their safety and for that of the grandmother, they sat quietly around the fireplace.

Among the group there were three small children and two adolescent boys, one girl, and two sets of parents. They had been reading bible stories all morning to pass the time. Not that they minded it at all, but they'd thought it would be nice to hear someone else speak for a time, so they began asking questions.

"How old is she?" one little boy ventured. "Does she know her way home?" another asked. The questions came and went most answered, some not, until the parents hushed them. It was obvious that it was painful enough to have her missing, but to go through a grand inquisition was just as trying. They decided it would be entirely more productive for them to try to help by devising a plan, rather than simply sitting there doing nothing.

"I'm happy to draw a map for you, if you'd like. It might be difficult now with the snow so deep, but generally, it will be true. We can mark off on there the places you've already been, and the places you think she's likely to go. Then it will be easier to decide where to go next, and where you might warm up on the way," one man said to Nicole's mother.

Nicole moved the hand she'd been using to warm her nose. Perhaps it was a favorable idea. They'd simply been wandering from place to place, and it was not at all efficient. With time passing quickly, and the weather so foul, it made sense to have a plan, lest the day slip away from them.

Nicole went with the man over to the reverend's desk. He'd already cleared it for them, and now had several large sheets of parchment on top.

The man sat down looking up at Nicole. "I'm truly sorry for this miss, she was a happy old woman, and I can tell that you loved her dearly," he smiled pitifully at Nicole, and then turned his head to his work. He'd dipped the pen in the ink well, placing the point on the parchment drawing the first of several long lines. "This is main street here." He said pointing to it. Nicole nodded. She was grateful. Though the man couldn't leave his family, his wife was with child and not well, he'd do what he could to help find her grandmother.

Author's Notes:

**PhantomFan13**: I do like Julia. I noticed another one of our Phamily stated that she'd been referred to as Antoinette in some of the other stories Perhaps I'll have to do some Leroux surfing to find out if she did indeed have a first name…I'd forgotten about that.

I do love musicals of all types, though I must say I once attended an "interpretive" musical on the eve of my birthday one year. A friend and I went out for a lovely dinner at a Jazz club in the city, which we'd planned to revisit for a cappuccino after the musical. As it turned out, the tickets that this friend purchased were to an interpretive musical. I must tell you if you ever see "interpretive" in front of the word musical, run in fear. It was nearly the three most excruciating hours of my life, and once we were done with what was to be a two-hour production, turned to three, the club had closed, so we'd no cappuccino to soothe our souls! So, yes musicals, but I must say I'm much more careful about reading the fine print now! LOL.

As for the four little productions at school…look at it as a new adventure. Think of it this way, you'll have four opportunities to play four different characters, and embrace four different plays instead of one! It might be much more enjoyable than you imagined!

Moulin Rouge, yes, it's on my list for the few hours of sleep-deprived madness that I have scheduled for Friday evening!

PhantomsRogue: As ever, you are right. 'Interview' did provide a gothic opportunity to look at the different types of vampires that there were. So many assume that they would all be like Lestat…for he was to be the quintessential vampire. Just as in any society, they too had outcasts, one's like Louis who could not abandon what moral strings he'd attached to his heart. It made his character nearly as gut wrenching as the Phantom, perhaps in some ways more so, because he would go on forever, no hope of ever becoming mortal again, no way of seeking forgiveness, of being redeemed. Perhaps that is why our little story has become so important to me…we are slowly, layer by layer, redeeming the Phantom…

Thank you for the warning about the one scene in Moulin Rouge. Yes, that sort of thing does tend to bother me, but as long as I'm prepared, I can manage to work through it…thank heavens for remote control! I will be looking for all you suggested. I feel like I've just had an "insiders" preview!

Also, thank you for the 'heads-up' on the name for Madame Giry. I'll have to check Leroux, perhaps he did make mention of her first name, and I'd simply neglected it somehow!

**Poetzproblem**: Thank you for the compliment on the chapter. Yes, we do get a bit more insight into Erik as a youngster…And yes, as Erik has evolved his is becoming a bit more "selfless" as you said. Though I think in this case, he has a very serious ulterior motive for wanting to save this woman. He wants to know why she'd addressed him by that name, of all names….he loathes the name DeChagny and the two men who he knows of that have it.

More evidence of Meg and Raoul coming closer together, yes…


	125. Drifts, Tears and Good Men

**Chapter 125 Drifts, Tears, and Good Men**

"Now, fold it just there, like this," Misty leaned over helping Christine weave the layers of dough on the apple strudel they'd been making. It was nearly the dinner hour now, and they'd made all things apple. A pie, apple and pear sauce, an apple bread, and lastly the apple strudel that would be the pastry for breakfast the next morning. The house smelled of glorious cinnamon and spices, and a warm aura had settled in just as much from the camaraderie as for the apples and spices that had been employed in making all of the delectable pastries. Christine tucked in the last layer of the strudel and was ready to place it in the oven.

"No mum, we'll bake that first thing in the morning for you. Your surprise for Stephan when he returns." Christine smiled at Misty, her face dotted here and there with flour. There was really not more than a few years difference in age between them, yet Christine felt decided older.

"Thank you." She reached out and touched her hand. "I think he shall be most pleased," Christine raised her eyebrows, chuckling under her breath, "and most surprised I should say." In all the time that they had been together she'd not made him a single thing…and she felt a bit guilty just now. He'd given her so much, surprised her at nearly every turn. The many things he'd done over the years to bring her happiness, to cheer her, to comfort her. Perhaps she'd spend the rest of the day thinking up little surprises for when he came home. She smiled. Several things came to mind, and if she had time she'd do them all.

"Thank you Misty, thank you for sharing the kitchen with me and instructing me on preparing this." She said pointing at the strudel. "I think I should like to retire to the library for a bit of tea perhaps. I'm not feeling all that hungry yet, but perhaps later I should like a bit of soup or whatever you are preparing for yourself."

Misty smiled at her nodding. "And might I say mum, it was a pleasure to share the afternoon with you." She blushed slightly, hoping what she'd say next was not too forward. "It's been a long while since I've had someone closer to my own age to visit with. It was most pleasant for me, if you don't mind my saying so."

Christine smiled, at her, reaching out to touch her hand. "I understand, I miss it sometimes too. When Meg was with us it was different, it seemed we'd spent hours just conversing about the trivial." Christine's eyes were lost in one of a dozen memories. "I do miss her company."

Misty's smile faded. She had the feeling a bit like she'd caused Christine suffering for mentioning it. "I'll see to your tea mum. Is there anything else that I might bring for you?"

Christine drawn back to the present, without hesitation said, yes, if you don't mind, could you bring me the shirt that Stephan was wearing this morning?" Misty's face took on an inquisitive scowl, "mum?"

Christine glanced at Misty, quickly realizing the request would seem strange. "You see, I miss him, it will bring me comfort in his absence." Christine was subconsciously rubbing her hand on her stomach.

Misty cocked her head to one side, "are you feeling alright mum?"

Christine looked at her inquisitively. "Yes, quite." Then she realized Misty was glancing at her mid-section. Christine thought quickly, "perchance I am a bit hungrier than I thought…perhaps a bit of bread with cheese with the tea?"

Misty nodded, turning around with a small smirk on her face. She had a hunch, though she would say nothing.

Christine brushed off the flour from her hands, and walked over to wash her hands. She would change the subject. "What is it that one does here when it snows?" Christine inquired looking over her shoulder at Misty who was busily cleaning up after their projects.

Misty replied, "this is only my second year with Stephan's household mum, but I can tell you this past winter, we'd been given a list of assignments in preparation for the master's arrival. We'd been polishing silver, dusting every nook and cranny, and we spent a considerable amount of time on the new piano in the library. It took much time to restore it to what you see now."

Christine turned, wiping her hands as she took off the apron. "It was damaged?"

Misty was sweeping up the flour from the floor, she glanced up, "it had been through something, a fire, a storm, or severe neglect, whatever it was, he was insistent that it could be saved. I did have my reservations when first I saw it, but in the end, he was right….it was a beauty, and most worthy of restoration."

Christine smiled, yet another finely woven piece to the obscurity of all that made Erik. He was constantly surprising her. She'd seen sides of him these last few months that she'd never known were there. She began to wonder if she'd ever really known the man Erik was. He was like a labyrinth. Complicated, yet beautiful. Perfectly designed, intricately detailed. Within him was a great mystery, so well hidden one might spend a lifetime trying to discover its many secrets. "I see," Christine said. "Had they not prepared for him this way in the winter's previous?"

Misty shook her head, "I shan't know mum, but I'd a sense that they'd spent a great deal more time than usual, as if he was planning to fully occupy the house, not just pass through as he'd done so many times before."

Christine sat down in one of the chairs at the table. Could it be possible? How could he have known….was he planning to leave…without her?. Christine's stare turned blank, her eyes moving rapidly.

Misty came to rest at the table across from Christine, "mum, you look dreadfully sad…I am sorry…I'd not meant to…."

"No, no…I am quite alright. Perhaps I should retrieve the shirt myself while you prepare the tea. I should like it in the library in ten minutes, if its not too much trouble." Christine stood, her hand quickly moving to her face to cover her mouth, she longed for the privacy of her own room, and only hoped she could make it there before she began to cry.

Misty wasn't sure what she might have done to end the conversation so abruptly, but it served as a reminder to her that no matter how close she felt to Elizabeth, she was still her master's wife, and though they were close in age, she was still her employer. Misty went to sink to draw the water for the tea.

Christine made it out into the hall, nearly stumbling on her dress as she mounted the stairs quickly. The other maid was just coming down the stairs. She'd tidied up the master chamber and was bringing down the items that needed to be washed.

Christine saw hanging out of the edge of the basket, the very shirt she'd been talking about. Reaching out she said, "may I?" She pulled the shirt from the basket, and continued on to her room. The maid looked after her inquisitively but Christine did not stop to offer an explanation.

Once the maid had carried the basket into the washroom, she came into the kitchen. "Misty, whatever is going on with Elizabeth? She's just snatched a soiled shirt from the basket!"

Misty smiled at the woman. "Whatever do you mean?" Misty hoped some day Christine would take her into her confidence. She wouldn't be caught gossiping about the house. That was one piece of sage advice she'd learned from Sara….dear Sara.

The elder maid shook her head. The household had grown so strange since the monsieur was awake…nothing was as a normal household any longer, she thought to herself.

Christine burst through the doors. Flinging them closed behind her. She found herself sobbing, prone in the center of on the bed, wrapping Erik's shirt around her, rubbing it gently on her cheek. She inhaled. His scent permeated her senses, and if she closed her eyes it was as if she could imagine she was lying safely in his arms, her cheek pressed against his chest, her favorite place in the world.

She was weeping, and she didn't understand why. Yes, he was gone, with good reason. Yes, he'd promised her he would return, and she knew he would. Yes, she carried their happiness with her wherever she went. Yes, she'd made him a treat for his return. Yes, there was much to be happy about, so why then did she find herself whaling as an discontent infant? She was angry at herself. She was being entirely irrational.

Of course, she wondered why the winter house had been prepared to such great extent for his arrival, but Misty herself had confessed that she'd not been there but one winter, perhaps that was normal, per usual even. In all that he'd done for her, did she really think he would have abandoned her? That thought made her cry all the more profusely.

She beat her fists on the bed. "STOP, stop this!" she repeated over and over under her breath. She used Erik's shirt to dry her tears, and each time she'd thought she'd finished, a fresh wave of tears came yet again furthering the gut wrenching feeling she had in the pit of her stomach. Her mind wandered to every irrational thought she could have. Maybe he'd been preparing to leave the Opera House for good, not being able to take the pain of thinking he would never have her. Maybe he'd lost patience waiting for her. Maybe he'd just needed time away, to clear his head. Maybe he'd wanted to start a new life without her. She began to sob ever harder. She quit trying to fight the tears; she'd cry herself dry. Each effort had proved futile, now there was nothing to be done but let it run its course.

Time was a curious beast. What seemed like hours, could just as well be minutes only. In one's agony and torment, a few minutes could seem to be an eternity. Christine was laying in a pool of tears, Erik's shirt entirely soaked. Her breaths came in fitful stuttered gasps, and long exhalations. Her eyes now puffy and rimmed in red. Her lips soaked and swollen. She reached out for the pillow that Erik slept on, pulling it to her. She rested her head on it, pulling the fullest part between her arms, and nestling her cheek onto the center.

She missed him, missed him terribly. She'd not been separated from him for this long since they'd been married. Yes, he'd slept those two months, but even then, she could reach out and touch his hand, his flesh, any time that she wanted, day or night, and she must confess she had. The nights he'd slept she'd wandered into his room, just to touch his face, to kiss his lips, to trace hearts in the palm of his hand. She'd been able to love him though he couldn't return the affection. Now his physical absence was an excruciating chasm for her tender heart.

She clung to the pillow, rubbing her hand along it. She closed her eyes. Exhaling slowly. She needed to calm herself…her rantings could be of no good use for the children. She'd someone other than herself to focus on now. She exhaled slowly. Trying to revisit the dreams that gave her comfort when he slept. Concentrating, she was leading her thoughts as if a child by the hand, orchestrating the very next thought.

Ah yes, the dream….the details becoming more firm, the gray areas filling in now with backgrounds and sounds, she could almost smell the sea. She was walking along the beach, Courtland Manor in the background, Erik with a girl in one hand, a boy on his shoulder…it was a lovely dream….she drifted off to sleep. She'd exhausted herself…and the sleep would make time pass more quickly.

XXXX

"I'm quite afraid they've been gone for some time sir, I'd heard them make mention of venturing to the church….the woman frequented the church.." The innkeeper was looking at Erik. He'd provided him with a steaming cup of hot milk infused with espresso and a bit of cocoa. Erik sipped from it heavily, trying to calm his shuddering from the change in temperature. "I know they've been down to the mercantile, the library, and the gardens in the park she so often visited, there is a cove in the amphitheater that remains exposed in the snow. I'm certain they'd stopped at all the places in between to inquire. I would suppose they'll head to all of the inns next, just to be certain that someone hadn't taken her in."

Erik was nodding in agreement, "that would seem reasonable. It is also entirely possible that the woman may have found her way home, if not under her own power, then perhaps by another kindly soul. Perhaps I'll check there first." This was Erik's chance to find out where she lived, and he knew it. "Sir, where did you say that they lived?"

The innkeeper hesitated, he hadn't said, and he certainly was not in the habit of giving out such information…under normal circumstances…but then again…these were anything but normal. "Sir, they live just two doors down, the upper level of the house, their flat is in the back half."

Erik tried not to smile or indicate any pleasure in having received this information. "Very well," He sipped the remainder of the cup and handed it to the man thanking him. "I'll be on my way then." Erik started to re-bundle himself. "If the women return, do make them stay, it is far too dangerous for them to be out in this weather. Do tell them that I shall come back here to report what I've found if anything. I shall start at their house, and work methodically to the north, house by house, and then at the edge of the city, I'll turn round, starting back down the opposite side until I return here. Please convey that to them won't you?"

The innkeeper nodded. Erik extended his hand, thanking the man again. The innkeeper shook his hand, looking at Erik, he paused, he felt compelled to ask.

"Sir, I know it is not my business, nor place to inquire, but of what interest is this woman to you that you would leave the comfort of your own home and travel into the city to search for her? It is at great cost to yourself and your young wife that you'd venture to do this."

Erik looked around the room, it had fallen silent. He knew at once he'd an audience of much greater size than just this one man. For not even one other man that now sat in the inn had offered to search. They were already in Chauesser with decidedly little else to do but wait out the storm.

Erik inhaled, looking with great intensity at the man, his jaw squared, his shoulders tall and set. His response would resonate in their minds for a long while after he departed. "My good sir, every life is worth something to someone, you've but to look into Nicole's eyes and you will see it. All that the evils of this world require to triumph, is for good men to do nothing." With that Erik wrapped the last of the scarf around his face. He opened the door, a bitterly cold wind swirling in behind him as he pulled it firmly shut.

The innkeeper watched as Erik climbed the frozen stairs carved into the snow making his way out onto the top of the drift. He turned around, no one had made so much as a sound, all eyes were upon him. "We need more men like this in Chauesser my friends, more men of courage such as this." The men sitting around the tables began to nod, offering gestures and words of agreement. More like him indeed. But they knew in their hearts, there were few men like him.

XXX

DeChagny had dressed and now descended the staircase to the parlor. There was no one there. He walked down the hall, there the four of them sat in the library, casually sitting around the fire. Nadir was reading to them from an old book. He'd been recreating his own rendition of the story, voices, facial expressions and all. As he entered the room he could tell they'd been there for some time, a pot of tea, a nearly empty plate of cookies on the table, and napkins daintily draped across their laps. They were captivated by Nadir's reading. They all paused, turning to look as he walked into the room.

"My, someone is a late riser!" Nadir said. Decidedly the only one in the room who would have had the moxie to make such a statement without fear of a bristling rebuff.

Madame Giry quickly rising and sliding down on the divan to make room for DeChagny to join them. He smiled at her politely accepting the invitation.

Ever dutiful, Madeline appeared from around the corner. A fresh pot of tea, an additional cup, and a plate with bits of meats, cheese and a crackers. He smiled at her. "Thank you Madeline."

She flinched, "you welcome, Monsieur." She smiled as she turned around, it had been a long while since he'd addressed her by name. Perhaps the snow and the sleep had altered his personality temporarily she thought.

DeChagny lifted the tea to his lips, blowing to cool it slightly. He nodded at Nadir, "do not let me interrupt, it's obvious you've an enamored audience sir, do go on."

The group glanced at Nadir who smiled, "very well sir, if you insist." He opened the book, repositioning his spectacles, "now where were we, ahhh, yes…."

XXXX

Erik finally pulled himself over the banked snow into the gully that the pine tree provided. He'd had to push aside a mound of snow to open the door but it had yielded easily for which he was grateful. Once inside, he brushed the snow from his cloak, stomping his boots. The woman in the flat on the main floor opened the door just slightly peeking out of her door. She quickly pushed the door shut, she'd entertain no visitors. Erik paid her no mind. He slowly climbed the flight of stairs to the door at the top. He paused, out of breath, knocking first. When no response came he pushed on the door, it was unlatched.

He felt a bit like he was back in Persia, slipping into houses without their masters present, though today his purpose was decidedly different…he was there to help. He walked in closing the door behind him. "Is anyone here?" Erik called out.

He walked over to the stove; it was cold. The fire in the hearth was nearly gone, the room was beginning to chill. Leaning down he put another log in, pressing it to the back of the fireplace. He walked from room to room looking in closets. He found no one.

He was struck by the simplicity with which they lived. No comfortable cushioned divans, nor much in the way of finery. Not at all what he'd imagined…but then imagined things are always flawed. He looked at the clothing drying by the fireplace, they too were simple, functional but nothing more. When all of this was over, perhaps he could see to improving their situation slightly, though he was sure they'd be proud, he'd find a suitable way. He paused looking out the window. In but little more than an hour the sun would set, thus turning this churning tangle of snow and wind into an impassable wall. He had to move on.

He found himself once again climbing through snow drifts, passing from one house to the next, to the next. No one had seen her, no one could offer any assistance, they really didn't know the woman, save the few strange encounters that they might have had with her over the years.

It was just after he'd left the last house, having taken yet another cup of hot coffee, that he saw something that intrigued him. Across the street, on the upper floor, he could see something fluttering out of the window at the rear of the house. If nothing else he could alert the man of the house that he'd a broken window to tend to lest snow drift in and cause damage. Yes, this would be a deviation from his original plan, but it wasn't far, and if he continued on the street, he'd not reach that house until well after dark, and he'd no desire to wait that long to tell the owner.

Erik's legs were tired. He'd put on and removed his snow shoes so many times he'd lost count. Now his inner thighs ached from the strange pull of the muscles as he worked his way across the street to the house. He made his way to the front door, buried nearly half-way up. He knocked several times. He'd observed no movement nor sign that anyone was at home. Perhaps they'd been stranded somewhere else.

Erik sighed, he had half a mind to continue down the street, return to his original path. But something tugged at him. If he could do no more than pull something across the window for the man, he'd feel a bit better. He'd hope someone would extend him the same courtesy if the situations were reversed.

It was a difficult journey, moving up the hill, side step by side step until he found himself at the window. He could tell that someone had attempted to cover the window, though not very well. Erik easily pushed the small mirror out of the way, the snow caked blanket that had been hung there falling stiffly to the floor. He heard a moan. Erik moved in quickly leaning the mirror back up against the window temporarily. He looked around, he couldn't tell where it had come from . He waited, listening, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the attic. Someone was in there, he was sure of it, for an animal didn't make sounds such as this.

XXXXX

Nicole and her mother were bundled once again. A map in their hand, the plan emblazoned in their minds, lest the map be lost in the storm. They'd head to the tavern first, and then to their flat, and then on up to the North. It had been the one part of the city that they'd not been in, truly, the old woman had avoided it.

XXXXX

Courtland Manor sat quietly under a blanket of snow. They'd not seen such gales from the water in a very long time. The snow was deep yes, and though the drifts were high, and the winds howled, there was evidence of the storm slowing slightly. They knew all too well that if they'd received this much snow, that if the storm had made it that far, that the winter house would certainly be under feet of it.

They'd thought themselves to be the less fortunate of Courtland's staff, having to stay behind in such a quiet state, but now they were thinking themselves to be the fortunate ones. There was really no way of knowing how long it would be before everyone would return to Courtland Manor, but they did hope it would not be that long. The house was far too quiet for their liking.

The lone stableman had made his way out to the barn for the second time that day. There was a mare in labor, and no doubt there would be a foal by morning. He'd watered and fed all of the animals. They'd become rather restless in the stable, not being accustomed to being restrained in the building for the entire day. He'd taken them out two at a time for a bit of exercise, but it was difficult as the area he'd been able to clear was fairly small. He'd check once more on the mare, and then make his way back to the house for a good supper. He'd no doubt that he'd be spending the night in the barn, for he'd been anxiously awaiting this particular foal. It was sired by Stephan's horse, and his mother was of a royal bloodline. This horse would be most prized in the stable, and he didn't want to miss its arrival.

Author's Notes:

**Captain Oblivious**: Nice to hear from you. Yes, busy as a bee I'm certain. And do take care of yourself, sore muscles can turn into injured muscles….do be careful. Christine's visions…this one in particular, it's hard to explain except to say it demonstrates how connected she feels to Erik…hmmm…that's really what I was going for. I can only imagine being that intensely in love with someone…sighs in resignation The old lady…I cannot tell you anything about her yet…I'd spoil the coming chapters! LOL!

**Tex110**: By the middle of October I hope to be able to return your words in French. I think I've mentioned that I'm taking a French class with a friend…part of my preparations for going to Europe! I am so intrigued by the language, as it is part of my heritage! In the meanwhile, I'll use English…thank you for the compliment! I am glad that you are able to fit in a bit of reading with your heavy work/school load. I remember those days well…little sleep…mounds of homework…who had time for anything else!

PhantomsRogue: Darned…I'll be up until the birds chirp on Saturday morning…I might just skip sleeping altogether on Friday night I'd forgotten about 'Le Chocolat', I'll have to rent that one too. O.K., I'll try making it through the scene in 'Moulin Rouge', though I will have my trusty pillow handy in case I'm overwhelmed! I forgot to mention I was quite impressed you'd had the quote from the movie 'Interview' memorized. It was a disturbing comment that Antonio's character made…I am a Christian myself so it was hard to hear someone say, though you could see why they would wonder, that they knew nothing of God. Pairing that comment with the twist of Dracula's origin in 'Dracula 2000' you can see why they felt so tormented by the subject. If one became an immortal being, incapable of redemption, you would wonder why you'd been cursed so if there was indeed a merciful God….it is such a dark part of that story. It was interesting that Louis, having heard that statement, walked away from him, seeking his vengeance on the lot of them…still enough of his human nature in him to transcend the darkness that had befallen the rest of them. O.K., now I've ranted on that long enough! I just think there are similarities to the characters written about during that period…truly the beginning of a genre that has endured and evolved into some of the movies we see today. Though I must say the originals are by far much more intense and intriguing than anything that is written in the modern day. O.K. Done. Promise.

A note about Madeline's language…yes, I see what you mean. Some little tid-bit will be tucked into the story about that…glad you picked up on it!

**Diveprincess**: Hello….I'd thought maybe you'd returned to the Bahamas to live with the dolphins! Nice to hear from you. We miss all of our Phamily that have gone off to school again. No doubt studies and whatnot are keeping everyone busy. Ahh yes, Erik has left…he needed to…but return he shall, though to his Christine I'm quite afraid! LOL. Take care of yourself, and I do hope all is going well for you.

**PhantomFan13**: Yes, I am one for dropping fragments in story lines…a bit like Hansel and Gretel…leaving a trail of bread crumbs behind! I like to return to them from time to time to pull the strings up on the story if you will…sort of like fastening a corset! The drawer…ahh yes…the drawer…I do know what's in it, though I've been sworn to secrecy by Erik! LOL.

You've got quite a reading list going there…I too like to re-read things that I fancy. I am always picking up on something I missed…I do enjoy it so.

**Crayann**: Hello again to you! I understand what you mean about anticipating the next chapters. I think I shared with you a series of books that I'd begun reading when the author was on the eighth installment. It took me a part of a summer to read all that led up to it, and I was ravenous whenever I had the time to read. Then…alas…when I'd finally caught up to the current volume, I was at a fevered pace and it was simply excruciating waiting for the next book to be published!

Thank you for your encouraging words. I love to hear from readers who are enjoying the story thus far. It has become quite a journey for us hasn't it?

Now, I was intrigued…you'd mentioned my other stories….hmmm…I've only this one…perhaps you've confused me with another author?


	126. Blankets and Blankets

Chapter 126 Blankets and Blankets 

Madeline came into the library as Nadir was reading the last of the story. "Poor little Oliver, it did seem fitting that he'd found his calling in the end. It would be years before he'd discover what hidden talents the toils of his youth had produced, for one day he'd be penning a story of a poor little boy himself! The End."

The group was clapping. "Well done sir, well done." DeChagny said to Nadir. "I should say that was excellent. I've not heard that story well, since I believe Raoul was a young lad, his mother used to read it to him."

Raoul smiled and nodded. That is precisely why he'd not objected when Nadir had settled upon that story, though he'd told no one.

"Dinner served, you come." Madeline said, taking on a bit more formal tone with DeChangy present. She flashed a smile at Raoul, and he nodded to her. "Dinner done, dessert served in drawing room, please, you, Raoul there half past eight."

The group turned and looked at Raoul. His father being the first to inquire, "and what of this? Dessert in the drawing room?"

Raoul smiled walking past his father, extending his arm to Meg. "You shall see. With Madeline's kind indulgence, I've a surprise for our guests this evening." He smiled down at Meg, leaning down to put a kiss on her forehead. Meg blushed, Raoul had not displayed his affections in quite so public a way before. "Shall we my dear?" Meg smiled, slipping her arm in his, rising to join him.

Madame Giry had only glanced once at Nadir, and was preparing to follow Raoul and Meg into the hallway when she heard Nadir clear his throat. She looked up and there he stood, his arm extended. "Madame Giry, would you do me the honor?" Madame Giry smiled, and slipped her arm in on his, the pair following Raoul and Meg into the dining room.

Madeline stood in the doorway. DeChagny was still for a moment before uttering a singular "hmmmp." He then followed the others. He was not accustomed to being left out as it were, but tonight he felt like a fifth wheel on a carriage designed for four.

XXXXX

Christine woke, the damp shirt cold against her skin. She'd no idea how long she'd slept but she knew it had been a long while as the sky was starting to turn; it would be dark within the hour. She doubted very much that she would see Erik tonight, indeed she hoped he'd find somewhere warm to sleep in the city, she shan't want anyone to be out on a night as bitter and unsuitably cold as this one.

She rose from her bed, meandering over to the fire. The staff had allowed her privacy she could tell, the embers in the hearth were nearly spent. She put a few smallish sticks in first, and blew on them just slightly. It took but a few breaths and the kindling was a glowing orange. Carefully she positioned several smaller logs on top, waiting and watching as the tender bark took to the flame. Then she'd positioned one larger and two smaller logs on top of that, just the way her father had taught her.

She sat keeping watch to be certain the fire would keep going. As she sat there, the glow of the fire shown in her eyes. Though her skin began to feel warm from the growing flames, she felt bitterly cold inside. She shuddered. She began rubbing her hands together, trying to warm them, holding them out then to the fire. Though the flesh became warm, she still felt cold, though she knew she shan't. She sat down in front of the fire, her legs crossed. Using the poker she pushed the logs about in the fire, trying to further encourage their progress. In truth she had hoped that the warmth that emanated from the hearth would soothe her chill, but it did not. Perhaps it would take a bit of warm tea, and a bit of soup.

Her emotions had gotten the best of her today. Perhaps this was an extension of that confusion. She'd take in some supper, and tend to the writing she'd intended to do for Erik. The thought of being wrapped in the blankets in the library below was an inviting one. She smiled to herself. She rose rather quickly, making her feel a bit light headed. She reached for the chair. She'd a pain in her side, just below the hip bone. Perhaps she'd risen too quickly, she'd have to be more careful. She could almost hear Erik's scolding words in her mind. She smiled. He would be as exhausted as she was by the time the children were born, for certainly his worrisome doting would weary him.

She slipped on her bed clothes, and a thick robe of Erik's she'd retrieved from the closet. Then she stopped. Smiling yet again, she removed the robe and the night dress, preferring to slip on the night shirt Erik had worn the night before. The maid had missed it when she'd collected the articles earlier. Erik had hung it on the handle of the door to the water closet. It was Christine's good fortune to have found it since his other shirt was a cold damp rag in the center of their bed now. Slipping on the night shirt and then his robe, made her smile a bit more. It was as close as she could get now to being in his arms. No doubt it would elicit strange looks from their staff, but she didn't mind. She had need to explain her actions to no one.

She made her way down the stairs to the kitchen. "Misty?" The young girl stood from the table where she'd been eating her own supper. "Mum?"

Christine walked over to her. She'd been dining alone, the other staff having already eaten and she'd just finished the supper dishes herself. "Are you ready for some dinner mum? I've some hot soup, and some bread if you'd like, or I could make you something else, whatever you prefer."

Christine smiled at her. "My dear, please do finish your dinner. No doubt you've had a very long day, what with entertaining me all afternoon, and then seeing to your own duties."

Misty smiled, "no, I do insist. You've had a difficult day mum, and you're just recovering from not feeling well. Please do sit in the dining room, I'll have dinner for you in but a few minutes." The girl was in motion before Christine could protest further. She looked over at Misty's half-eaten bowl of soup, and the book she'd been reading laying face down on the table. It was the one she'd selected when Erik had given all the staff a treat at the mercantile. Christine pointed to the book, "do you mind at all if I have a look at your book?"

Misty smiled looking over her shoulder as she began slicing the bread. "Not at all mum, it's a wonderful story."

Christine smiled as she glanced at the first few pages. She'd pulled out the chair across from Misty's at the small servant's table and sat down. She flipped through several more pages. "Do you find the reading difficult at all?"

Misty flashed her an inquisitive glance. "No mum," she smiled at Christine. "I know that I rarely speak what one would consider perfectly proper English, but I do tend to find books of more advanced vocabulary a bit more intriguing."

Christine smiled at her. Perhaps she could become a tutor for the rest. If she was able to read with some ease at this level, she could certainly make use of this skill. She'd talk to Erik about it when he returned. Next Saturday was the appointed day for the dinner he'd suggested having with his staff. Perhaps there they could do some planning for how this might all take shape.

"Mum, I'd be happy to serve you now." Misty had everything loaded on a small tray and was walking toward the door leading to the dining room.

Christine looked back at Misty's dinner. "Would you mind terribly, if I'd join you here? There is no sense in the two of us eating alone in separate rooms. I should dare say I wouldn't mind the company."

Misty smiled at Christine, neither would she. She brought the tray back sitting it down on the table in front of Christine. She sat in her chair, waiting for Christine to finish saying grace. When Christine looked up, Misty was already dipping her spoon into her soup. They'd be forging a new friendship, she could just tell.

XXXX

It took a few minutes before Erik's eyes readjusted to the light. He began to walk around carefully looking behind the armoires, the large trunks standing on end, the discarded dressers.

Over in the corner under the eave, the last corner he'd yet to explore was a large pile of blankets. If nothing else, he could certainly make use of them to block the window on the way out of the house. It would be a shame for a drift of snow to ruin the items in the attic.

The more he moved about in the attic, the stranger it seemed to him. He could hear things, see things, it was like the room was occupied. He shook his head, it was his imagination, surely a result of being out in the snow and wind. He carefully made his way over to the blankets.

A razor sharp memory flashed through his mind and it was gone. He pictured a small cot, several blankets, and a small wooden box under the bed. A half-burned candle stick, and book on a tiny nightstand beside it. He felt an eerie shiver crawl up his spine. He'd suppressed so much about his life before the Opera House, and at some point in his life….fiction had become as real to him as anything, it had been his singular escape. He couldn't be certain what he was remembering….truth or tale, or if it was merely his creative mind at work.

He reached out, taking the first blanket off the mound. He heard it again, a low guttural moan. He dropped to his knees. There, under the large pile of blankets was the woman. Erik's eyes grew wide. He sat back on his haunches, heaving a great sigh from his lungs. He'd found her.

He took her hand into his. It was deathly cold, and limp. Erik reached down putting his hand along the side of her cheek, it too was cold, but the warmth of his hand made her head turn towards his palm. For a fraction of a second her eyes opened, and he saw the pleading in them. There was something about those pleading eyes…..they seemed so familiar, though he was certain in all his travels he'd never crossed this woman's path.

She gave a weak cough, trying to turn her head fully. "Rest woman." Erik said. He had to figure out a way to remove her from that room, return her to her daughter. Nadir could visit when he'd returned to Chauesser. Right now all Erik could think of was her survival, questions could come later.

He stood, looking around the room for something suitable. He rummaged through trunks, looking at an oversized drawer from the dresser, but that wasn't large enough. Finally Erik spied a discarded narrow door leaning up against the back wall. "Perfect. He untied the rope that he'd wrapped around his waist. Quickly lashing the rope throught the hole where the handle had been and tying it to a post. He'd use it as a sled once he had her on it. He'd use the rope that tied his snowshoes together to tie her to the door so she'd not fall.

Erik went over taking off layers of blankets, placing them on the door. When he'd reached the last two that remained covering her, she feebly reached out her hand, her eyes barely open. She was trying to speak.

Erik leaned his ear closely to her lips. He could barely hear her. "The books, you'll want the books." Erik thought her to be hallucinating, but she tugged at his shirt, pointing down beneath the blankets.

Erik lifted the edge of the blanket, and there, underneath, were two very well worn leather volumes. He lifted them into his hands, tucking them into the bag on his side. "I'll see to giving these to your daughter mum." Erik whispered as he reached down trying to lift her into his arms. "Wait.." she said. Erik thought he was hurting her, so he gently put her back down. "I must take you from here, you'll freeze, the storm is great outside, you need a warm bed and hot soup." He reached down putting his hand along her cheek, it was so very cold. He put both hands on her cheeks trying to warm them.

Inside, from somewhere, he felt compassion for this woman, no doubt it had been Christine's influence on him. Compassion was not in his nature, and it was strange beast…wrestling with guilt of a different kind. He knew how to handle…to suppress…the feelings for all he'd done in Persia…but this was so different…nearly as unsettling. How can one care for someone one barely knows? His mind was rushing.

"No, I must….I must tell you." She said her voice losing strength. Erik leaned down out of respect for this elder woman. "The boy is lost, I've waited here, but he's not come back." Erik thought she was hallucinating again.

"Dear woman, there is no boy, we must get you somewhere warm," he leaned in to lift her once more.

"No! The boy went out in the storm…I couldn't find him…no one believed me." Erik's heart sank…was there a small boy running about the city in this weather? Is that why she'd gone out? "What boy mum, where is he, did you follow him here?"

The woman did not respond. Time was of the essence. If there was a boy, he'd see to finding him. At this moment he needed to get her somewhere warm before she'd no chance of survival. He bent down scooping her up into his arms, blankets and all. He walked over trying to put her on the door as gently as he could. He pulled the blankets up around her, using the rope to lash her to the door. The door was narrow and would quite easily fit through the window. He'd have to come back to cover the window, his first concern was this woman.

As he bent down to begin lifting the door she started rambling. "We lived here…the boy…your boy…" Erik knew now she was hallucinating….he'd been with no woman other than Christine, he'd had no boy. His heart sank. She was indeed nothing more than disturbed. Perhaps all of his efforts, the coincidence of the name, had all been nothing. Either way he'd spared a family the pain of her loss, and that was a far greater thing that he'd done.

She shook her head, "take the books, they'll tell you of him," She smiled feebly at him. "Start with the red one. Give them to no one, only you will understand….promise me," she pleaded. Erik swallowed, his brow fixed and pained…. "I so swear." Erik said. Then she fell limp and silent.

Erik looked down, holding out his hand he could still feel her breath. She'd fallen asleep, or perhaps was beginning to succumb to the cold. He needed to hurry. Slipping the door through window, he wedged it into the snow so that it would not slip down the hill without him. He unlashed it from the post, tying the end about his waist, and slowly took up the slack with his hands. The woman weighed very little, but combined with the door, it would be a struggle. He took in a deep breath, put on his snow shoes, and put one foot at a time out into the snow. It was a distance, and he'd have to cover it quickly, the sun was fading, and so was the woman.

XXXX

"Thank you Madeline, that was entirely wonderful." Raoul said to her as she collected his dinner plate.

"Agreed," said Nadir nodding as Madeline took up his dinner plate as well. Madeline uttering the customary, "you most welcome."

DeChagny had eaten his portion with vigor, his bit of an earlier snack not slowing his consumption. The ladies of course, having eaten only half of what was served them, nodded as Madeline cleared their plates.

The group sat looking at one another as Madeline took the last of the plates. "I do hope this snow lets up tomorrow, I've much to tend to in Paris," Raoul's father said, drinking the last of the wine in his glass.

Nadir nodded, he too would hope that the snow would provide a reprieve. He needed to see to taking care of Sara. It had been far longer than was acceptable to keep her from the ground, and he was a bit ashamed though it was not his doing.

"Perhaps Raoul would be kind enough to allow us to take one of his sleighs into Paris once the snow subsides. I do so very much need to relieve his stable of its current unwanted occupant." Nadir said, looking between Raoul and his father.

"How true." Said DeChagny. Madame Giry and Meg were both looking down in their laps. Sara had been a good friend, a trusted companion those many months, and they'd no wish to dishonor her in this way. It seemed that the circumstances were unfavorable at every turn for this poor woman, even to finding her lasting rest in her final place.

Madeline came around the corner, nodding once more to Raoul. Everything was ready. "Come, please join me." Raoul stood, going to Meg to assist her from the chair. He extended his arm to her, which she politely accepted.

Nadir had temporarily turned his attention to Madeline, they were discussing something in earnest. DeChagny stood, quickly making his way over to Madame Giry, extending his arm to her. She looked up, blinking, lowering her head, she inhaled, but knowing no alternative she stood, smiling and accepted.

Nadir was just turning around having finished his conversation, to find DeChagny escorting Madame Giry into the hallway. He had a surprised scowl on his face, "what on earth…" he muttered under his breath. Walking out in the hall behind them. Nadir thought to himself, DeChagny could benefit himself from the company of a good woman….just not THIS woman.

XXXX

Christine had wandered down to the library after she and Misty had finished their dinner. She'd taken several sheets of paper from the supply in his stationary. She stood just looking around the room. The night before it had been filled with such happiness, such passion, such love. Now there was but a vapor of Erik's presence there.

She pulled his robe up more closely under her chin, rubbing the lapel along the side of her cheek. She was warm, full, and safe. She frowned slightly thinking of Erik moving about in that terrible storm. The doctor had warned him to keep his flesh covered once the weather turned cold again, she hoped he'd remembered his admonitions. The new skin that grew on his cheek was fragile, and he'd need to take care to protect it.

Christine sat down at the large desk. It had a drawer in the center, from which she withdrew an inkwell, and a writing instrument. Her mind quickly wandering back to the drawer that they'd found locked in the library. It was as if her mind could focus on no other spot in the entirety of the house that she had access to but that one locked drawer. Whatever could he want to hide there? From her? She shook her head. It did little good to spend time worrying over it, surely he'd explain when he returned.

XXXX

Once in the drawing room, the group found five chairs surrounding a smallish table in the center of the them. The room had been rearranged a bit to accommodate Nadir's request. At the center of the table was a large cut-crystal bowl of considerable size. It was one of Raoul's favorites for parties and gatherings…it had been his mother's. The group gathered around the bowl, staring at its contents as if it were a fire set out when one travels the countryside.

On the table just next, there was a tray with assorted cordials, as well as the 12 year old bottle of sherry-cask brandy that DeChagny had brought in from Paris the night before. DeChagny smiled, it was just what the doctor would have suggested had he been there himself! The dessert wasn't the cordials, nor was it present. Raoul had something entirely wonderful up his sleeve, and it was fitting for a night just like tonight!

As everyone took their places, DeChagny and Nadir choosing chairs on either side of Madame Giry. She was feeling a bit uncomfortable for the first time in days as the two men looked at one another. She'd not be in the middle of any sort of silly competition or game. Life was entirely complicated enough without this sort of distraction.

Raoul stood, smiling at the group. "Since we've no where to go this evening, and Madeline was kind enough to prepare this for us," he said sweeping his hand around the room, "I thought we'd have a try at it. We could play card games, or some other activity afterwards if we are still inclined, but I'd like to try this first if you'd indulge me."

He looked at them with a smile. Not one had any idea what they were about to embark on, though Raoul was certain they'd thoroughly enjoy it.

His father had risen from the chair and was serving cordials; he hated not being in control. He, made sure to offer Madame Giry a glass before anyone else, smiling as he passed Nadir to hand it to her.

Meg and Raoul glanced at each other, suddenly feeling like they were outside of an imaginary triangle looking in. Everyone having a glass in hand now, Raoul began to explain. "I shall go first, as an example." Raoul averted his eyes, giving Meg a wink as he turned his head, dipping his hand into the bowl retrieving a piece of the folded paper.

Meg's heart fluttered….Raoul was flirting with her!

Raoul unfolded it, looking down he read out loud. "What fruit is your favorite? Do explain." Raoul smiled, "My favorite I should say, is the cherry. It is a sweet dark fruit, it comes from a lovely blooming tree, and the fruit itself is beautiful, and not available in its peek form but a brief season each year. Also, it was my mother's favorite fruit." Raoul smiled, and sat down. "Now, Meg, what say you that you select the next piece of paper?"

She smiled at Raoul, dipping her hand into the bowl. She unfolded the paper, she nearly laughed. "Tell us about the first time you had chocolate and what kind. Who if anyone joined you." Meg hadn't thought about that in a very long time. "It was with my father. He'd taken me down to the chocolatiers just down from the park…it's not there anymore…it was just a tiny shop. We had a wonderful dark chocolate truffle…" She smiled. "We were there picking out a few for my mother, she hadn't been feeling well, and he wanted to bring her a treat… Do you remember that mother?"

Madame Giry raised her hand to her cheek, "yes dear, I do."

Next was DeChagny's turn. He was skeptical, but he'd not want to be viewed as a spoiled sport. He dug his hand deep into the bowl, swishing the contents about as if it were water and he was washing the bowl. He withdrew his hand, shaking it so that only one piece remained in his hand. Unfolding it he breathed a sigh of relief, it was not too personal. "What is your first memory of riding a horse, and what color was it?" He laughed. "I was four, my grandfather had an old mare, as gentle as you please, as steady as a fence post. He propped me up on her back in a saddle and led me about in the yard. I thought I was so grown up, in my fancy knickers and all." He smiled.

Madame Giry looked at him. "So, what color was it?"

He chuckled, "it was brown, a lovely brown." The group laughed.

Next was Madame Giry. She, being the ever proper and dainty woman, withdrew the first paper she touched as she put her hand in the bowl. Unfolding the paper, she blushed swallowing hard.

"Well, do go on," DeChagny said sipping from his glass.

She closed her eyes for a moment, gaining her composure. "When was the last time someone made you genuinely smile, and do share the circumstances." Nadir blushed, Madame Giry blushed. She could hardly speak. They both knew exactly where, exactly when, and exactly who, but for all the discretion in the world, she couldn't speak of it. She stammered, "I suppose just moments ago when Meg recalled the memory of she and her father at the chocolate shop." She said looking down.

Meg grinned at her, though that was a sweet memory, she could tell her mother had something else on her mind entirely.

Next was Nadir. He too swished the papers around in the bowl. They all had a grin on their face. Madeline was peeking in the door, smiling herself. She'd made up questions she thought they might enjoy, and so far it seemed to be going well. She would wait to bring in dessert until Nadir had taken his turn. She nodded to the other maid who went to the back door to retrieve it. The cold wind howled down the hall as she opened it, dislodging a rather large bucket from the drift just outside.

Nadir unfolded his paper, looking down he began to chuckle, it couldn't be possible. He rubbed his chin. "When last did you find yourself in an embarrassing situation, and do tell how you remedied it." Nadir cleared his throat. He too knew when, who, and where, but he'd not be sharing it. He was as red as a beet. "I suppose it was when I standing on the edge of the carriage when I arrived last night, and the wind howled behind me, causing my cape to fly up behind."

Meg looked at him, "Nadir, how is that embarrassing? I do not understand."

Nadir was back peddling, "well, you see my dear, the poor men and women looked at me as though I were a ghost, the various looks of horror crossing their faces…it wasn't until I'd stepped aside and talked to the carriage driver that I realized that he was just as frightened, and I said to him, "do keep a stiff upper lip young man!" He looked at me…indeed a poor choice of words considering a corpse was riding in the back of his carriage."

Nadir looked around, the group had fallen silent. "I found it to be embarrassing…"

Raoul looked at Nadir, this game was rapidly taking a turn for the worse. "I think he should draw another one, what say you?" "Here, here!" And Nadir found himself digging in the bowl again.

At that moment the drawing room doors opened, and in came Madeline, a tray of tall stems, a lovely vanilla ice cream in each dish, covered with a beautiful layer of brandied cherries. The woman behind her held out a flame to each one lighting it. The room just glowed. "Cherries jubilee!" She quickly sat one in front of each of them. Raoul, his father, and Nadir having had it before realized the liquor would quickly burn off. Madame Giry and Meg having not, tried to politely blow out the flame, which made the gentleman laugh. As Madeline left the room she realized she'd brought it in at exactly the right time. The flames were flickering out as she pulled the door closed. Perhaps she could see to dinner for herself now.

**Author's Notes:**

**Dear Faithfuls**: I do apologize for my unexpected absence yesterday…it could not be avoided. This chapter is a bit longer than most…perhaps you shall forgive me!

**Captain Oblivious**: My, my, yes you are obsessed my dear! I can tell that the "force" is strong with you! LOL. Self defense training is an arduous task, but oh so necessary this day and age! I'm starting on this myself next month, though I must say I'll be starting with strength training first…no use in learning maneuvers that I've not the strength to carry out…I could see it now…I attempt to defend myself only to have a would-be attacker fall to the ground in fits of laughter at the inefficacy of my tactics! I suppose either way they'd be disabled, but I'd not want to embarrass myself! Oh…how easily I am side-tracked!

Yes, that kind of love….I hope it finds me someday…I've been listening to Kelly Clarkson's CD…there is a song 'Hear Me'…pretty much describes how I feel about the whole thing right now….I'm ready…but he's not here…. sighs resignedly

Have a great weekend…try to get some rest…. I know dorms don't allow for much privacy…but a hot bath would be good for your aching muscles!

**Phantomlover05**: Yes, she is a worried little kitten isn't she? He promised he'd return to her….now it's a matter of time…. Have a great weekend!

**Crayann**: It is alright my dear…I have moments where I confuse people for someone else… "these things do happen" (to quote Firmin from POTO!) No doubt with so very many authors out there, it is hard to keep them all straight especially when we are all writing about the same thing! I am happy to hear that you are enjoying the story still…it has grown rather large hasn't it? Have a wonderful weekend!

**Tex110**: Yes, French…after all I am French so I ought to know the language…though I do not live in France! I am so looking forward to it…there is so much in French literature that I would love to read without translation….something is always missed when it is translated. It truly is the language of love! I too know a bit of German…some I learned from my grandmother when she was alive….I can count, tell someone please and thank you…and of course…I love you. For some odd reason, that is one of the first phrases I want to learn whenever I take up a new language….something about my fatally flawed personality I guess…..LOL! I do rather look forward to reading a few other fanfics about POTO when I am done writing this one…I'd love to see how other people feel about this subject matter! Oh and yes…poor Christine…she misses him so…but I have to say if he were my husband….I'd be missing him just as much….sigh….. Have a great weekend!

**PhantomsRogue**: I have a feeling I need to re-watch 'Moulin Rouge' and also perhaps the second disk, as I think perhaps there is more on there that would explain the characters. Now, I do have to admit it was 2:00 a.m. when I was watching the movie, so I could have easily missed some of the things I should have caught. I didn't catch the Chocolat person….alas. Madeline's language…I think you might find it is duly altered once again with this chapter….something I shall have to fix in the previous chapters when I go back through to do revisions! Have a wonderful weekend….

**PhantomFan13**: Colds are no fun…they give us that achy, nagging feeling… When I have one all I want to do is to crawl into bed with a good book and a bowl of soup…actually, truth be told…I like that scenario even when I'm feeling perfectly well! LOL! Yes, Erik will have an encounter with the old woman…I can say no more though just yet!

Titanic…it is a haunting story isn't it? I recall seeing it in the theater multiple times. It stayed in the theater in our town for two months, and had large crowds right until the last night it played! It loses something having to watch it on the small screen, but it is still very poignant! And yes…it is some of Celine Dion's best work to date! The graveyard…that would be very interesting, though very sad to visit. I can recall visiting the memorial at Pearl Harbor in Hawaii when I was there. We actually walked out on a catwalk of sorts that was right over the ship just feet below the surface…it was so very eerie to know that there were people actually entombed there…I think death in any sea-going vessel is especially sad…there is something so formidable about the ocean…it is so very unforgiving!

Enough on the morose…. Have a great weekend!


	127. Splintered Hopes

Chapter 127 Splintered Hopes 

Nicole and her mother left the church, map and a bit of hot coffee tucked under their cloaks. They'd lashed themselves together around the waist. Now with darkness falling, and the winds still as ferocious as they'd ever been, the task was going to be even more onerous.

The group in the church had bid them well, saying a prayer over them before they left. Truly few in the church thought they'd find the old woman alive. She was known for her erratic behavior. They having to rescue her from here and there at all hours. She'd never seemed to find her way home, or at least they didn't think so.

One of the men posed a suggestion, which was quickly dismissed out of hand, that she'd have done them a favor if she'd gone off in the blizzard to die. Perhaps then they would be able to get on with their lives. He thought Nicole too fine a young woman to be tied to such a situation, no hope in site of marrying under those circumstances. He'd been chastised by the rest, but still held his opinion, it was an utter shame as far as he was concerned, and that was his account of it.

The first gust of bitter wind flung their cloaks high above their heads, swirling and whipping around behind them like pairs of mighty black wings. They, immediately wishing they'd tied the rope around the outside of their cloaks rather than the inner. They'd made it to what they believed was the main street, though everything was obscured by the mass of snow, the likes of which neither had ever seen. They'd head off to the tavern first. Surely if anyone in the area, or anyone that knew them would have left word there had they caught site of her.

They pushed on through the blinding snow until they came to the beginning of the edge of buildings that would lead down to the tavern. They'd have a distance to cover, and they couldn't stay too close to the buildings lest they fall into one of the gullies that had been carved into the snow by each shop owner. They'd not expected company nor business, it was out of mere survival for the air that they'd done it.

They'd passed just two other lonely souls out in this storm. One was a man who'd gone to fetch medicine for his wife, and another who'd been a good Samaritan cleaning off the tops of chimneys of all he could reach. Neither of them had seen her.

"Mother…" Nicole called out to her. She did so several times before she finally tugged on the rope alerting her mother to stop. She stood still while Nicole caught up to her.

"Do you think it best we stop at home first, collecting more supplies in case we've news that someone has seen her, then we could leave from the tavern?" Her mother had her repeat it three times before she could hear all of what she'd said.

"Nicole…we must stop..if she's been found, there will be no need to resupply. We shall stop there first." Nicole was insistent.

"Mother, we really should, we've but a few more doors and we'd be home, what if she's made it there, then we've no need to go to the tavern."

They were at odds…both ways seemed right. Her mother pulled Nicole close. "If you feel that strongly, then I suppose it will do no harm." Nicole tried to smile at her mother, but her face was far too chilled for any expression.

They forged on passed the tavern. Looking down in, they could see that it was full, and the warmth did look inviting. No doubt their flat would be cold, the last embers having gone out by now.

They nearly slid down into the gully by the front of their house. The old pine that they'd always complained of by the door, was their protector now as they reached for the door that would have decidedly been buried had it not been there for shelter.

Pulling themselves inside, they were at once thankful for the reprieve from the frigid temperatures and piercing winds. They shook out their cloaks, stomping their feet to remove the last of the snow from their boots.

Nicole started up the stairs, looking down at the curious puddles of water on each plank. Her heart skipped a beat, wondering…then her heart sank just as quickly at the realization that it was probably someone who'd come from the tavern to inquire. When she reached the top of the stairs she found an even larger puddle.

"What on earth." Her mother said as she joined her on the landing.

"I'm entirely certain it was someone from the tavern mother, no one else would have come here."

Her mother looked at her sadly, she knew she was most certainly right in her thinking. Nicole put the key to the door, remembering she'd not needed it, she hadn't locked the door in their haste.

Opening the door, she and her mother quickly went inside. They'd expected the room to be cold, but it was actually quite warm. Her mother looked at her, then down at the floor. There were puddles of water inside as well. They both dropped their cloaks running into the other rooms, "Grandmother!" "Mother?" They flew from room to room, looking under beds, in the closets. They stood, breathless in the center of the living room holding each other.

"I don't think she was here, she'd never be so foolish to go out into it again!" Her mother was trying to calm Nicole who'd begun crying. She was exhausted, terrified, worried. An immense sadness had settled upon her heart and she could not shake it.

"How could this have happened mother, how…we've been so careful…" She began to sob. Her mother held her in her arms. It had been too much for either of them to bear. She kissed the top of Nicole's head that was now buried wearily into her shoulder. She glanced over at the hearth.

"Nicole, someone, some kind soul has been here…look at the fireplace." There neat as you please, a fire had been properly stoked, giving warmth to the room.

"But who mother….who would come?" She looked pleadingly into her mother's eyes.

"Certainly not the crabby urchin from below, she'd never do such a thing, even under these circumstances."

Her mother was nodding. "I do not know my dear, I just know that someone was here, and not long ago."

Nicole stared into the fire, her mother was right. "We'd best get what we came for and be on our way. We can thank whomever is responsible when we get to the tavern."

Nicole nodded. She went to her room retrieving her last two pairs of stockings, and changing her inner layer of pants to several pairs of bloomers. They weren't as warm, but then again, at least they were dry. It took several minutes only before they were re-bundled and on their way to the tavern. This time, Nicole decided to lock the door, her grandmother knew where the key was hidden.

XXX

Christine sat sipping at the pot of ginger tea Misty had brought in for her. She fumbled with the pen that was in her hand, rolling it back and forth to keep the ink from dripping on the still blank page that lay on the desk in front of her. How in the world would she put into words the feelings she had for Erik? He was a master of all things linguistic. His eloquence with words were without parallel. She was but a mere amateur, a novice, but in her heart burned a love that had been kindled for years, tended for years, until she knew that it was there. Somehow, there had to be a way to tell him. She exhaled, putting the pen to the parchment.

My dearest, dearest, Erik,

I'm finding myself entirely alone at this moment, thinking of only you. Watching the storm outside has proved to be an unworthy distraction as it too makes me think of you. The brave soul that you are having gone out in it in hopes of saving a woman you barely know.

The snow is deep, and the skies grow dark, and I realize I shan't be seeing you again before morning light. As I sit alone in the room that only hours ago provided shelter for our passions, I am reminded of you yet again. It makes me miss you terribly. To that end, I hope you'll not mind that I've borrowed, however temporarily, several garments that belong to you. Your nightshirt, your robe, even now take the place of the arms that I long to hold me.

I was speaking of you to our children today. Speaking of your bravery, your compassion. That I've never known a man such as their father in all of my life. For truly, there are none like you.

In the months since our marriage, so very much has happened. I know I need not recant the details, for you know them as well as I. What my heart aches to tell you is how very loved you are, and how very loved I feel. I fear my words may not contain the eloquence with which you yourself write, but they are straight and true, I pray you'll understand.

You have been the wind in my sails, the very life blood that flows through my heart, the air that rushes in and out of my lungs with each living breath. When first I came to the Opera House, I was a frightened little girl. Alone, and deeply saddened by my father's loss. I cried myself to sleep in the middle of the night. I was alone…and then you found me.

There was a voice, whispering to me in the darkness, calming me, reassuring me. It was not long that the mere sound of your voice calmed my senses, soothed my soul. Soon, I found myself talking to you, though you did not reply, I knew you were listening.

I began to wonder if it had all been in mind, a grand illusion, the longings of a grieving girl, lost in the depths of her sorrows. In a short while longer, you began to sing to me…oh how my heart fluttered when I heard your voice! My father had conveyed his affections as much by music as by touch and word, and in my heart they had all become one in the same…a great love from a father to his daughter. When you sang, my mind was floating and I was taken far from the cruel reality that had settled upon me.

I still recall with great fondness, the first time I sang with you. A song you'd sung to me so often. It was not intended, nor planned, but a mere act of adulation, genuflection. I thought I heard a tremor in your voice as if you'd begun to cry. My tiny voice was no match for yours, but I could not refrain, it was as if there was an unspoken invitation woven into your music, beckoning me to join you.

You were so gentle and kind, encouraging me at every turn. It wasn't long before our encounters each evening began with a lesson…and ended with your voice, wishing me well, bidding me to rest, to care for myself, and my favorite…that which warms my heart still…that you'd be watching over me…my angel. Those years you loved me, guided me, taught me. You led me down a narrow path that was in utter accord with that which Madame Giry was telling me of a life of a proper young woman. Little did I know then of your relationship with her…I'd not know for years.

I blush, at the thought of a long overdue confession. It is now that I must tell you, though it seems frivolous and moot considering our subsequent marriage vows, but I'd had an admiration for you. A fascination far beyond that of your voice; since first I realized as a small girl what love could be. I wanted to believe so badly that angel could become flesh, specter could be tangible. In my own small naïve way…I'd fallen in love with you.

How can one love what they cannot touch? I could not say, but I knew only that in my heart I truly loved you. As time passed and our lessons became more numerous, I learned how to respect you, not out of fear, but out of unmitigated esteem of your skill. You only expected the best from me. I in turn, wanting to please you, expected no less of myself.

As I grew into a young woman, not far in age from the woman I am now, my heart ached. I realized I'd grown to love a soul that I could never touch, never possess…it grieved me deeply in ways I shan't be able to mention until now. I could never have imagined leaving you, and yet I knew one day, I'd be wanting for a family, a home, yet my soul forbid me to even think of it…I could never leave my angel.

I knew you sensed my distraction. My lessons became rather abrupt, you feeling a bit distant to me toward the end, just a bit distant…I knew that you cared for me. It was almost as if you were preparing to let me go…. It was then that I started to hide in the gardens behind the Opera House, crying. I could never leave you, never. You'd been there for me for so long. Nurturing, protecting, and loving me in every way that was possible for you. I'd wonder in the moments that I cried in the gardens, if you were an angel, why could you not go with me, wherever I went? Then could two worlds actually be possible for me? But lo, I knew not. For even if I should find a suitor, I shan't be able to love him, for my heart had already been given to another. Would that be fair to some worthy man? I knew it shan't.

In all of this time, and things that we've been through together since first you revealed yourself, man of flesh and bone, man I could touch, kiss, love, I knew my heart and mind were sound, I could never have loved another. You had my heart, you had my soul…no one else could have possessed me, for you had already.

A new fear grew within me. A fear of being able to touch what I'd longed for, knowing of your truest existence, your anger, your passions….somehow that frightened me. So very strange, that which I'd hoped for, ney, longed for, once arrived, frightened me to no end. For a brief moment of pure insanity, in my fear, I'd thought about leaving all I had behind, to live a life of an aristocrat. But deep in my heart, even as I uttered those words to the poor unfortunate, would-be suitor, I knew it was him I deceived, as well as myself. I could no sooner have gone with him than I could have lived without the beating of my very heart…and that I had given to you and you alone. There was so much confusion. I'd hurt you…I'd hurt him…and I was driving myself mad.

It is to that end, that my gratitude for your actions will forever be undying. In your courage, or what you've confessed as desperation, you pushed me to make a decision that my heart had already made, but my mind had refused to accept. In that moment, when at the top of the bridge during Don Juan, we joined bodies, you laying your hands on me for the first time in the acceptance of my returning affections, I was alive. Though as good as being brought back from the dead. There was no room for question any longer, not in my mind….I had only one thing left to do, and that was beg your forgiveness for my actions. It is a matter of course we know how things traveled from that point forward.

Those next days and hours after our departure from that world, are memories that will warm me to the depths of my soul until my dying breath…the most tender moments a soul should ever be blessed enough to have. Our love, your love for me, my love for you, I cannot imagine anything stronger, nor truer, nor more potent and intoxicating.

Now, as I sit here in this room, the fruits of our love growing inside me, I think back with such sweetness on the years that you loved me, and the years that I loved you. I shan't ask for anything more in all the world than for you to be home sharing in the comfort of my affections. Truly home is in your arms, so neither of us, at this moment are at home. I am wishing for Godspeed and mercy to carry you back my love, my dear precious husband…my angel.

With all of my heart, Christine

Christine sat the blotter down as she covered the last of it. Her ink-stained finger rising slowly to her lips. She'd thought about discarding it into the fire, starting over. Something more clever, more poetic. She sat before it as though she'd just given birth to it, trying to decide if it was what she wanted to say to him. His love song for her was a confession of sorts…this would be her response. She stacked the several sheets together, sitting them aside as she put away the inkwell and pen. She'd retire to the divan, fresh cup of tea in hand, and read it again She wanted no mistake to be made in Erik's mind, but that she loved him, and would forever…for he'd assured her of no less himself.

XXXXX

Erik's arms ached as he pulled the makeshift sled through the snow. The rope had come undone several times and Erik had to chase the door down the drifts on several occasions. The old woman had made no sounds of protest nor fear. Erik had stopped several times, checking for a pulse, there had always been one, though however slow and slight. Now, he'd a pain in his side that wouldn't let up, though he'd tried to favor it. He'd not made much headway, and with darkness descending on them like a flock of pitch-black ravens from one of Edgar Allen Poe's most sinister tales, his hopes for success were dwindling. He'd come this far, brought her this far, he simply could not give up.

Erik stopped, retying the rope yet again, he lifted the corner of the blanket, "woman…woman…." His eyes felt bleary, his cheeks were on fire from the biting cold of the bitter wind. "WOMAN!" he shouted through the deafening wind, tapping at her cheeks with the back of his hand. Her eyes barely fluttering open, she was trying to speak. Erik knelt down close to her, hoping to encourage her.

"Find…find…the…boy…" She said, her eyes filled with the most pitiful pleading Erik had ever seen. He still knew not of what boy she spoke. He'd been fortunate enough to find her, and she'd been in out of the cold. What chances did a small boy have of surviving in a storm such as this? He reached out his hand, stroking the old woman's hair. He leaned way down, "you'll be home soon." He said to her before returning the covers to her face.

He stood, face into the stinging winds. The snow had turned to sleet, a certain sign that the temperatures were warming. No matter how unpleasant the sleet was, it would provide a hard surface for people to cross the masses of snow. He pulled the already snow-caked scarf back up to cover his face. They still had a fair distance to travel.

Erik mounted the largest drift thus far. His conscience tugged at him for the damage the open window would cause the owners of the home he'd just taken the woman from; perhaps he'd be forgiven for not having let the woman die there. Erick was keenly aware of the superstitions that were prevalent in Paris, and he'd no doubt that a town that indeed took pride in being a small Paris, would certainly have adopted similar ideologies.

Erik knew the truths which the citizens of this city did not. In fact it was those things that would cause terrors in the night for them if only they knew. For there were fates far worse than death, and far worse than anything even the most jaded soul in Chauesser could have possibly ever bore witness to. Superstitions were based on supposition and fear of the unknown. What Erik knew, was based on the unadulterated horror of the purest truth. Death in some cases was a merciful blessing. Though today…for this woman…it was not to be…if it were in Erik's power.

His face stung, his hands were beginning to feel numb. Though the snows had slowed, it was now the bitter wind that howled like a savage beast prowling every nook it could find that wearied him. He'd cheated fate more than once; he'd no intentions of giving up.

As he crested the drift, a gust of wind pushed the door up and over the edge, thrusting it on a runaway course down into the cavernous trench that the drifts had formed between two of the houses. Erik lurched forward as the weight and speed jerked him from his feet sending him sliding face first down into the snow. Erik tried to stop himself but the sleet had begun to form a glassy surface on the drifts and the tangle of his snowshoes made it impossible to dig his feet into the snow to stop his progress. He tried to protect his face with his arm pulled up so he could bury it in the crook. of his elbow.

Before Erik knew what had happened he found himself slid up against the side of the door that had come to rest next to a rather large tree. The door having snapped in half now lay splayed out on the snow. The half still attached to Erik's waist rested against the tree, the other half, lay a distance away. It was that half which contained the woman, and what few blankets remained covering her. He crawled over the slippery surface until he reached the top of the door, peeking beneath the pile of blankets. He slid his hand under the layers feeling for the woman's face. Her flesh was cold. When he moved his frozen hand over to the woman's mouth, he could still feel a warm breath. She was still alive…he had to go on.

He tried to stand, unsuccessfully a number of times, realizing he would have to abandon his snow shoes, they were now more of a hindrance than a help. The frozen layer of snow simply made them more like sleds than anything useful. After removing the webbed pediments, Erik dug the heels of his leather boots firmly into the snow. It would be much more work, each step would require a deliberate thrust of one leg before he could move another.

He closed his eyes, raising a silent prayer. It was in God's hands now…if she would live or perish, it was beyond Erik. He was but a messenger, and with any fortune, the deliverer of this old woman to her family. She was loved, and had once loved, that was worth something….it was something he'd never known…until now.

Christine's face, the face he'd seen of hers when they were alone in the library the night before, when he'd shared his song with her, flashed through his mind. The thought of it filling him with an inner warmth. He hoped that his children would grow to love their mother as this family loved the woman he'd be bringing back to them.

Erik stood, his heels firmly planted into the snow. He stomped his feet through, making a small place where he could easily regain his footing. The door now broken, would be of no use to him. They'd travel the rest of the distance on foot. He knelt once more, reaching under the layers of blankets feeling for the woman. He tucked his head inside, grateful for the temporary reprieve from the biting winds. "Woman.." Erik listened, and there was a faint gasp. She was still alive. "We will travel the rest of the way on foot. I'll have to carry you, the door is broken." Erik listened again for any acknowledgement.

He thought he heard a faint voice, though in the end he would wonder if it was his imaginative mind playing tricks on him. "He was a good boy…I'm sorry I've lost your boy…he had your eyes." Erik was within inches of her face, and though he could not see her, he could hear the pain and torture in her voice. This woman had no doubt suffered much in the hands of the cruel twistings of her own mind Erik thought.

She spoke once more, "take me home, I'd like to see them once more before…" Erik hushed her. "Shhhhh…we will be home soon woman, you'll be with them soon." With that, Erik hoisted her from the door, peeling away all but three of the blankets which he wrapped around her. He was at once on his feet, the woman soundly in his arms. He pulled the cloak tightly around them both, securing either side with his hands beneath her. They'd be there in a short while, he could see the tops of the large pine trees that belonged to only one place in all of Chauesser, the park. And just beyond that and to the left, stood the row of inns that he'd need to travel by to get her home.

XXXXX

Nicole and her mother slid down the bank of the tavern. They'd tried to use the stairs carved into the snow, but in the sleet they'd become slippery, and even more dangerous than taking one's chances by digging your heels into the snow itself. The door to the tavern was opened for them by the two stable boys who come out to throw sand on the walk.

They'd not gone far and yet they were already feeling the strain of the cold and weariness on their bones. Nicole was delirious. Her eyes stung, her head pounded, and her mind was sagging. Beleaguered with guilt and a tired she'd never felt before. She was exhausted, afraid, and though she found herself suddenly surrounded in a rather crowded room, she felt utterly alone.

"Nicole!", her employer came rushing towards her, grabbing her about the shoulders and leading her over to the bench by the warmth of the fire. Her mother being escorted by one of his staff to join her.

"Have you heard anything, seen anything, has anyone reported?" Nicole said desperately.

Her employer was shaking his head back and forth. "No, but you should know, that man came into the village looking for her!"

Nicole looked at him through her bleary eyes. "What man? Who came looking for her?"

"The man, the one with the young wife you'd admired, the one that your grandmother…" He immediately bit his tongue, Erik's words of caution ringing in his ears still.

"He came?" Nicole gasped, raising her hand to her chest. "Why…how…are you certain it was him?" Nicole had slid to the edge of the bench, as her mother joined her.

"What is it?" she inquired. Nicole looked at her mother, "sir, do tell her what you've told me." She said to him.

"Mum, the man whom your mother has had opportunity to see as of late," he swallowed, trying to be polite made the situation all the more difficult as he was trying to be both kind and vague. "He came in on dog sled with father of your daughter's friend several hours ago. They'd gone out to check with him to be certain she'd not gone to disturb him…and he returned with them."

He paused, looking between the two women, both tired and cold, knowing what he said next would have them once again in motions. "I'm quite afraid he's gone looking for her."

Nicole and her mother both gasped. "Whatever for, she'd done nothing to him…" Nicole's mother began to tremble. "No, no, mum, he's every intention of helping." The man lowered his head just slightly, feeling a bit ashamed himself. "He said the oddest thing just as he left, he said, All it takes for the evils of this world to triumph is for good men to do nothing, and then he left."

Nicole's mother looked ashen. "Wherever will he go? We've looked everywhere."

The man shook his head, "he'd asked where you'd been, and then said that he would

start at your house, and work methodically to the north, house by house, and then at the edge of the city, and then back down the opposite side of the street until he came back here."

Nicole and her mother were on their feet. "No, no.." he admonished. "He'd said not to let you go back out into this storm, he insisted that we keep you where it was warm, to see to your comfort." The man said putting his hand on her mother's shoulder.

She looked at him resolutely, "good sir, I've no want to offend you, or disrespect you on account of my daughter's employment with you, but given the circumstances, would you be able to sit by while a perfect stranger sought your own lost mother?"

The man wanted to protest, though he knew she was right. She was a woman of few words, but they were straight and true. "No mum." He said, looking at the ground.

"Then please, do make way, we must go back out." Nicole was nodding her head in agreement though she felt entirely numb as much from the lack of sleep as any other cause.

The man, thinking fast, sought to delay them. "At least warm yourself, have a bit of soup. You cannot deny that you need to warm yourself, have some sustenance, for you shan't be able to go far without it." Nicole looked at her mother, she'd close her eyes for a few minutes by the fire, while they warmed their boots if she agreed.

Her mother looked back at the man. "Very well, a bit of soup, we really must be on our way." The man nodded to one of the staff who'd been standing off to the side. They'd fetch something for them. He walked over to a large pile of blankets that had just been brought out of storage again. He went to the front of the fire, laying several down, and then led Nicole there. "Rest Nicole, if but for a few minutes, you've been up all night dear, you need to warm yourself."

Nicole didn't fight it, she complied without complaint, laying down, closing her eyes nearly as quick as she'd reclined. The blankets were soft, though the floor was hard, her body didn't mind, it needed rest, if however brief.

He walked over draping a blanket around her mother's shoulders. "We must let Nicole rest a few minutes mum, she's dreadfully tired, the poor dear worked all through the night last night, and she'd been here late the night before as well. She must rest."

She looked at the man, "you are right. I should not have asked her to go out again. She is weary, I know she is. Perhaps I shall go out once I've had my soup…"

The man was shaking his head again, "you shan't go out alone in this weather mum, it is far too dangerous. What would she do if she lost you both?"

Her eyes filled with tears. She raised her hand to her mouth covering it just as she gasped pitifully. "We can't lose her…"

The man sat next to her, looking at the ground. There were no words of comfort to offer, for how could anyone hope to find her alive after all this time had passed? She and Nicole had been in and out several times, and they were near frozen. How could she have survived? He only hoped for the two women's sake, that they'd not have to wait days to find her buried under the snow. That tragedy would be far too difficult to bear for them.

**Author's Notes**:

**Captain Oblivious**: Oh…not another song to make me cry! I tell you, I don't know what's happened to me, but I think I've fallen in love with POTO all over again. I sat down and watched it through from beginning to end yesterday (instead of my usual mode of fast forwarding to the parts I like most!) and it just moved me. The tragedy, the angst, the longing the love…ahhh. I paid careful attention to each characters facial expressions, imagining what they were going through…oh how beautiful a story it is. I did watch recently, based on recommendations from other Phamily members, 'Moulin Rouge' and 'Interview with a Vampire'. I did like them both, but it made me want POTO all the more…I've become rather faithful to it. So, no more songs to make me cry….I've done enough in recent weeks watching all these movies! Oh, you've probably seen 'Dear Frankie' with our lovely Gerard….I watched that before I went to bed last night….that really made me stop and think about love…Oh, I've got to stop! If you haven't seen it yet, do rent it…but get out some Kleenex because it's a tear jerker.

Yes, the game that they played, as you so correctly described, not only strengthens, but reveals a great deal about those who play it….alas…my real intentions are revealed. It was a good way to elicit some information out of our little group of characters that just may shape some of what happens next!

Hope school is going well for you, and that Susie and your new friend are getting along! LOL! Oh, has Susie met Patmobile yet? It gives a whole new mystery to the term "double-dating". To answer the questions you're probably thinking…. 1) No I'm not crazy and 2) Yes, I think being normal is over-rated!

**Phantomlover05**: Yes, I could just imagine Madame Giry and Nadir both blushing! But, it was long overdue don't you think?

**Phantomfan13**: The suspense builds…yes…Erik is doing everything in his power to save her…Hmmm. Yes, 'Pearl Harbor' was a sad movie indeed. So odd you'd mention the movie…I mentioned to one of our other Phamily members, just last chapter, that I visited Pearl Harbor in Hawaii…it was very haunting…to actually stand above the ship over the water, look at the names engraved on the marble wall that is displayed right over the water…to see the flowers that people had thrown into the water…and to read about the last days of the lives of those that were on board the USS Arizona…it added so much to what I saw of the movie…it was so tragic. I'll never forget being there!

Now, I have to wonder… "Titanic" came out on DVD in the US several years ago….they don't have it where you live? But I must say there wasn't much in the way of extra features on the DVD. You should be able to get it on Amazon for a fairly good price if you're looking for it.

**Phantomsrogue**: Yes, I shall have to re-rent the movie so I can. Sadly, I had to take it back on Saturday, without having been able to watch that second disk. Sometimes I really enjoy a story so much more when I know of how it was developed, from costumes to sound stage, to final production. Yes, I did really enjoy the music…it was so eclectic!

Now, I must confess, I have a rather fiendish grin on my face as I contemplate your last comment….can you imagine…those three subjects in one storyline! What they thought of one another…if they'd ever interacted…run across one another's paths…if Louis or Lestat frequented Moulin Rouge, and if Erik may have seen them there…perhaps learned some of his trickery from them….how Erik may have hated Lestat for what he had done to Louis…the young girl….perhaps that is why he kept such a tight rein on Christine when she was growing up…wanting to keep her out of the hands of those monsters……oh…I can feel another story coming on…..just what I need…another obsession! grins….who needs sleep anyway

**Christineluvserik**: Congratulations on your new house! That is entirely wonderful! Yes…we should all have our own Courtland Manor indeed! And yes, those times are very, very, busy indeed…but they are so very happy! A house is just a house…it is the love that grows inside the walls that make it a home…and I've no doubt that you will make it a happy one! Please keep in touch….we shall want to know how the new home is progressing! I'm happy you could still find time to squeeze in a little reading with our Phamily!

**WriterMuseoftheNight**: My, an interesting tag name indeed…but we'll get back to that. Welcome to the Phamily! We are always excited when we adopt, or are adopted by a new member! Thank you for taking time for a review…Erik's transition was a very important part for me. There were areas were I took rather large liberties, such as in changing his appearance a bit, but it felt right to me… Yes, Erik and Raoul being brothers is quite a stretch, but it ties together so many things in the story…brothers falling in love with the same woman…things that they are passionate about, oh…I can't say more or I'll spoil the story! Thank you for working through that part. I am happy to hear that you like the idea of Erik and Christine having a family…ending up together…it warms my heart to know that others felt the same way…if I'm crazy….we're all crazy….and I don't mind lumping myself in that category with our Phamily!

Now, as has become our tradition whenever a new member joins our Phamily…I'll take a stab at your tag name… Hmmmm….. there are so many possibilities here… you are either a night-owl like several other Phamily members and like to stay up and write…or wish you could be one of Erik's muses….or…well, perhaps you'd like to tell us…if you would be so kind!

**ForeverPhantoms**: Welcome to the Phamily! I must admit to you right from the start, your review made me cry. It is always overwhelming to me where and how this story has connected people around the world. Eight wonderful children…your own Erik…I can only imagine! I am so very, very, happy for you! I am also happy to hear that you and your new son are doing well. It is a scary time when babies are so premature…but the modern miracle of medicine, along with some good old-fashioned prayer can do so very much. I will keep you and your family in my prayers.

No doubt you have read some of the other responses that I've written to other reviewers in our Phamily, and if so I do not want this to sound trite… I am always, and I do mean sincerely always, humbled by the reviews this story has received. When I read how it brightened someone's day, or gave them a chance to work through something on their own, or made them just smile…or in your case kept you company through some of your bedrest….it makes every single sleepless hour I've spent at my keyboard staring out into the dark night sky as I write…worth it. There is an old saying by Emerson…that I absolutely love…it speaks to me of a life worth living….

"**To laugh often and much; To win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; To earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; To appreciate beauty, to find the best in others; To leave the world a bit better, whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition;** **To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded." Emerson**

This is the quote I think of when I read reviews. If this story brings a smile to someone's face, then I've succeeded. Thank you for your kind encouragement.

Now, we have a tradition in our Phamily…tag names are of particular interest to us…they often tell us something rather interesting about our members that we might not otherwise know…..Now for you….I think it is pretty straightforward…does this mean perhaps that you will forever belong to the Phantom? Or at least a part of you will love this story forever…and maybe….like the rest of us in the Phamily who are hopelessly addicted to the POTO story…I have been known to be WAY off before, so please, if you are willing…do tell us!


	128. Pleasure and Pain

Chapter 128 Pleasure and Pain 

Christine lay on the divan, the soft glow of the fireplace, freshly stoked by the maid, providing both light and warmth to the room. The papers she'd written lay on her chest. She'd decided not to revise them, nor begin again. Her father had taught her that first instincts, first words, first thoughts, were far more true than any other. Revisions were what we made once we began to consider how what we'd done would be perceived by others. It was a form of compromise. If one wanted to speak truly from their heart….first words were always best, and most true. He'd given her so much advice as a young girl, and she could hardly believe that she'd remembered the lot of it. Perhaps it was his point of making constant reaffirmation of a lesson until he felt she'd understood it, or perhaps it was his living example, or opportune choice of timing. Whatever it had been, there was much she'd remembered, and much to be thankful to him for.

Christine's ears perked up as she heard the grandfather clock chime seven times. It was later than she'd imagined. She wandered to the window, pushing the curtains aside. It looked like a mid-winter's night. It was certain that there was enough snow on the ground to make it look like a bed that had been layered over an entire winter, storm after storm. It seemed that the snow had subsided, and the hardened rain that fell made everything glimmer as if coated in glass.

She hoped that wherever in Chauesser Erik was that he was warm and safe now. She so hoped that he'd found the woman safe and sound back at the tavern…she frowned…but if he had, he'd have been home even now.

She shook her head, raising both hands to the sides of her cheeks, rubbing gently across her eyes, and down her neck. She let her hands run down over the center of her chest. She seemed to be tender from stem to stern tonight; so much as a gentle brush of a hand made her ache. No doubt this was all part of what she would be experiencing as her pregnancy progressed. Her hand rested on the small lump under her navel. She'd had supper, and a pot of tea, but the thought of another slice of that cake sounded rather inviting. That, and some of the pickled watermelon rinds that Sara had brought from her inn. It made Christine sad twice over.

First she missed Sara, and secondly, she thought of the last time she'd had them. It was with Sara, as they sat by the fire at Courtland Manor one of the many nights that Christine couldn't sleep. She'd been hungry for something sweet, but salty. Sara had retrieved a jar of them, and given Christine a plate of them along with slices of cheddar cheese. It had satisfied her in a strange way. Now that sounded wonderful to her, though she knew Sara's last jars were still at Courtland Manor.

Her mind quickly wandered to Nadir. She hoped he'd not been caught in the storm. As near as she could estimate when he left, he should easily have made it to Paris before the storm hit, if it had gone that far.

Certainly if Paris was covered in this sort of snow, it would delay even further Sara's burial. How sad, she thought, to be denied being laid to rest for so long. There was little that could be done now. She hoped it would not be too long before they would hear from Nadir, either in person or by messenger. She longed to know of Meg's progress. To hear of the progress on the reconstruction of the Opera House. To find out how her friends were, if they were beginning to return. She'd so many questions she'd like answers to.

Her heart sank. She felt warm. She wondered with great sadness how many times her mind would wander back to a life she could no longer lay claim to. That life was gone, a past she could never return to. She could never walk the streets of Paris again as she once had. If ever they did return, it would have to be under the cloak of night for a secret meeting. She shook her head. She'd made her choice, and no choice is without consequence. She rubbed over her stomach once more. She'd no regrets, but that did not mean she shan't wonder of her old life, or those she'd come to know. She would always wonder.

She blinked, "was that my stomach?" She heard it again. Yes indeed it was, a low growl. She wondered how she could be hungry yet again when she'd finished eating just an hour before. She supposed it mattered little, if she were hungry, she'd best eat. She had more than herself to think about now. And, that cake did sound entirely wonderful…and…a dish of apples. She could hear Erik's voice in her head. The apples for her health, the cake for her craving…both gave her cause to smile just thinking of Erik. She wandered out of the room and down toward the kitchen.

XXX

Nicole was fast asleep when her mother finished the bowl of soup that the man had brought for her. Her mother had tried to gently wake her, but she was so exhausted she was barely breathing she slept so soundly. "I should leave her here sir. I'll go out, and please do not try to dissuade me. I am to travel just up this road and back down again. If I do not return in an hour's time, then please send someone for me. I'll not now risk anyone else's comforts to take them with me. Please do see that she's watched over for me won't you?"

The man nodded. The tavern was full of all sorts of people though he doubted any would have been foolish enough to disturb this young woman, one just never knew. He'd ask one of the other girls that had been there to take leave and sit with Nicole as she slept. He'd no doubt whomever he chose shouldn't mind such an assignment.

He helped the woman bundle herself up, adding a few of his own scarfs around her head and neck. Secretly he'd hoped that the Erik would have returned by now, but he'd not seen so much as a hint of him. If this woman was his wife he'd have forbid that she go, but she was not, so he'd little he could do but prepare her as best he could. He walked with her to the door. "Take care, and here, take this," he handed her a sturdy wooden pole with a thick nail protruding from the end, "this will make traveling on this much easier."

She smiled at him. "Thank you, and thank you for watching out for Nicole. She's a wonderful daughter, I shan't know what I would do without her." The man nodded his head in agreement.

"She shall one day make a wonderful wife for someone. I only wish that my own sons were older, I'd say they could find no better a mate than she."

Nicole's mother smiled. "Thank you for your kind words sir. I hope one day for a good match for her. I've no doubt she shall one day. For now, she is far too devoted to her grandmother to even consider such things."

The man nodded again, it was only so true. He opened the door for her, the cold wind swirling in with a rush making all within its grasp shudder just slightly.

The icy fingers lapped at Nicole's cheek. She sat straight up rubbing at her eyes. "Mother?" She was blinking trying to focus her eyes. "MOTHER!" she called out.

Her mother had half a mind to dash out the door before Nicole saw her, but she could not bear the pitiful look of horror on her daughter's face. She went to her. Embracing her she said, "Nicole, you are far too tired to be back out in that storm. You need to rest. Stay here by the warm fire, I shan't be gone more than an hour child."

Nicole struggled to get out from beneath the blankets. She was reaching for her boots.

"Nicole, listen to me, you are too exhausted, you'll fall deathly ill if you try to…:"

Nicole stood, boots on her feet looking around for her cloak. She'd never spoken out against her mother's wishes, but she could not refrain. Perhaps it was her exhaustion that made her so bold, but bite her tongue she could not. "Mother, I've lived here with you and grandmother for four years now. I've cared for her, fed her, retrieved her dozens of times. Now, when she needs me most you'd expect that I'd prefer my own comforts over her survival?"

Her mother taken back by such strong words from her daughter, stammered for a moment. "Nicole, it is too dangerous for you to…:"

Yet again she interrupted her. "I'm a grown woman now mother. If I should see fit to accompany you, I see that it is not within your power to deny me. I've the map, and the flask and as you can see I am fully ready now, you shan't be able to shed me as a sheep does his coat at the sheer. Wherever you are going, I am going with you!" Nicole now stood foot to foot, nose to nose with her mother.

She'd want to scream at her, to order her to stay, forbid her to go, but she knew Nicole was right. She was a full grown woman who'd made sacrifices for her family. She could not deny her this one chance to save her grandmother. She looked at her daughter, no amount of fighting would dissuade her. "Very well then, bundle up, we'll be on our way."

The man quickly scurried in, providing Nicole a cup of broth to sup before leaving. She took it gratefully. In just a minute's time she and her mother went once more to the door. The rope lashed securely about each other's waists. It would be far safer for them she knew.

Her mother held up the pole she was given. "I shall lead the way Nicole." Nicole looked at the ground, and back up at her mother. "I am stronger and faster mother…." She began. That elicited an equally appropriate response, "yes, but I've the pole, and I shan't be giving it to you." Nicole grimaced. Her mother was right, she'd lead the way, Nicole would follow.

XXXXX

Raoul's house had not been witness to such laughter in many long years, perhaps not ever since he'd occupied it. The game had proven to be exactly what all souls concerned were in need of. The questions had run the gambit from favorite food, to favorite author, to least favorite experience, to most wonderful teacher, to least comfortable article of outer clothing, most admired figure in history, most irritating personality, the moment you were most frightened, favorite eye color, to the restaurant in Paris you would most like to go but you'd never been.

The answers to some questions were truly enlightening especially for the two couples in the room. Though they'd not made it anything less than pleasant for DeChagny. He'd joined in the revelry. With no family, save Raoul and his sister in close proximity, he'd missed many social occasions with family. Oh he'd had more than his share of quintessential soirees, but a true family event where all pretense is set aside in favor of immersing oneself in simple pleasures for the sake of pleasure, had never been part of his vocabulary, let alone his life.

When his wife had been alive she'd entertained, but even that was socially proper. Informal family gatherings with just Raoul, his sister, and father were so few that Raoul could count them on both hands. His father had simply been too consumed with position, status, and business, to be bothered with the frivolity of play. There would always be time later for such things. What he knew now, but didn't understand then, was that tomorrow held no guarantee for happiness. Today was all that was possible to embrace.

The stemmed dessert glasses lay abandoned on the table, in various stages of consumption. Meg had somehow managed to finish all of hers. Raoul had a few bites remaining. Madame Giry and Nadir had nearly finished theirs, and DeChagny had all but licked his dish clean. The chuckling continued long after the nightcap had been poured.

"Nadir, do tell us. If the most irritating personality was this dear friend of yours, it is truly a wonder that you've managed to remain friends all of these many years. How is that possible. The friend must have a good bit of information to use as bribery, or he is entirely too wealthy to ignore."

Both Madame Giry and Meg's expressions changed. From the description that Nadir had shared, they both knew it was of Erik that he spoke though he'd given no telling detail. Nadir sensed the shift. DeChagny was both genuinely interested and entirely curious for other reasons.

Nadir sat back, he'd be eloquent, but say no more than he'd intended. "You see my friend, people come into your life for a number of reasons. Some for a moment, some for a season, and some for a lifetime. For instance. You are traveling in your carriage out of Paris, and a wheel loosens itself from your carriage. The driver has neither the strength nor the tools to remedy the situation. Just then a man happens upon you that not only knows how to change the wheel, but has all of the necessary tools in the wagon he's pulling, to do the job right then and there. Not several minutes up the road a man lays in wait to plunder the next carriage that comes along. As it turns out, yours would have been the next carriage had you not been delayed. The robber tires of waiting, and leaves just minutes before you are on your way past that very spot. Those are people that come into your life for a reason, and then they are gone." Nadir stopped, making certain to look each person in they eye.

"Then, there are people you meet such as a business associate, a summer friend, a doctor. Someone who is there for you, perhaps for a long while, and once the reason for their presence has been satisfied, they are gone, and you never see them again as long as you live. Those are the people, whom you likely cared very much about, but were destined to be in your life for but a season, to help you through a difficult time, or move your life in a different direction." He paused, the next statement meant far more to him then he would ever be able to express.

"Then, there are people that come into your life, that are there for a variety of reasons. Perhaps it is for you to help them, perhaps they are helping you. You might share many trials and tribulations, and even you yourselves may be at odds for periods of time in your relationship. However, no matter what happens in your life, they are always there, a constant reminder of who you are when all else is stripped away. They are the people that are in your life for a lifetime."

Nadir looked at DeChagny. "The odd thing really is that you shan't have a choice in the matter, it is simply what fate decides. The friend that I described, he is in my life now for many years. We've been through much together, for one another, and because of one another. We'd not chosen each other, and likely would never have been even acquaintances if it were not a case where we'd met under extenuating circumstances. We've been friends since that very day. He is my friend, one I could call on after long absences, and I know in my heart that he would make every effort, even at the cost of his own life to come to my aid. And I feel the same for him. And though we find each other entirely irritating, annoying, and at times unbearable, the truth of the matter is we belong to one another for a life time, for many seasons have passed, and we are yet as blood brothers."

DeChagny knew very little about this man that sat in his son's home. Could find nothing regarding his social standing, his past, but at this very moment, he would have traded all of his wealth to have even one other person on the earth feel the same way about him that Nadir felt about his friend. He was speechless, being able to say nothing more than "hmmmm."

Madame Giry had a large lump in her throat. Hearing Nadir speak with such passion about a man she knew could only be Erik, drove her feelings of guilt even deeper. She could not come between two friends who had this sort of admiration for one another. She had to tell Nadir. They both had commitments that would prevent them from pursuing anything more beyond that which they now shared, a deep friendship. They would have to be satisfied with that or risk tearing apart every other aspect of their lives, hurting far more than just the two of them.

She must stay in Paris, stay with Meg, and return to the Opera House, that was her life, her destiny. He needed to return to Erik, to the life he'd had before he met her. And Christine…that bridge would have to be crossed. She'd promised her, and she was as close to a mother as she'd ever had. With no father nor mother, she was truly alone.

Madame Giry gasped at the pain of the thought. Meg who had been lost in her own thoughts about the very man Nadir was speaking of, looked up at her mother. "Are you alright?"

Madame Giry realizing she'd gasped out loud, hastened to cover her emotions. "That was beautiful Nadir, I am certain that we can all recall people who have fit the very words you described so eloquently." Meg nodded in agreement.

Raoul and his father looked at one another. This was something that neither could recall feeling exactly. For them, people served a purpose, and if not for their obvious purpose, they did not stay in their lives. It was an invisible, but very tangible barrier that they'd never let anyone passed.

Perhaps they'd never truly needed anyone else badly enough. There was something that could be said about those who were isolated by their money and power. They might have every worldly comfort, but that which they craved the most, though never admitted to themselves, they did not possess. It was something all the money in the world could not buy.

Friendship, true friendship was priceless. The perspective was entirely from the eye of the beholder. What did one find valuable? The group sat, very much together, but each contemplating their own private personal inventory…asking that all important question, where is your heart?

Their silent reflection was precipitously interrupted by Madeline who'd come in with a hot pot of coffee, and a tray to collect the dessert dishes. As she left she nodded to Raoul, "you peek out window, storm turns now." The group were at once on their feet moving to the window as Madeline closed the doors behind her.

Raoul drew the curtain back as they stood in front of the window. The lawn was lit like a million diamonds. The sky was clear, save a few little clouds that still remained. The moon was out, bright and brimming. The snow that fell now was the kind one wished for on Christmas Eve. Light and fluffy, large flakes floating to the ground without so much as a breeze to disturb them. The site was one they all stood in awe of. It was truly a wondrous thing to behold.

The storm had unleashed its furry with a vengeance, and now the calm after the storm was breathtaking. All that remained for the morrow was to discover with what ferocity mother nature had claimed her rightful due. For tonight the beauty of the snowfall was peaceful, delightful, and they hoped, the last they would see of winter for a very long while.

Madame Giry had made her way over to the coffee returning with several cups, handing them first to Raoul and his father, returning with one for Meg and Nadir, and lastly one for herself. They stood in the quiet of one another's company. They'd forged a memory this night, one that each would carry to their grave, it had been a wonderful night, without all the pretense, without all the complications many previous nights had held. Tonight was pure and simple pleasure, just for the sake of pleasure.

**Author's Notes: **

**Captain Oblivious**: Oh, there you go again, invading Erik's space! You know he doesn't take kindly to anyone's touch but his Christine! He is a hero….or is he….hmmmm. That shall be sticking point….but I'll say no more.

'Dear Frankie', is in video stores in my area now, but I must confess I ordered my from Amazon the first day it was available for purchase. I do love it so, but it is sad. I've a brother-in-law who had a similar experience, though he'd not meet his father until he was in his thirties. It is a good one, and nice to see Gerry in a more modern role, of a non-character, character.

**Draegon-fire**: Nice to hear from you. I am such a worry wart when someone in our Phamily isn't heard from for a long while. Especially with all this crazy weather going on around the world! I too am glad you've had a chance to catch up. Yes, there is much happening around the issues you mentioned. Nadir and DeChagny…both after Madame Giry…oh can you imagine what Erik would say if he knew! LOL. Keep in touch, we miss you when you're gone!

**WriterMuseoftheNight**: Touche'! I think Erik wouldn't tell me either if I asked him about your affiliation! It is so wonderful to have a collection of people who all think that Erik is entirely worthy of our adoration! I am glad to hear you approve of the story thus far. Some areas are a bit of a stretch, but then again, what story isn't! I do like the physical change for Erik's appearance. His voice, his presence, it all deserved to be crowned with equally good looks, especially when that had been what deprived him of the love that he sought.

**Phantomlover05**: Overdue, but somehow it seems like it will only complicate things further…..

**Phantomfan13**: Thank you for your kind words. There was so much that Christine would have loved to say to Erik, but she feared her words would appear so inferior to what he could write that she just couldn't bring herself to write any more. She loved him, it had been her waking mind that had fought it, but in the end her heart had won, and she was blessed with a happiness that she could only have imagined. Ahhh….the hopeless romantic in my surfaces yet again! LOL!

Interesting info about your grandmother! I always think we can learn so much from the past…enough that it makes us embrace the future with such open arms, for one day our ancestors will be asking about us…what did they accomplish?

**Phantomsrogue**: I have to admit I've been entirely distracted by the idea you suggest, and am already formulating possibilities in my head…but oh where to put such a creative license to use? It belongs as a fanfic, but then again, under what heading? Yes, I agree that the Phantom may have understood, he himself having taken in a young muse, but he had decided to love, nurture, protect, although not without obsession….Lestat and Louis…well, theirs was an odd sort of love, for Louis an accident, for Lestat an opportunity to keep Louis in line. In the end it would be the lesser of two evils, the divergence of two obsessions…both dark and long suffering….oh my…now I've lost myself in that thought all over again. Blast! Oh, and the physical proximity of all those places in Paris….it could work I say! Blast and double blast!

Yes, now back THE story….the struggles for the family are not yet over, nor is the story, though Erik will struggle through it. Oh, I cannot say more lest I spoil my own story!


	129. Drifts, Birth, and Curiosity

Chapter 129 Drifts, Birth, and Curiosity 

Slowly, Erik trudged up the next drift. It was demanding, the slope was slippery, followed by yet another precipitous plunging valley on the other side. He couldn't count, it had been far too many hills he had climbed. Looking down, he could feel something both warm and stiff on his clothing. He blinked his eyes blurry from the cold and the wind, was that blood? He looked, closer, it was indeed. Where or what it was from, he did not know, and at this juncture, its origin mattered little, he'd no choice but to continue.

The weight in his arms made navigating a bit more precarious. He'd mounted and descended drift after drift. His legs ached with increasing ferocity. They felt more like dead stumps of wood that his torso was dragging about. If it weren't for the pain in them, he'd have thought them to be useless flesh. As he came to the top of the next drift he could see the towering pines that he knew instinctively, he was but a hundred yards from the street that would lead to the tavern.

XXXXX

Out in the barn the man was covered in a coat of mucus and blood from wrist to arm pit. The maid had come from the house to provide what little help she could, for she knew nothing about delivering a foal. She'd been a midwife in her youth, but this was decidedly different. The only true help she could provide was to stroke the horse's mane and ears as the man tried to help her deliver.

At long last she felt the horse jerk and a singular snort from her nostrils as she raised her head high, snapping it down. The man let out a cry. There in his arms was the one he'd waited for. He'd had his hand in the horse's mouth, clearing the mucus, then setting the newborn on the ground and moving away so that the mother could turn around and tend to her baby.

The pair moved away, closing the gate. They stood on the other side of the fence watching as the mother did as nature had taught her. They smiled at one another.

"Monsieur Courtland will be pleased when he returns. He has special intentions for this little one." The man said to the maid. They walked outside, noticing that the wind had subsided greatly since they'd gone to the barn several hours before.

Looking up into the sky they could see that the clouds were beginning to clear. Off to the west, the clouds still seemed thick as ever, but where they stood, the stars were innumerable.

"A name sir, does the horse have a name?" The man turned smiling at the woman. "Why no, he'd intended to name her himself once he saw the horse. He didn't want a name to determine the animal. But between the two of us, I think the name Stormy would seem appropriate, do you not?" The maid chuckled a bit. "I should say so."

She looked at him. "Now what say you, I draw you a bath?" The man laughed looking down at his soiled clothing. "I'd be food for wolves if I stayed in this clothes Madame!" After peeking in the barn once more and finding the mother properly tending to her baby, they closed the door, latching it securely. They walked toward the house. "I should say we will be rather busy on the morrow, we've much to do to clear all this snow!" The woman laughed again. "I'll bake and make soup, you good sir, can tend to the snow!"

XXXX

Slowly he mounted the last drift, step by difficult step. As he reached the top, his cloak flew high into the air behind him. He felt like the great warrior Attila coming over the top of the last hill before returning home with his share of the spoils. Though in this case it was worth far more than the wealth of any nation to one family.

As he stood there, preparing for the descent down the next sheer surface, he saw something in the distance. It was two small figures huddled together, but moving, yes, moving toward him. He hesitated for a brief moment before he began moving toward them. Perhaps they could help him take her home. In all other cases, Erik had too much pride to allow for such a thing, but today was not normal, nor were the circumstances….today he'd accept the help, gratefully.

XXXX

"Mother! Mother!" Nicole had taken the lead, and had turned calling out to her. The woman had slowed down, her legs beginning to buckle underneath her, her face red, frozen tears trying desperately to force their way out, but they could not. All she could do was point. Was this her imagination? She'd become delirious. To her, the ominous figure that stood on the hill at a distance, black cloak flying triumphantly into the air, a tower of a man, with what looked like a sickle on his back…… he was the personification of the grim reaper, here to collect that which he'd come for. She gasped, was this true or did her yearning eyes deceive her once more.

XXXX

Christine wandered down to the kitchen. Everything was neatly back in its place, no evidence of the flurry of flour and apple peelings that had dominated the room just a few hours before, though a soft cinnamon aroma still lingered.

She felt the side of the tea kettle that was on the stove. It was still hot, and she could tell by the soft glow that shone around the small door of the oven that it had been recently tended to.

Christine moved over to the domed lid that she knew covered that which she sought. She lifted it, the sweet fragrance of the frosting and spice cake rising to her nose making her salivate. She padded about quietly in the room, collecting a china plate and utensil. Carefully she slid one of the last of three pieces of the cake onto the awaiting plate. She refitted the dome, turning to pour herself a cup of hot water. She'd no need for an entire pot of tea, a singular cup would do.

The lone lamp left just barely burning in the kitchen gave it a soft welcoming glow. Glancing out the window she could see the softly falling snow. When Spring finally returned, she would miss the snowfall. For the first time in many years it meant something entirely different to her. She'd made her choice in it, she'd fled in it, she'd married in it, and likely one of the nights where she and Erik had shared their passions, their children were conceived, had been a night graced by it. She smiled, yes, the snow would be special to her forever more.

She returned to her cup, sinking the small tea ball into it. She lifted the saucer and cake plate taking it back down to the library. As she left the kitchen she glanced to the left. Her mind would not leave it alone…she was drawn to it.

She looked down the hall, standing still listening. She heard no sounds. No doubt everyone was so exhausted from their labors that day, they'd either already fallen asleep or were well on their way to it. She breathed in…perhaps she could look for that book one more time…in the study.

She moved very quietly down the corridor to the left. Her hands were full, making it impossible to use them to open the door. She tried to balance everything in one hand and nearly dropped the lot of it on the ground. She stood silently, when no one appeared she tried to use her elbow to open the door. It wouldn't budge. She sighed. She returned to the kitchen, abandoning the teacup saucer in the sink. She slid her plate of cake over the top of her cup. Now with it firmly in hand, she could balance it.

She walked back to the door, using her hand she pushed the door to the side, sliding it closed. She went over to the desk, sitting the cup and plate down on the top. She looked around, there was just enough light from the moon flooding the room that she shan't need to light a lamp.

She felt about the drawer, making certain that it was truly locked and simply not stuck or jammed into the frame. Old wood desks had a tendency to do that, though she doubted Erik would have tolerated it. Tugging on it she could feel the lock fitted tightly, yes, it was indeed locked. She wondered if the ring of keys that Erik had shown her would contain the one for this desk. Though she didn't think so, she was certain he'd covered each one with her in detail, she didn't recall any superfluous keys on the ring that had gone unexplained. But she'd have to check.

She rose from the chair in front of the desk. She'd have to travel back to their bedroom, the keys were carefully stowed there inside one of the busts he had in a corner. Really he was clever, tucking them inside the bust made them nearly impossible to find unless you knew they were there. She slipped the door open and closed it quietly behind her.

She'd abandoned the cup and plate on the top of the desk. The tea was steeping nicely in the cup. The coolness of the room causing a smooth layer of condensation to form on the outer shell, slowly sliding down the side, a beaded layer of sweat coming to rest around the lower rim at the base that rested against the wood. It would sit until Christine returned, and by most…the evidence of it being there, would go undetected.

Christine easily made her way up to their room with nary a sound. She'd stopped to re-belt the robe that hung around her. Erik was so much taller than she, and had a much larger structure, she was certain it looked entirely ridiculous as it hung on her petite frame, but she shan't care. It was as close as she could get to actually having his arms around her.

Upon opening the door to their master chamber, a chill passed her in a sudden gush. The fire had died long hours before, and now only a fragmented smoldering ember lay at the bottom of the fireplace. She walked over to the corner to retrieve the keys, she paused, she could hear Erik's voice in her head. He'd admonished her to never retrieve the keys nor any of the other hidden items in the room with the doors open, for one never knows who might be watching. She smiled slightly. True obedience was something that was done even when no one was there to witness it. As she closed the door, she thought she saw something out of the corner of her eye, but she shook her head, it had been her imagination. She pulled the door closed, and then proceeded to retrieve the keys.

Just outside the room, next to the linen wardrobe stood a figure in the darkness. It was the elder maid, come to check on the fire in the master chamber. She'd been startled by Elizabeth's appearance and had hid in the shadows undetected. She wondered about this young bride of her employer's. She was so much younger than he, she simply did not know how they'd come to marry, or where she'd come from at all for that matter. Here she was, the lady of the house, lounging around in men's night garments, traipsing about at all hours. She shook her head. This household had gotten entirely too strange for her. Had he not been so generous, she'd have thought about leaving for another. She descended the stairs shaking her head. "Odd indeed," she muttered to herself.

Christine had stopped to rekindle the fire. After she'd returned to the library to collect the letter she'd written to Erik, she would retire to the bedroom. Last night had been entirely wonderful, and she'd not trade it for any comfort in the world. But tonight, she longed for the soft comforts of her own bed.

She padded quietly back down to the study. The rather large brass ring in the pocket of Erik's robe. She'd not sensed anyone stirred, much to her relief. She slipped into the room, closing the door softly behind her. She made her way over to the large, very masculine chair that sat in front of Erik's desk. She sat down with the ring of keys in hand. The first was far too large, the second though it entered the lock it would not turn. The third, fourth, fifth, and sixth proved not to be matches. She'd worked her way all the way through the ring to no avail.

She sat back in the chair, a childish scowl on her face. What would he need to keep from her? Yes she wanted to respect him, yes she wanted to trust him. Perhaps she needed to rest her curiosity and simply ask when he returned. But no…how could she confess she'd gone through all of the keys…what if he'd actually meant to keep the drawer a secret. For all he'd given her couldn't she afford him this one little bit of privacy? Wouldn't he do the same for her if she'd but ask him?

She sat back, suddenly feeling as immature as a school girl whose friend withheld a secret from her. Perhaps it was for her own good. Oh that infernal curiosity! She sat up. NO. She'd told herself. It is Erik's business. Perhaps he'd just missed telling her about that drawer, and perhaps he never would speak of it. If she loved him…respected him…she had to let well enough be. She stood, deciding to take her cake and tea back to the library. She lifted the cake plate, and then the tea cup into her hands as she made her way to the door, closing it behind her, keys tucked neatly into the pocket of the robe. The small circle of beaded water sat on the edge of Erik's fine mahogany desk….

XXX

The carriage house and stable were buzzing. They'd found and uncorked a number of bottles of wine. The ham dinner had been consumed right down to the last scrap. Cards were strewn about on the table, and a small collection of woman huddled over by the fire exchanging stories of storms they'd been through, and of other households they'd worked for. Though they varied in age, the lot of them had one thing in common, they'd spent the lion's share of their life in service to others.

The men sat now down out in the stables. There was only one real place that was safe for partaking of the cigars that had been passed around, and that was the graveled floor of the stall reserved for the blacksmith. They'd all huddled in there, with the exception of a few men who preferred to hole up in their dormitories in the loft with a good book. They'd all be up throughout the night on their watches, though it seemed unnecessary in light of the storm. They'd also decided to take turns keeping several shovels moving snow and sand so that all the labors of the day weren't defeated in the morning. They needed to clear a larger path for the animals to use as well.

Raoul had made his way out to the stables just minutes before thanking the men for their work, and to bid the women to retire to the house for the evening. He knew that there was nothing like a heavy snow, women by a warm fire, and close proximity to put even the most reticent woman in a precarious situation. He'd trusted all of the men in his stable, though one never truly knew another man did they? He'd waited for them to collect their things and bid the gentlemen good evening. As he escorted them back to the house, he thanked them each by name. He also asked if they'd be so kind as to lend Madeline a hand before they retired. She'd been tending to their needs all the while, and preparing all of the meals. The least he could do is to shoo her off to bed a bit earlier than the rest.

"Good evening ladies," Raoul said as he closed the door to the kitchen, returning to his guests in the drawing room. His father was just commenting on the new additions of two framed watercolors he'd not seen before when Raoul walked into the room.

Meg's face was aflush, she looked desperately at Raoul. He smiled at her, he'd forgotten to mention it. "Why those?" Raoul said as he walked into the room.

"Yes, son, it seems you've been doing a lot of redecorating as of late!" Raoul did not miss the sarcasm in his father's words…he pouted still of Raoul's choice to remove his portrait.

"Those are of particular importance to me." Raoul moved toward them, not taking his eyes off of Meg, it was as if she was the only other person in the room. "They were painted by two young lovers, not long before the young man proposed to her."

Meg's heart nearly leaped from her chest. She was entirely certain he'd either misspoken, or she'd misheard.

"Really….!" Nadir said, making the easy transition between what Raoul was saying and what he was doing. Nadir looked back and forth between Raoul and Meg. There was a certain glow between them as their eyes were locked on one another.

"However did you get them?" Raoul looked at his father, sometimes, he thought, his father was entirely too obtuse. "Oh, I'd come by them naturally, and had them framed up just a day ago in the workshop." Raoul said, smiling politely at his father.

Madame Giry sat silently listening…hadn't Raoul and Meg been dabbling with watercolors not several days ago in the garden? She though to herself.

Raoul walked purposefully toward Meg, sitting next to her on the divan. The group, as if on cue, all turned their attentions back to the table that held the bowl of questions in the center. They'd gone through each and every one, no surprises remained in it.

Madame Giry's hand flew to her mouth, covering a deep yawn that she'd tried to stifle without success. "I hope you do not mind my suggesting it, but I think we could all benefit from a bit of sleep, though I've not done even enough to earn my salt these last few days…it is entirely exhausting!" The group laughed. Raoul's father was wide-eyed and bushy tailed. He'd plenty of sleep. With the snows as deep as a horse wagon outside, he knew Nadir would not be getting to Paris on the morrow. Perhaps he could coax him into staying awake with him for a nightcap.

**Author's Notes:**

**Dear Faithfuls**: Sorry this chapter is a bit shorter than the rest. The ideas needed to stay together for the sake of continuity. I hope everyone is have a nice fall, wherever in the world this story finds you!

**Captain Oblivious**: I too was having a fit of nostalgia as I penned this chapter. There have been so many people in my life that fit all of those descriptions, and I love and appreciate them all. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could go back and thank all of those people? But alas we cannot. I guess all we can do now is to, from this point forward, appreciate all those whose paths we now cross.

No apology needed my dear…school work is very important, and no doubt work helps you afford school, so both are worthy commanders of your attention. Have a good night! And for goodness sakes, try to get in some sleep. I do not want for you and Susie to have an accident…after all who would look after Chris for you?

**Phantomsrogue**: I do appreciate your concern. My dear do not think that I would run off with your idea….unlike the Crawlings family in our little story…I shan't be making off with anything that does not belong to me! LOL! And yes, you are correct. It would be the most profound story of obsession…perhaps written nearly like a treatise….have you ever read any of John Locke's works? There were many theories out there about the human condition at the time. It would be very interesting to weave all of the things that were going on in Paris at the time….the revolution just over, the rise and fall of the Paris Commune, Marx theory on revolution, and writings of the 'Communist Manifesto', the death of prominent writers such as Dickens (my favorite), my goodness the possibilities are endless. I do think it would be good to start thinking about, although until this story is finished, this shall be my primary passion….you understand.

Yes, I'm certain Ann Rice would love this sort of thing…though how much creative license she would allow us, I do not know. You know the more I think of it I can just see the look on both the Phantom's and Lestat's faces when they see each other fully for the first time, in full recognition of what each other are….would Lestat try to overcome the Phantom, or respect him for his ability to be mortal but of immortal qualities…oh how he might envy the fact that Erik could actually die a mortals death…to enjoy a meal not of mere juices of the flesh, to actually feel the touch of skin, to go out into the light of day if he chooses to. Would Louis go to the Phantom for a touch of the humanness that he had with a mortal soul but the ramblings of a mind so battered by obsession and solitude that his suffering was not unlike that of his own…. Ahhh yes, the obsession of the mind…. O.K., now I have to stop, I'm getting goose bumps…

**PhantomFan13:** Yes, Madeline's English…I do like your twist on the fact that maybe she is something more than she appears, though that was not my intention I must admit in my haste, and my need for her to communicate that I let her character slip just a bit from the original. I shall have to go back and revise this…

Erik is not out of the woods just yet my dear, though I say things are getting a little further along!

**Crayann**: Good to hear from you my dear! Thank you for your kind words. I too have known friendships such as these. Some very brief but intense, some that have leaguered, and then renewed and the leaguered again, then those whose binds have been tightly fastened for many years. Each one is special in their own unique way, and yes, there are several in my life that I would indeed go to the point of death for….perhaps this chapter provided a bit more insight into my own soul than I'd first intended…after all, what is prose but an extension of the one who pens it?

**ChristineluvsErik**: You made me laugh for the first time today! I like your attitude, nothing will stand in your way? Awwwwhhh…I'm blushing in humility. Yes, each and every one of Erik's pains makes me worry too…he hasn't been out of bed all that long since he's been awake, and just like the doctor thought, Erik continues to push himself too hard. I think we can all think of people that we know that are like that! LOL Though that is not me….if I'm hurt, I'm rather like a whimpering puppy looking for its mommy.

**Draegon-fire**: My dear, my heart goes out to you…more than you might know. Raising children is by far the highest calling in life, and difficult enough to do within a committed marriage relationship. But when one is called upon to do this task alone….it takes a special type of fortitude to do it…an inner strength that I think most people do not recognize nor understand. Single moms especially, have to be both warrior and caregiver, provider and teacher, compassionate yet stern. It makes love stories such as this one even more intense, more poignant for those who have once loved and are now alone for whatever reason. We all want to be loved…deserved to be loved. Single parents must demonstrate love, and have the ability to teach their children that true committed love is possible, even if they aren't able to show them of it at the present time. I give you much credit for trying to hold all of this together, working, family…etc. I am glad you found our Phamily, and have stayed with us!

**BatteredChild**: First, welcome to the Phamily! We hope your stay with us will be a long and happy one. Thank you for the compliment, and for your willingness to read so very many chapters to get this far! I always feel like we should give badges of honor for those who make it passed Chapter 100! I am happy you liked Nadir's speech…I think it is particularly telling of how people interact with one another and how we have many types of relationships with people throughout our life time and that we should appreciate all of them for what they were designed to be.

Now, no doubt you've read some of the other reviews, so you know of our little tradition….guessing of tag names…but I must admit…I shuddered when I thought of it…perhaps we shall break with tradition just this once, and have you tell us yourself how you arrived at your tag name….though do not feel obligated to do so if you'd prefer not.


	130. Dream Sequence

Chapter 130 Dream Sequence 

_**Author's Caution:**_

_**Dear Faithfuls**: This is a most odd chapter indeed. It may be difficult to interpret at first, but if read as though you were Erik, fading in and out of consciousness from the exposure to the elements, it may help your perception. It is my hope that this will provide some missing information from parts of Erik's life, and his first encounters with Christine, though I've no doubt it will raise as many questions as it answers. Enjoy_

Erik looked out through his frozen eyes. The lashes that surrounded those intense spheres of fiery green and blue were encrusted with tiny crystals of saline ice. He no longer had control over the muscles in his face. His thought process had slowed like a glacier passing over his conscious mind. He was not entirely certain that what he thought he saw in the distance wasn't a mirage, akin to the kind one would see in the dessert after too long an exposure to the elements. A merciful reprieve from the present agony that would undeniably do you in, lead to your unavoidable demise.

Erik's every movement had become excruciating slow. They were almost not motion at all. As he stood at the crest of the frozen temporal mountain that rose from the surface of the earth, he looked down at the figures that seemed to be journeying toward him. His chest rose and fell inconspicuously, as though his movements had nearly come to a dead still. He could feel the woman in his arms, though they felt as if they were no longer attached to his torso. They were rigidly frozen in place, neither releasing nor fully embracing even that which they held.

Erik's mind wandered off to a place far from where he was. His mind was trying to distance him from the present horrors…..it had traveled this way so many times before…trying to block out the present with the past, and it had been a recent development that this was the lesser of the two evils.

Erik found himself wandering in his mind to the place where he'd last been with her. Scrolling before him flashes from when he was a boy in the clutches of a woman he could barely remember, being pushed inside, let out only when it was dark, being kept away from every other child he could hear and see. The gypsies, the cages, the filth, the beatings, the pain. The pitiful face of the young girl who helped him escape after his most impulsive grievous act of the self-defense. The kindness, the first blanket, the first bed from the dormitories, the first set of clothing from the props of the Opera House, the food she would bring, the conversations through the wall in the chapel, the music she'd given him, the books, the candlesticks.

Erik blinked. The lashes surrounding his eyes layered heavily with frost and crystals of ice felt like sharp jagged rakes being dragged across the surface of his tender eyes. The figures were getting larger though they seemed yet so far away. His formidable figure standing, motionless at the top of the drift as the winds blew his cape up, flapping behind him in the wind like a great black sail of a sea going vessel on its maiden voyage.

He blinked again. His mind took him back to the Opera House. The first room he'd fashioned stone by stone in the grotto beyond the lake. The first time he'd watched a production from the rafters far above the stage after witnessing the hours and hours of practice. The first note he'd left in critique of a performance. The first time he was referred to as a ghost when he'd removed something from a set replacing it with something else he'd suggested but they'd failed to do. The first time he'd demanded a salary because Madame Giry needed something her salary could not provide. The first man he'd terrified in order to protect himself. His flight from the Opera House when his friend left to marry. The first time he laid eyes on Nadir when he'd rescued him from the hands of that mob.

Erik blinked again. His mind easily making the transition from past dreams to present pains. Yes there were most decidedly two of them moving in his direction, though it were dark, he could tell it was two.

His mind was again reeling back to the warmth of the sun in Persia where he and Nadir first met THEM… The deal they'd made, the deception, the imprisonment, the torture.

Erik blinked again. His face turning precipitously to a painful scorn. He thought he could feel tears of hate forming in his eyes though he knew it shan't be possible, he could feel next to nothing.

His mind scrolled to when Nadir had rescued him from the certain fate of death for refusing her. They'd parted ways never knowing if they'd see one another again. Nadir's painful goodbye…his admonishing Erik to forget, to go back to the Opera House, that he would come for him when it was safe to return and wage their revenge. He saw Madame Giry again, now pregnant with her first child, and how he'd marveled at the change in his compassionate friend. He saw Meg as a baby as Madame Giry brought her in for him to see under the cloak of night. How he'd held her, the first innocent life he'd ever been allowed to touch. His mind scrolled through Meg walking for the first time, her first words.

He blinked, his eye twitching as he recalled Meg and Madame Giry crying after the loss of their father and husband. How Madame Giry had returned to the Opera House when Meg was but a small girl, for she'd no way to support her without a husband. He remembered the feeling of both happiness and anguish as he welcomed her with open arms back to the Opera House. The subsequent years as he grew in power and myth, from specter to legend.

He blinked once more, he could see it was two small figures…children? No. Women? Yes….most decidedly two woman. His chest rose and fell, a frosty breath rising as the weight of the sleet covered his cloak now, lowering it in the wind. An icy glaze was forming on his frame from crown to pediment…he'd become part of the landscape if left to the hands of mother nature.

His mind flowed to Christine. The first night she'd come to the Opera House. He could hear her crying as she knelt beside her bed, he above her in the rafters watching with curious eyes at the deep pain of such a tender soul. Listening with intent ears as she rose her prayers to the heavens….revealing what she needed most….an angel…. He remembered the first time he'd spoken to her…the terror in her eyes…then his soothing words…his comforting explanation that he was indeed the very angel her father had spoken of…come to be her guardian…her guide. The years as they grew together…the stories he'd tell her to quiet her fears…her sorrows…how she'd listen looking out in the darkness believing him to be her angel of music.

He inhaled, the icy air adding to the chill deep within his lungs. His eyes searching the dark night sky that hovered above them. He closed his eyes….was there no mercy left in this world for them?

His mind reeled yet again. He remembered the night she first raised her voice with his….that small beautiful voice as pure and true as a mountain stream babbling over virgin stone. It was among the precious memories, emblazoned forever in the most sacred part of his heart. His mind wandered from lesson to lesson as her voice grew and his heart swelled.

He blinked again, a breath escaping him once more, his arms felt heavy as though they could barely hold the load in them. He looked down, the large lump beneath the cloak was a woman he barely knew, but a life…a life worth saving.

He raised his head, watching the forms struggling over the snow. He couldn't move, he couldn't speak, he did what he only could….wait for them to reach him, take her from his arms…rescue her…before it was too late.

He blinked again. He saw Christine as a young girl, running back and forth with Meg in the gardens behind the Opera House playing hide and seek as the sun was setting, he watching from the roof. His mind leaped through years, whirling to the night he'd taken her through the mirror, when he was no longer an illusion. Oh the look…that precious look on her face as she beheld him for the first time…man of flesh and bone, not specter, not ghost, not apparition…a man. Their first embrace. The titillating sensation of his hands finally being able to touch her; it was as potent as if she were oxygen and he was breathing for the very first time. The depths of the Opera House when he'd taken her there…to his lair…the grotto where he'd hoped she'd want to stay with him forever.

Erik blinked again. The painful present would not release him…and he would not release the past that was moving through his mind…it was far too sweet a memory to abandon.

The figures had reached the top of the drift across from him, they were making the slow, precarious descent down the side of the perilous drift. His mind wandered back to lying her down in the swan bed…the one he'd carved lovingly with his own hands. It had taken him a year's time. It had been a labor of love, of hope, of wanting. He could see in his mind when she'd woke in it. Oh how he'd wanted to believe she would love him without question. A lump grew in his throat. The memory was so painfully bittersweet.

The memory of her removing the mask from his face, when he'd thrown her to the ground… Erik felt a sob rise to his throat, how was it possible that he'd done this to such a precious creature? He saw her face as he took her back to the surface, placing a kiss on her cheek, promising to be with her always, to be her guard, her guide, her teacher, her friend. Inwardly he was dying…he wanted to love her…he thought all hope was lost. He remembered the look on her face as she promised to visit him, to not be afraid, that he'd always be her angel. A gasp rose to Erik's mouth, he closed his eyes. Oh how he'd thought it would be the same, but it wasn't, he couldn't go back to angel…he'd revealed himself…he could never go back.

His mind raced to the roof of the Opera House, to Raoul's proposal, Christine's confession of horrors unknown by others, what she'd seen…oh the betrayal he'd felt that night! His vengeance boiling to the very surface of his being….that old hatred, blood-thirst he'd thought he'd left behind him in Persia, rising to the top of his soul until it had spilled over that night in the cemetery…he'd been so close to bringing Christine home with him then. How she'd left with that boy.

Erik could feel his knees shaking, they felt like splintering timbers. He knew his body was slowly succumbing to the cold, there was nothing to be done. His mind rushed to the production of Don Juan, to the final confession of love from her lips…her choice…the cave…the first meal they shared, the sweet peaches, the biscuits, the new dress, their journey to her father's grave, the acceptance of his flawed flesh as her husband, their final release as they loved one another as they had always longed to…their flight from Paris…that night at the Candlelight Inn….

Erik exhaled. A tear, it formed inside though it could not find the surface of his eye. Those months she'd been alone without him, as he slept. His mind was full of dreams only of conversations he'd heard, though his mind was devoid of images to accompany the memory of them. The first flutterings of the curtains above his bed at Courtland Manor. The first glimpse he had of her when he realized he was alive. The words she had carefully chosen to tell him he would be a father…oh how his heart had soared that night! He though he could feel himself smiling, though he knew he could not be. The joy they shared as she laid in his arms for the first time in so very long…the discovery of his altered flesh. His anger…his impatience with those that had cared for him that long while. Their departure to the winter house…..

His mind whirled to Meg…the horror of the events that took place there flashing so quickly by his mind. Sara's death at the hands of that boy….the trip to Chauesser, the night he'd first seen the woman he now held in his arms…Nicole….her pleading eyes asking him not to be angry….Christine telling him not to be afraid….his flight back to the winter house when he'd thought Christine to be in danger….the news of their children….their first tender night together alone in that house….his love song for her as the storm raged….the man at the door…the dog sled…the window….

Erik blinked heavily, there were two figures now climbing the very mountain of snow he stood on. Soon they would reach him…then he would know if it was his mind playing cruel tricks on him, or if there really was hope for them. He closed his eyes…it would all be over soon.

XXXX

"Mother…" Nicole pulled on her mother's cloak. Her mother's face was covered with frozen tears. The biting wind, and stinging sleet had not deterred any of them from doing what they knew they must. "Mother…." Nicole came along side her. She too was delirious, and entirely disappointed. "Mother!" Nicole grabbed her mother's shoulder.

"What if he's not seen her….I think it's the man mother, but it is so dark…I cannot tell, but I do not see her…mother…why is he just standing there…why doesn't he move?"

Her mother turned around, handling Nicole as gruffly as she'd ever in her life. "Nicole, I do not know…I do not know why he stands motionless, why he doesn't call out…why he stands there if he's not found her…" Her mother gasped.. "perhaps he does know something…perhaps he's found her…" Her mother brought her frost covered hand to her mouth, a pitiful moan coming from deep within her.

Nicole grabbed her mother, taking her shoulders into hers as they pulled themselves up the side of the drift. There he stood, motionless, cape fluttering just slightly…it was like he was frozen as stone, unable to move…

As they came within the last few yards of him, he turned his head down toward them, watching with his penetrating eyes. The wind was whirling around them, the sleet fell with such great force it felt like steely knives piercing any exposed flesh.

Nicole and her mother closed the distance between them and the man that stood looking down rather ominously. Once they'd reached him, Nicole's mother threw herself at his feet.

It was then that Erik realized in the pain of the movement from her actions that it had not been his imagination, they were there, they were real. Nicole pulled herself up behind her mother, looking pleadingly up into Erik's eyes. Her eyes as chilled and bleary as his felt.

He looked at this poor grieving young woman, and his heart felt warmth for the first time since he'd left home that morning. In her eyes he saw the love that she felt for her grandmother. Though she said nothing, Erik knew what she longed to see.

He closed his eyes, dropping to his knees. Now looking up at her, he inhaled and exhaled slowly, the heat from his lungs rising in a frosty breath towards the heavens. He looked down at his cloak and then back up at Nicole. She glanced at his cloak, and he nodded. She leaned down, reaching out, lifting the corner of it. Underneath she saw several tattered, moth eaten blankets. Her heart raced. She grasped her mother's shoulder that now shook from the wretched fit of sobs that had taken over her.

Her mother looked up to the point that Nicole had exposed. She gasped, lifting the other side of his cloak. She began digging feverishly under the blankets until she'd uncovered, that which she sought. Her face lit with both agony and relief. She leaned down kissing her mother's forehead, reaching out to grab her hand…it was cold. She shrieked, falling back onto her hands in the snow.

Nicole looked at Erik, "Monsieur?" Erik managed to bring his voice forth, "do not cry woman…she lives." Erik fell further down until his knees buckled beneath him and he lurched back into the snow, the old woman splayed out onto his chest.

Nicole gasped. She saw the blood she'd not seen before, but she couldn't tell where it had come from. There was much of it, and it was soaked into both of their clothing. She yelled, "Mother, we must bring them inside, bring them where it is warm lest they both perish."

Her mother had been rocking back and forth on her knees crying. "How Nicole….how are we going to bring them anywhere….we've no way to even carry ourselves back to warmth…we shall all die out here, stranded in the snow in a city that had been in the full bloom of spring not three days ago…they will find us frozen forms, dead, all of us…every one."

Her mother was hysterical, and though she'd come to regret it, Nicole did the only thing she could, she reached out slapping her mother across the face. The woman lurched forward on top of the man and her grandmother.

Nicole sat back on her haunches, looking down at the pile of limbs and flesh that was in front of her. Then she looked around, there was nothing to be done, she'd might as well throw herself in with the heap relinquishing her life to her fate. Lying down along with them on the frozen ground, she sighed. And there was silence.

XXXXX

Christine sat straight up on the divan. "No, no…" Her mind was playing tricks…cruel horrible tricks on her. In the sleep she'd just been in she saw Erik laying on his back, a crumpled pile of black cloaks laying around him in the freshly falling snow. "No," she shook her head resolutely, he'd promised he'd come back to her….and she knew that he would…he'd promised.

Christine moved over next to the fire, wrapping the robe more tightly about her middle.

As she sat herself on the floor in front of the divan, she rubbed her hand over her stomach. He'd be a good father one day very soon…he was a good husband…he'd come back to her. She closed her head leaning it forward as she raised a simple prayer. "Protect him, help him…bring him back to me….to us. Amen." It was in God's hands now.

She pulled down the blanket from the cushion. She nestled her head into the folds of it as she laid down curled into a little ball in front of the fire. It had his scent, and suddenly she felt close to him…closer on the floor in a ball than sitting on a divan….One hand protectively over her stomach, the other a handful of blanket pulled up beneath her head. She'd rest there for now…it just felt right.

XXXX

The bitter winds ravaged the small heap of flesh that lay on the crest of that drift. Off in the distance could be heard the crack of a whip, and the shouts of a half-dozen men. They'd come looking…it had been too long.

**Author's Notes**:

**Dear Faithfuls**: It is entirely possible that I will be out of town a few days next week on assignment, and won't be able to update. I don't know for certain which days though Monday and Tuesday are the strongest candidates at this point. But I will let you know with Friday's chapter. I don't like to leave anyone hanging out there!

**Phantomsrogue**: Yes, I am a bit reticent, but I'd like to agree to, as you suggest, a cooperative effort to fashion the story as you suggested. I hesitate only because I know it might be some time before this story is finished, there is still so much ground to cover. Although I think a bit of preliminary brainstorming wouldn't be all that bad. No, I'd not forgotten the Bohemian revolution at all…there was so much going on in Paris at the time, so very much, it will be difficult to weave it all together…and it will indeed be a dark tale, one of much mystery and intrigue! We shall talk further of this! But I must leave this subject with one final detail…what if Lestat HAD been able to catch the Phantom unaware, and in a moment of utter insanity that they'd later both come to regret, Lestat did indeed "infect" the Phantom, but in turn had been weakened in an odd way by Erik's own blood…perhaps what was mortal would be immortal, and what had been immortal would be once again vulnerable to the ultimate fate of mortals…. hmmmm…makes one think a bit doesn't it! Laughs nefariously!

Yes, Raoul's rash blurting of his emotions! He didn't propose exactly, there was a subtle, o.k., not so subtle nuance there. Yes, I would imagine that there would be a family bauble lurking about….but that could be…let us just say….rather difficult to explain just now…hmmmm….I can hear the cogs of your inquisitive mind working already! Yes, angst to come…really….have you come to expect anything less from me? LOL

**WriterMuseoftheNight**: My goodness another inquisitive mind! No, our dear handsome Erik shall not be robbed of his handsomeness…he's waited far too long for it…although that doesn't mean there won't be complications…for every warning not heeded, leads to an eventual consequence. I rather like Erik as the handsome man we all know him to be…oh…he is the stuff that dreams are made of! Yes, the water on the desk, I perhaps tried to emphasize that a bit too much, but I wanted it to stick in the mind of the readers…it too has a purpose…. I am glad you are liking the development of Erik and Raoul. No doubt you've caught on to some of the similarities that I've tried to tuck in there…both romantic…both quite without a mother now…both longing for a father, though in different ways. Yet I am playing the opposites, those things that polarize them. In real life siblings can be as different as night and day….hmm…I shall say no more.

Now, as the explanation of your tag name…I shall open the floor to you…it sounds like there might be more to the "story" than what you'd first told us. So…if you'd like to elaborate, please feel free.

**Foreverphantoms**: Sorry for the angst…no doubt you could do without any additional stress in your life right now! I had to laugh (I hope that doesn't offend you) when I read about how you've listened to your POTO CD…I've done the same thing. I have honestly listened to it every, yes…every day since I first bought it the second night I watched the movie in the theaters and that was months ago. I still get goosebumps during 'The Music of The Night'… My sisters and brothers, along with their spouses think I am quite mad…oh if they only knew the half of it! Not one of them know that I am penning this fic, and would likely have me committed if they knew how much time I spent immersed in the world of POTO! So, that to say, I understand what you mean! Oh…your own little Erik…too bad your husband wouldn't let you name him Erik…maybe it can be your private "pet" name for him! I am so very happy for you and your husband. To have found the love of your life…and to have such a wonderful family….that is far better than any fairytale. Perhaps your husband doesn't understand that POTO awakens the deepest, most passionate side of women…it just makes us feel more alive…not that it makes you love the man in your life any less…in fact it may make you love him more! Sounds crazy doesn't it? Too bad he's not willing to share your passion of the movie with you…I wish I could encourage him for you!

Oh how I smiled when you mentioned that your husband is making a CD for your new son! You might recall from a previous chapter, that our dear Erik is writing an entire set of lullabies for each of his children…at least that is his plan! It is good to hear that your little one is doing o.k. Preemies are pretty resilient, and you mentioned he was feisty…a very good sign!

Yes, hopelessly addicted to Gerard as the Phantom…yes, you've delved into the world of my obsession! If you want a treat go on the internet to a sight called Rapid Share and look for the free video that one of his fans did…its set to the song 'Addicted' by Kelly Clarkson. If you can't find it, let me know, and I'll try to get the exact address for you. But be warned, you'll need at least an hour, because though it is only several minutes long, you'll want to watch it, and watch it, and watch it again! I'm sorry, I know time is precious for you…but if you want a mini-escape, this might be the ticket!

Thank you for your words of encouragement. I really do revel in what reviewers mention. If this story has helped anyone in any way, provided a distraction from current worries, or entertainment, lightened anyone's heart or day…then I feel so very blessed to have been able to do it. Yes, it has consumed a good portion of my free-time these last months, but it feels so very good for my heart. I always knew they should be together…but I never imagined when I'd penned the first chapter that I would find myself where I am now…or that anyone would share the journey with me. I am more grateful than anyone would ever imagine. So, thank you…

**Batteredchild**: You are most welcome for the welcome! Thank you for your compliment on the chapter. Yes, I am a fan of foreshadowing, though this was much more blatant than I am normally…I needed it to be obvious…I cannot say why just now. Yes, poor Erik. He is finding out the hard way that living on the surface of the world is a bit more difficult than he'd thought…it might leave him longing for some solitude…..hmmmm. Your name from a song…it is funny how music move us isn't it?

**Draegon-fire**: I am glad to hear that I did not offend you with my ramblings. I do think single moms are very special. Our beloved Gerard was raised by a single mom, and I think you'll find that there are many great actors, poets, scientists, etc. who were all raised by single moms. Not that we all wouldn't want there to be a complete family, but there is something special about growing up in those situations that can really make a life stronger as long as it is channeled for the positive instead of the negative. I've a bit of poetry that I'd written about single moms in fact. I'd be happy to share it with you if you'd like.

Yes, the characters are on their journey toward their purpose, as are we all. There is much to be accomplished yet, and I've no idea how many more chapters it will take to get them there. Just when things seem to be headed in one direction, they take a precipitous detour in another! Yes, I too am curious as to what Erik might be hiding in that drawer!


	131. Rescued

Chapter 131 Rescued…. 

The winds howled fiercely as a fresh wave of snow began to fall. The men had pushed the sled over the largest drifts as the dogs had struggled and failed. They were tired, they were all tired. Their snow shoes had proven to be of limited use as what now fell was a miniscule layer over the glassy sloping crusts that had formed on the drifts. They'd taken picks and shovels to push through the ice as anchors just to stay afoot.

"There, up there, I see something!" One of them shouted. They'd been trying to follow the path that Nicole's mother had suggested to the innkeeper that they would travel. The first man pushed up the hill with two picks as anchors. He struggled, but finally reached the top. Looking down he saw a large mass of black fabric blowing in the wind. There were arms and legs sticking out in various directions and positions.

"Lord, they've frozen to death!" The one man shrieked as he pulled the first cloak from the heap of flesh. The remaining four men, finally reaching the first. They stood in a circle surrounding them. Looking down they shook their heads. The first they'd uncovered was Nicole. Her face was caked with hair frozen to her cheek, a layer of snow covering her exposed cheek. The largest of the men pushed through the others.

"Let's be having them then. We shan't be leaving them here. We'll be taking them back to the tavern either way, let's put them on the sled before the storm swells.

They carefully lifted Nicole from the top. She moaned. "This one's alive!" The sled driver, who'd turned his back so as not to bear witness to the carnage, turned abruptly. He was relieved to see who they put in the sled first. His daughter would be entirely relieved.

He quickly covered her with a horse blanket. Next they pried Nicole's mother from the old woman's side. She was cold but she too moaned when they forced at her limbs. The flesh on her inner cheek, the one that had been lying on the old woman's chest was warm to the touch. They loaded her onto the sled next to Nicole. Next, two men carefully removed the old woman from Erik's arms. He'd held her so tightly but now his arms gave way at their bidding. She they nestled in between the two other women on the sled.

The one man said, "they probably saved her life, putting her in the middle of them like they did." Lastly the four men went to retrieve Erik. He was a large man, strong, and sturdy. They turned him over on his side. "Good Lord the man's covered in blood, but where's it coming from?"

The one man backed away a bit, the larger two men stepped up and heaved Erik onto the third man's shoulders. "It matters little where the blood is coming from now, if we don't be getting them somewhere warm. I'd say he faired the worst, his back was buried in the ice and snow. His pulse is faint, but he has breath."

The sled driver breathed a sigh of relief. He'd felt responsible for bringing the man away from his wife and household. Yes, it had been at the man's bidding that he'd taken him with, but he felt responsible still. That in fact is why he'd found himself in Chauesser again after the snow subsided from the first wave. He'd wanted to take the man back to his house, to the young woman who bid him farewell that very morning. It had been one of the most pitiful sights he'd seen in a long while. His heart broke for her as they'd pulled away from that house.

Before long they had all four of them loaded on the sled. The trip back would be much swifter, a track and path they'd created would make traversing the hills much less arduous. "Mush!" The man called out to his dogs, the sled lurched forward. Now they'd have a foothold in the drifts.

XXXXXXX

Back at the tavern they'd prepared three makeshift beds in front of the large hearth at the front of the dining room. They'd no real hope that they would find the old woman, they only hoped they'd found the three of them and with any fortune would return them safely there.

The innkeeper was busying his staff. "Basin's of hot water, some warm soup, a change of clothing, I don't care what it is, just warm and dry."

The young man walked next to him nodding, "and some bandages, and pillows too." The innkeeper nodded.

"I'm thankful to find you here tonight sir. I'd say your grandfather would be proud of you just now."

"Stop with your flattery sir. I've done nothing worthy of praise." He looked at him with all the seriousness a man of twenty odd years could. He was just a year out of medical school. He'd traveled to Chauesser to honor a wish that his grandfather had requested of him when he'd provided the funds to go to college. It was mere chance, as far as he was concerned that he'd found himself there in the first place.

"Sir, if they've been out in this weather for as long as you say, there may be little hope of saving them, and if we are blessed, they won't lose limbs over it." He looked down at his boots, a brief look of sadness overtook his face, he blinked, his face returning to its stoic gaze, he looked back up at the innkeeper. "My first year in medical school we'd no short supply of amputations due to cold exposure." He looked around, and then leaned in closer so as not to have anyone else hear. "You do have, do you not a hand saw …one you'd use for trimming trees and shrubbery?"

The innkeeper looked at him with a level of horror that could not be concealed. "Surely you jest doctor!"

The doctor looked down shaking his head side to side. "I'd not jest about that sir, I can assure you it is not a matter for even the most morose of humors."

The innkeeper looked ashen. "Do have someone fetch it for you, but keep it concealed in a blanket. Let us pray that it isn't needed. We shan't want to frighten anyone."

The innkeeper nodded, unable to utter his response. He walked resolutely over to one of the young men in his employ, whispering in his ear. The young man glanced at the doctor…he looked as if he'd be ill.

"And a bottle of, no two bottles of vodka if you have it." The doctor called out to the young man. He simply turned and walked away.

The innkeeper returned to the doctor's side. "It shall be done." The doctor nodded. "Then all we've to do now is wait." The innkeeper nodded.

"Come, let us sit, have some coffee, I dare say this may very well be a rather long night." as the two men walked over to the bench by the fire, the innkeeper said, "you won't be minding if I'd make mine a brandy now would you?"

The doctor chuckled a little. "I should say not, perhaps I'll join you myself later." The men sat on the bench. They'd wait for their arrival. Successful or no, they'd be back soon enough.

XXXX

Raoul had bid Nadir and his father goodnight, escorting Madame Giry and Meg up to their rooms. He'd taken Madame Giry to her room first, leaning over he kissed both of her cheeks. "Bonne nuit Madame Giry, do sleep well." Madame Giry smiled at him, "and a good evening to you as well Raoul." He smiled in return. "I shan't want for any to rise early, but please do alert Madeline if you should and would like company."

She leaned over embracing Meg. "Sleep well my dear." She entered her room and closed the door behind her. As she walked over to the lamp to turn it up, she noticed an ivory envelope sitting next to it. She smiled. She'd not seen it many times, but she knew in an instant to whom the handwriting belonged. She lifted the envelope into her hands caressing it. She set it back down. She'd ready herself for bed, and retire there to read it before she'd delve into the book Erik had given her.

Funny, she'd had more time at her disposal these last days than she'd had in many years, and yet she'd done little in terms of being productive, and her reading had been shamefully neglected. Perhaps this was what living life on the other side was like. She'd never imagined what the life of an aristocrat was like to live. She'd merely accepted them as a different class of people to whom she owed her livelihood. It was their patronage of the Opera Populaire that had allowed her to explore and embrace her art…her life's work, and had provided a shelter for she and Meg after her family was altered by her husband's untimely death. It was not nearly so dull as she'd imagined, but was just as tiring as if she'd spent the day instructing at the Opera House.

Her mind wandered to the Opera House for but a few fleeting seconds. She longed to take Meg there. To show her the beautiful quarters where they'd be… she closed her eyes. It was entirely possible that neither of them would occupy that space now…The next two months would be telling of what the remainder of their lives would hold.

In her distraction she'd managed to undress and was slipping on her nightdress and robe. She walked to the vanity sitting down once more, as she'd done thousands of times before to brush out her hair, counting each stroke silently. She'd lost count several times, being far too eager to read the note to finish the activity. Unlike the chorus girls she'd call to task for cutting short a planned repetition, she'd stopped after only half the strokes.

She rose, retrieving the envelope and crawled beneath the covers of her bed, the book laid open next to her. The hurricane lamp turned up just slightly for reading. She slid the envelope between her hands before running her thumb under the seal to release its contents. A singular ivory card, with the petal of a yellow rose attached slid into her hands. She smiled.

My Dearest Antoinette,

I'm certain this note will find you in the same state of mind that I've found myself in even now as I pen this note. It is with great humility that I share my thoughts with you. For indeed we've known each other for some months now, and much longer we've been allied through our mutual friend. It shan't be a wonder to anyone that our feelings would tend toward the serious in any regard, though I dare say they surprised us the most.

It has been a long many years since I've thought of a woman as anything but another man's wife, or another man's keep, and I fear that it has been the same for you in the opposite regard. We've both much to consider, and far more to weigh in the privacy of our own minds. Come what may, I shall always want for you to know of my deepest regard for you, and that I shall always hold you in my fondest affections.

It is a most cruel thing that I am now compelled to ask of you, but I've recently been encouraged by said mutual friend, to seek happiness wherever it might find me, and I'm to convey his wish for you is the same. I pray only that you'll consider it Antoinette, and consider it carefully. It shall be a long while before I shall mention it again as we've much that requires our immediate attention. It is not until we've time to think of ourselves, to have opportunity to render to our feelings their proper due, that we could truly consider the costs.

I've no doubt that this shall find you either entirely relieved and in agreement, or in utter despair. No matter which course your feelings now take, I pray only that you can both forgive and understand my boldness. The value of the virtue of patience has rather become me these last years, so alas, I've become a patient man. In due time, all will be settled, but until then, we shall remain, as we've always been, the dearest of friends…though my heart shall no doubt be in want for you forever.

I shall look forward to your reply, my dear sweet Antoinette. No matter what is chosen, I shall remember with great fondness the precious moments we've spent in one another's company.

Nadir

Tears streaked down Madame Giry's face. She'd expected something different entirely. Truly these words broke at the very fragile edges of her heart. She understood, even agreed as he thought she might. Perhaps he knew it was a far less cruel thing they did to deny themselves than to be tortured at every turn because of their own selfishness.

She wiped the tears from her cheek. She'd pen a reply…she couldn't bear to face him just now. Somehow the blow was softened when you couldn't emblazon the voice in one's brain, a note was a more suitable avenue, one that can be revisited when needed. Yes….she'd pen her reply….but tomorrow. Tonight she'd care for nothing more than sleep. Deep, releasing, healing, sleep.

She turned down the lamp, pulling her covers up under her chin. In the darkness she began to weep silently. Happiness was not to be hers in this lifetime perhaps, for it seemed to be prematurely snatched from her before she'd even been able to embrace it.

XXXX

Raoul escorted Meg to her room, accompanying her inside. Madeline had tended to the fire, it had been sufficient stoked to last for what Raoul thought would be hours. Meg smiled at Raoul as she made her way to the vanity. She'd become rather comfortable with him in her quarters. She had to admit, waking up and finding herself in his arms was entirely wonderful. Even the pangs of guilt had begun to subside; surprising her immeasurably.

As she sat at the vanity, she removed the fixtures that had bound her hair. She glanced in the mirror at her own reflection. The stitches on her cheek were healing well, the line of the scar no doubt would be faint. The swelling had subsided, and the redness was fleeting. In the background she could see Raoul's face alit by the glow of the fire. He had turned himself round so that he could watch her. She felt suddenly a bit shy. They were becoming closer, and even the mundane things such as this, would be a part of their lives if they were to be.

She began to run the brush through her hair, counting each stroke. Raoul sat silently watching. The light from the lamp on the vanity filtering through Meg's hair with each stroke, making it appear as strands of spun gold, layered with amber shades of the finest honey.

She sat so gracefully he thought; as poised as a prima ballerina would be. He knew in his heart that though she'd gladly abandon that life for one with him, for she'd told him as much, he'd no want to deprive her of that joy….she'd trained all of her life for it, indeed it was in her very blood. He smiled, slowly rising…

"You love it don't you Meg?" He slowly made his way, step by deliberate step, over to her.

She was counting "forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one," She smiled shyly, continuing to move the brush methodically through her hair, "love what Raoul?"

He paused every few steps, taking her in from every angle. "The dance…"

Meg smiled, "sixty, sixty-one, sixty-two…the dance?"

Raoul paused again, he had moved into the shadows, just beyond Meg's view. "Yes, the joy of the movement, the satisfaction of mastering it, delighting an audience, pleasing your mother."

Meg smiled, glancing down, "eighty-three, eighty-four…" She didn't know what had brought on this conversation.

"I can see it in your eyes, I could hear it in your voice when you spoke of it this evening…the questions…when you'd answered the questions…"

Meg's face took on a sorrowful expression. Her hands now resting idly in her lap. "It's all I've known Raoul, all my life, I've been mastering it since I could walk I suppose, to me it as natural as breathing….but why do you speak of this now?" She was truly perplexed.

Raoul's heart had started to move faster than his mind had intended. His thoughts were of making her his, and he knew that this required so much more of her than what he knew she might be able to give. He simply needed to know if he could even ask that much of her.

"This night when I'd mentioned, brought up I suppose, the idea of marriage." He paused, Meg had set the brush down on the vanity, she was looking down at her lap. "Meg, so much has passed between us these last days…these last months…we've known of our feelings for one another, but we've denied them…" He paused again.

Meg could feel her lip begin to tremble. This truly had been a telling night. The questions in that bowl had provided much insight into the lives of every one that sat in that room. It was a seemingly innocent game….the affects of which were not, if truth be told, felt until hours afterwards…much like a drug of trickery…seemingly harmless…ultimately telling.

Meg replied without hesitation, "Raoul….one cannot make a choice to embrace one thing without making a choice to abandon another when they both require the same part of you….ballet, the dance as you called it, has been my life…all consuming."

She swallowed hard, closing her eyes as her chest rose and fell…it was the truth…the pure truth she spoke to him in these moments and it genuineness of it filled her with such relief. "If I am to embrace this new life….this life with you….I must choose…I know I must. If I am to speak from my heart, I would not be truthful if I told you I would not miss it…not long for it from time to time…but would I trade it…the temporary….for a life of happiness?" She looked down, inhaling, and then turned around to face him.

He stood in the shadows, tears streaming down his face. Swirling through his mind were the words of his father's bitter confession the first night his father had joined him in this house. The confession of his mother's melancholy after abandoning all she held dear to be with him…he'd no want to subject Meg to a similar if however different fate…he'd seen first hand what it had done to his own mother.

She rose, walking to him, reaching out for his hands, taking them into hers. She looked around the room, then back into his eyes. "Would one choose the flame of the lamp that sits here, a wick with a bit of kerosene, that will surely run out? The flame it is beautiful and comforting, but it is only temporary."

She led Raoul over to the fireplace, sitting down with him on the divan. "Or, would one choose the glowing embers of a finely stoked fire whose warmth will comfort you, its intensity consume you for a lifetime. One is small and will last but a short while. The other is intense, all encompassing, and if properly tended will endure."

Raoul looked at her. A hopeful gaze in his eye. "Meg, I.."

"Shhhh Raoul." She brought her finger to his lips. "I do not know what our life shall be like, what wonders await us…but I know that I am willing to abandon my past to look forward to a future that is as full and bright as the flame that even now warms our flesh. If it is to mean that I shan't be able to return to the Opera House with my mother when the time comes….than it shall be so."

Raoul's eyes filled with tears, his lips trembled. He took her hands into his, sliding a bit closer. "Meg, I've given this much thought…when that time does come…we will have to think most seriously of our status…our arrangements…" He swallowed, glancing into the fire. He raised his eyebrow. "There are some who would say it to be most improper to have us under the same roof….unmarried, without your mother here as chaperone." He glanced up at Meg.

Her eyes had grown wide. She'd thought he was referring to an engagement…but this…no this…he was quite serious…this was more than an engagement he was suggesting. "Raoul, I …"

He was shaking his head. "It is something that we need not answer tonight….I simply needed some assurance that you were feeling as I did, that you'd be willing to…" He stopped, closing his eyes, he shook his head. "No…there is no reason…no…I simply cannot see why you shan't be able to do both Meg, if that's what you wish."

She cocked her head to the side. He turned to face her fully. "What if you were to return with your mother there, and then stay here with her when you've time for a rest away from the city?"

She blinked, she was confused….hadn't he just been suggesting marriage? "Raoul, I do not understand…."

He shook his head, putting his hands on her forearms, looking into her eyes with a hopeful glance. "Meg…my dearest Meg….I do not wish to rush you, I do not wish to push you away…I am but trying to consider how we can remain together until you've enough time to decide…to be certain. Right now, in this place, these circumstances …they all surround you, perhaps clouding…influencing your decision. I want, as I am certain you do, for you to be certain." Raoul wondered how long this doubt would linger in his mind…would Meg ever be able to truly love him…truly believe it is she that he loved and not Christine?

Meg's mind was reeling. Was he now not certain himself? Perhaps she could take this opportunity to visit Christine, to travel back there for a time, however briefly…to say her goodbyes…to be certain that Christine would forgive her…to thank Erik properly, to talk to him….

Meg looked up at Raoul. "I understand Raoul…perhaps when the time nears for my mother to return to the Opera House, I shall go to visit Elizabeth and Stephan…perhaps for a short season. If ever there were a place where I could be away from all the influences, as you say, that would be the place. They are the oldest and most trusted souls that I know…if anyone could help me to sort out my feelings they would."

She looked at Raoul…perhaps he too needed a break to be certain…to make certain in his own mind that he could do this, that they would be able to this. She looked into his eyes, and there in them was a look of such relief.

"My dearest Raoul, I've no doubt that I shall want to return to you, but there is much wisdom in what you suggest. We should be certain."

He smiled gathering Meg into his arms, burying his head into the crook of her neck. "Meg, if you decide to return, it will be then that I shall have something of particular importance waiting for you. I know a proper length of engagement is months, but I should like to think we might alter that somewhat if we are ready then."

Meg smiled at him….he was speaking of marriage…he was being ever the gentleman…providing her a way out if she so desired. Meg leaned into his arms, as he pulled her into a warm embrace. They sat staring into the glowing embers.

Raoul pulled the blanket down from the divan, slipping it over Meg's body. He placed an affectionate kiss on her forehead and began running his fingers through her hair. A new sort of comfort had settled between them. The pressure of what was expected to be, was released. Everything about how their lives would proceed from this point forward was in their hands…no expectations…simply time and choice to be together… They could learn to enjoy one another's company in a new way…this time with the thought of what might be, but knowing full well, they ultimately still had a choice.

XXXX

Christine had made her way down to the first level of the house. She couldn't sleep, though she knew she should, one could not will one's body do what it would not.

She'd wandered the hall from library to parlor to study, and back again. She'd been quite, and so far as she could tell she'd not disturbed anyone. She'd gone to the kitchen and made another cup of tea. As she sunk the tea ball into the cup, it began to hiss as the leaves swelled from the heat of the water. She leaned her head over inhaling the peppermint. It reminded her of the candies that her father used to bring home for her after he'd been out late into the evening at a performance. She was to have been in bed sleeping, but somehow she'd always managed to fool her governess into thinking she was sleeping and then she would sit in the window to her room and watch the road until she saw him come home.

He would slip into her room with a peppermint in his pocket for her. He'd croon about his little girl and pull her into his lap and sing her a lullaby…and she'd be off to sleep. Oh how she loved being in his arms…she felt safe there, like nothing in the world could hurt her as long as he was there.

She smiled at the irony. In his final hours on this earth, her father had lovingly promised her an angel, and in truth though he'd turned out to be a man….a wonderful man, he had been as her father had promised…a guide, a guardian. Now she longed for his arms to hold her just as she'd longed for her father's arms when she was young.

The pain in her side had subsided, to which she was much relieved. Now save the sleep she was missing, she felt the best she had in hours. Though she worried, she tried to think only the best of thoughts…he would return…he would be well…spring would return. She was ready to raise a silent prayer asking for that very thing when she heard the grandfather clock strike two…she smiled…

Her father used to tell her when he'd be gone for a long while and he knew it would be late when he would return, he would say, "don't be blue, before the clock strikes two, I'll be home to you." She shook her head, something in that simple statement had always brought her comfort, and on a night such as this one, every little comfort helped alleviate her worry.

She found herself once again leaning against the arch in the window seat in the library, tucked neatly beneath a blanket. The room was warm and comforting, and if she squinted her eyes, she could pretend to see his shape at the piano playing for her just as he had the night before….oh how she loved him…oh how she longed for him….oh how she'd trusted him. She was letting him be the man he was born to be, for to allow for anything less would be to cheat him of the life he was born to live…and he'd already been deprived of so very much.

**Author's Notes**:

**Dear Faithfuls**: As it turns out, I will be gone on Monday and Tuesday as I'd feared. I won't have any connections to my beloved computer these next four days, but I hope to have a few moments to pen something and later translate it to my computer! Thank you for tolerating the 'blips' in my writing that happen from time to time. Alas, real life can be very demanding!

**Phantomsrogue**: Alas, there is so much more to happen to these dear, dear, creatures. It had never been my intention for the story to move in slow motion, as it has at times, but I don't want to miss anything, a feeling, a moment….I am a bit obsessed with capturing the feelings of these dear souls, for I've come to love them dearly!

It is with much humor that I read your review. When we begin being distracted from everything else that is "real" in our lives, we know we've become truly obsessed. I must confess THIS story and the idea of the other has truly consumed much of my waking mind. I now, at times, must force myself to concentrate on work…something I've never done in my entire life…I've been a serious one for the lion's share of my life…but now my mind wanders so frequently to this "other world" of fantasy and fiction, that it has become "real" to me. Does this sound as confused as I think it does? LOL! I do buckle down and do my work, my job demands it, but that doesn't mean I am not distracted at times!

Oh, and do not, I repeat do not doubt the name of the story…I rather like it…. 'The Darker Side of Paris', hmmmm…what a fitting title that would be. Wouldn't you pick up a book and at least read the back cover if you saw it? I know I would… I am getting more excited at the prospect every day. Yes, I agree that Lestat and Erik would have to encounter one another on several occasions, perhaps even watch one another from a distance, trying to size one another up, but never being able to truly do so…sort of a dance….I once heard Andrew Lloyd Webber describe the Phantom as the right side of danger…I think that is fitting. Lestat, well, he is the embodiment of danger…of all things nefarious…The Phantom…he still has his soul, though damaged it may be. Yes, we should start brainstorming a bit…

Yes, work does require me to be diligent and go where I am bid to go…I do like my work, but it can be a bit trying at times! Though my computer will stay at home, my old fashioned notebook shall travel with me… Have a great weekend…and do keep the cogs of that brain of yours moving to 'The Darker Side of Paris'…oooooo, I do like the sounds of that!

**Christineluvserik**: A warm group hug is just what Erik needs right now…and I think I just heard an amen from all of the other members of our Phamily out there! LOL! Yes, he has been through so very much, so very much…and has so much to look forward to. Can you imagine how he will feel to get back home and pull Christine into his arms! Oh it gives me goosebumps, and since there is no one else here to hug, I'll hug myself! Yes, yet another reinforcement as to the fragility of my mind!

Assignments are a wonderful thing, though sometimes demanding. I must confess that I do miss our Phamily terribly when I am away. sighs mournfully Have a great weekend…and yes, my little "fund" is growing!

**Hopelesslyobsessed**: Welcome back my dear! It is good to hear from you! Yes, I have sensed that now nearly everyone is concerned with what is in that drawer in Erik's desk…oh how easily Christine drew us in to her obsession! LOL! And I do not remember saying that the blood was Erik's or that it was his wound….hmmmm…but one never really knows do they! The water on the desk my dear….a bit of good old-fashioned foreshadowing… one of the oldest writer's tricks on the book!

Thank you for the compliment on the story. I continue to be humbled by the kind words from our Phamily members…it truly keeps me going!

**Batteredchild**: The angst has gone on for a bit hasn't it? I can only imagine how desperate I would have felt in that situation. They'd no way to communicate with one another. No snowmobiles, no cell phones, no satellites to track them….we are a spoiled lot now aren't we? All they could do then was to sit back and wait for the inevitable to happen. Yes, the men should have gone out long before to help those women…but it was just as true back then as it is now…hence Erik's statement… "all it takes for evil to triumph in this world is for good men to do nothing." How many times do people sit back and wait until it is too late for their help to be of any use? I know I see it every day…I cannot explain what I do for a living…but I can tell you that I see this happen every day in my work…every day…perhaps that is why it is so poignant for me to make a point of it in this story….hmmm….I am getting a bit too philosophical now aren't I?

Have a great weekend, wherever this story finds you!

**Phantomfan13**: I am happy that you and your family are alright. Tree limbs and what not can be collected and discarded. People cannot be replaced! You'll find this quite strange but I rather enjoy storms, their power, their majesty! Even when the power doesn't go out, I light candles and sit in my library and watch it through the large window that leads out into my back yard. Something about it is so mysterious, so awe inspiring don't you think? Though I've had my share of close calls with storms…I didn't say I was smart about it…I'd rather watch than take shelter…and that can be a bit foolish at times!

Thank you for your kind words in regard to this last chapter. It made perfect sense in my mind as I penned it, but I worried that it would be a difficult read, as he transitioned in and out of the present and the past. I am happy that you could follow along on my ramblings! I must confess that while I've heard excerpts of Kay's novel, I've not read it. First access to it has been a problem, and second because I do not want to borrow too much of her story, lest I be cannibalistic in a literary sense. I want to stay true to our little version without too much influence from other story lines. As to Erik's age, yes I imagine him to be in his early thirties…too much older, I agree, would make it a bit weird for us. However, back then, it was not at all uncommon for older men to marry MUCH younger women….I know….the idea is a bit foreign to us in this day and age, but security was so much an issue for them then, that if a man had money, and a young woman's family needed it, she often was the "bargaining chip" her family used to acquire a bit of security. This happened more often than what I would have liked. Perhaps that is why there was a large women's movement not long after this…in fact…if you know a bit of Parisian history…you might know of the Commune which was gaining strength during 1870, and they very much preyed on that very issue…empowering women. Well, enough on the history lesson…sorry, I get a bit carried away!

Erik's stitches are intact, and he wants me to tell you thank you for worrying about him! LOL! Raoul didn't exactly propose…you know how sometimes you say things you are feeling, but didn't really mean to say them? That's sort of what happened to Raoul…what I affectionately call a "Freudian slip"!

Have a wonderful weekend, and maybe a good old-fashioned campfire is in your near future with all those branches? I know I have a fire pit in my back yard that is full of branches I've collected over the last few weeks. It beckons me….and I intend to enjoy a good fire this weekend myself!

**WriterMuseoftheNight**: My, my, there are many kindred spirits out there in our Phamily! Yes, our beloved Erik must grant us his permission before we release any details that he shares with us! LOL Yes, it would be nice if we could send the little group of them a care package now wouldn't it? Yes, the consequences of being out in the cold…no doubt unless we live south of the equator, we've all been out in the cold weather for an extended period and know all too well what our skin, our lungs, our limbs, feel like for a long while after we've come indoors. In Erik's case, he's a special sensitivity to it for so many reasons. He'll come to respect his life on the surface of the earth in a different way than he has before…. Have a wonderful weekend!

Oh, recommended reading….I could write you a list, a very long list…it depends on what you like. If you're wanting something older, and haven't yet read it, 'Great Expectations' written by Dickens is wonderful. If you are looking for something a bit more modern…I'd recommend the book I going to start when I travel out of town next week… 'The Historian'. Now if you are not a fan of Dracula, go for something else, perhaps. I tend to lean toward historical fiction myself, so my recommendations are a bit slanted! Then there are several classics that are coming to the big screen, 'Oliver Twist', and 'Pride and Prejudice'. If you want to enjoy the movies for their full embodiment, I'd recommend reading either of those as well! I myself have on my reading list the works of Burns, the Scottish poet, as alas, I am a Gerard Butler fan, and I want to understand the poet's heart so I can appreciate the movie when it comes out next spring!

**Phantomlover05**: Hmmmm…I'm not quite certain how to respond to that. Without revealing too much about myself. SOME men, do like seeing their women in their clothes…but yes, I agree, there are some that don't understand it at all. There is nothing quite like slipping on a night shirt, a suit shirt, a robe, a sweatshirt that belongs to them…. ahhh…sighs dreamily Have a wonderful weekend!

**Tex110:** I am so pleased, no really…terribly pleased to hear you say that. If I can make it feel "real" then I have done what I've intended! I so hoped that I could do this for the reader, as that is what happens in my mind and I always worry that it doesn't translate to the written words! Thank you for the compliment on the chapters. The last one with Erik's internal monologue, was nearly a spiritual experience for me. I could feel the cold air, the rush as memories flooded over him, how his emotions took control, the rigid stance of his body as he stood facing the sleet and snow….oh I've just lost myself in the moment again! Anyway….have a wonderful weekend, and I hope that if you've any friends of family back in Texas, that they've survived the storms down there! I know we all worry for them!


	132. Things Not Always As They Seem

Chaper 144 Things…Not Always As They Seem 

There was a gentle knock on the door. Nicole startled, dropping the blanket from her shoulders. She stood, rubbing at her eyes, pulling the robe up around her shoulders as she went to the door. It was Kathryn.

She stood there with a cup of hot liquid and a platter of small sandwiches. "Thought you might be hungry by now Nicole, does your mother stir?"

Nicole shook her head, looking over her shoulder. Thankfully the medicine the doctor had given her had allowed her mother to rest. Nicole put her finger to her lips, coming out of the room closing the door behind her. She took Kathryn by the hand leading her down the hall.

There at the middle of the hall was a turret, a small round table and two chairs. Kathryn put the tray down on the table as she and Nicole took comfort in the chairs.

"Nicole, is there anything that I can do for you, for your mother? Words of sympathy sound all but hollow when a loss is this fresh, but do know that you and your mother are in my prayers."

Nicole reached out and touched Kathryn's hand. "A loss…" she said under her breath.

Kathryn lifted the cup giving it to Nicole. "Drink, it will make you feel better."

Nicole took it lifting toward her lips. Her nose tingled, she pulled it away, a scowl on her face. Kathryn smiled at her.

"Nicole do not worry, it is a bit of liquor mixed with the honey and tea, it will help ease your sorrows. I can assure you the doctor approves, he's the one that ordered it for you."

Nicole brought the cup up to her lips again, slowly taking a sip. It was sweet and biting, but the warmth felt good on her throat. The vapor rising brought a cough to her lungs.

"Here," Kathryn said, dipping a spoon into the potted honey that lay on the tray. "The doctor has asked to see you when you woke."

Nicole's eyes filled with tears. "And my grandmother?"

Kathryn looked down at her lap. "He said to tell you that she is on her way now."

Nicole's eyes brimmed and overflowed. The grief she had tried to hide rose to the surface without warning.

Kathryn went to Nicole, kneeling before her. "Nicole, you and your mother….you took such good care of her, you did all that you could for her, and I know you shall take comfort in that knowledge in time. There are so many in our city who are not as loved or cared for as your grandmother was, and the people of Chauesser have admired you and your mother, though none likely dared to tell you." Kathryn rose, taking Nicole into her arms. It had been a very long time since Nicole had cried until her tears ran dry. Kathryn had held her through the worst of it.

Kathryn took the cup, once more offering it to Nicole. Though it was cool now, it still burned as it slipped down her throat. The quick dip of honey soothed the burn. Nicole could feel the fullness of her lungs. No doubt this would last for days until she recovered.

"Nicole, that man…that one that found your grandmother…"

Nicole turned looking Kathryn in the eye. "He's something of a gentleman isn't he? I do not know where we would have found her…if it were not for him, we shan't have been able to be with her at the last…" Nicole's lip started to quiver.

"Yes, he is something of a gentleman indeed. This morning as he readied to leave…I am so ashamed…"

Nicole looked at Kathryn with such wonder, what could cause her to feel shame?

"My mother and I…we were in caring for the laundry, and he wandered back to inquire of his…" Kathryn was blushing heavily, she stammered. "Nicole, do you remember the man of which the other girls and I have been speaking for days?" Nicole nodded. "It was he, it was he that we saw that day at the mercantile…"

She spoke now with her eyebrows raised. "Not only a gentleman…but a handsome man as well."

Nicole frowned… "Kathryn, you know of his marriage do you not?"

Kathryn nodded. "Yes, yes, of course, I met his wife that day, she is as pleasant as she is beautiful, and gazed upon him with such admiration." Nicole looked at Kathryn, a bit of wonder in her as to the point of mention of it. Kathryn looked at her shaking her head. "Nicole, this morning after he arrived in our laundry, my mother brought his things to him. Then we went about our work and I was taking items to be put away, and I opened a door…and there he stood, barely dressed…it was quite unnerving."

Nicole looked at her friend in horror. "Kathryn….you do know what you are dabbling in it is…"

"Yes, YES, I know…but one cannot help what one sees." Kathryn looked more ashamed by the minute. The pair sat silently. "I've brought him into our conversation for a purpose," Kathryn finally said. "There's a bag, which he's left here. We can see to having it delivered when the weather clears a bit, but I thought you might like…perhaps you and your mother…. We can make arrangements for you."

Nicole looked at her with compassion, "that is most thoughtful of you Kathryn, I think we should like that very much…when the time is right."

Kathryn looked down at the floor, "I should tell you, he caused quite a stir before he left." Nicole looked at Kathryn, she'd heard a ruckus, but hadn't known what had been the cause of it. "They wanted to honor him, there was talk of sending word to Lady C, perhaps a bestowing of honor on him the day of our celebration. Really, it is but a few weeks off now. This is the very sort of thing she admires most….but now…he's all but shunned the thought of it….he considers himself no hero."

Kathryn looked up at Nicole whose eyes were wide with wonder. Kathryn continued, "he went on to chastise those who sat back and did nothing calling then feckless nebbishes, or something of the sort… declaring he did nothing more than any man ought do."

Nicole's eyes began to fill again. "He is a quiet man Kathryn, a deep man I'd dare say, it sounds to be what I'd imagine he would say of himself, and of those who do not act. He's never been so much as rude to my Grandmother, though she did puzzle him so…I do not know why he would leave his young wife and venture into a city to search for my grandmother…but I am exceedingly thankful that he did."

Kathryn nodded. "Yes, he seems wonderful, and now the entire city of Chauesser shall have his name on the tip of their tongues, though much to his chagrin should he find out." Kathryn looked around, there was no one in the hall. "The inn is so quiet as so many have been making their way over the drifts to the mercantile, not for want of goods, I dare say they've been eating and drinking like kings and queens, but to share of the gossip that they have by being first witnesses to the very events themselves."

Nicole felt the hair rising on the back of her neck. "The death of my grandmother ….fodder for fools…" Nicole rose from her chair walking back toward her room, Kathryn following close behind her.

"Nicole, I shall be here for whatever you need. Here, do take these, but a few nibbles. When the clock strikes four I shall bring you and your mother a proper supper, then the doctor will come to look in on the two of you."

Nicole nodded, taking the tray from Kathryn's hands. "Thank you, you have been most kind." Kathryn nodded as Nicole closed the door behind her.

Kathryn had known Nicole since the first day she'd come to the inn. She felt for her in a way she did not the others she'd befriended. There was simply something solid, something good, something true about Nicole. She was always and foremost honest in her dealings, a quality she and others had admired about her. How Kathryn wished she could do something for her, but alas, the only friend Nicole needed now was time.

XXXXXXX

Nadir sat holding the letter in his hands. A stray tear had made its way down his chin and dropped softly to the surface of the paper. He'd never dreamed that he'd find love again, not in this world, and now to be so close that he could hear it breathing was nearly more than he could endure.

Perhaps after a proper time, he'd make his way back to Chauesser, see if he could be of some assistance to Erik for a time.

He rose from the chair. He'd see to getting dressed and getting to the carriage house. It was time now. If it were not today, he'd be looking for an urn for Sara, not a final burial plot. He knew full well the offices in London would not be open for business, but he could still deposit Sara and go to her inn. Perhaps there he could learn more of this woman, find information that might help him to find that which he needed. Her children, and the plot of her husband.

XXXXXX

Erik woke. Christine had been right in her estimates, she did indeed produce a considerable amount of heat, as her flesh even now had a sheen from thin sweat that covered her. She had kept Erik safe and warm, for what he'd estimated was several hours if not more.

Erik inhaled, a strange scent greeted him. Looking down he saw that a large linen cloth had been wrapped about his chest, and one about his neck. They smelled of garlic and ground mustard seed, onion, and a few other putrid things he could not quite describe. He shook his head slightly. She was trying to treat him again…to dote on him. He would allow it, for no doubt it brought her comfort and satisfaction for the doing of it. He inhaled again. He had to admit, though its presence was most unpleasant, he did breath a bit easier, and each breath did not threaten to elicit a fit of coughing. That alone was worth enduring the less than pleasant administrations.

Carefully Erik extracted himself from Christine's arms, discarding the linen cloths in a basin by the hearth. He walked to the window peeking behind the curtain. The day was waning, and the overcast made approximating the hour difficult. Though Erik had suspicions from the glorious scents that wafted to the upper floor, that it was nearing the dinner hour. He'd not thought he would be have an appetite for days, but in truth he was rather hungry.

A fleeting thought of Chauesser crossed his mind, and he quickly dismissed it. He'd not have need for those thoughts today. He wanted only to focus on Christine, and on their children nothing more.

He turned round, moving back toward the bed when he noticed that the bust of Chopin had been moved a bit from its normal place. Erik walked over, thinking in his earlier haste to darken the room, that he'd perhaps jostled it from its place. He reached out pushing it back into place, but stopped as he heard the scraping of the bottom on the wood. He lifted the statue into his hands turning it over for examination only to find the small cover had been removed, and the keys that normally resided inside of it had been removed and returned in a very awkward position so as to make the cover not fit as it should. Erik remedied the position and returned the cover, placing the bust in its normal place.

He turned to look at Christine. She was the only one who knew of the key's location. The only one who knew how to remove the bottom of the statue to reveal the compartment which held the keys. He'd shown no other, not even Nadir. He'd specifically instructed Christine to use the keys, and all of the things she'd need to unlock, only if she found herself in a situation most dire, and quite without him to guide her.

His pulse quickened, and at first he felt confused. Had she thought he'd not return to her? Then he felt sad, had she doubted him? The last emotion was one he tried never to use, never to associate with Christine, nor anything that concerned her…he felt angry. Had she not trusted him, not listened to what he'd said?

He looked back at her. What could she have possibly wanted, possibly needed during his absence? They could neither have gone out nor have needed to defend themselves, nor any of those exceptions that Erik had specifically stated to her in his most explicit instructions and stern admonition. Was it simply her curiosity that had gotten the best of her?

Erik slipped on his robe, the one Christine had been wearing about the house in his absence. He sniffed at the lapel, it smelled of flora. What normally would have made him smile in enjoyment of the knowledge of her having worn it, had little affect on him, he did not even smile. He needed to know, for his own sake, what it was that she'd been looking for, and if she'd moved or removed anything, though he couldn't imagine why. Something had made her look for the keys, and while she slept, he needed to find out what precisely it was, but more importantly, where she'd been.

XXXXXXXX

Meg and Raoul walked through the opening in the briar. The pair held hands, and from a distance, Madame Giry thought she saw Raoul lean down kissing Meg on the forehead as she leaned into his shoulder.

Meg was most certain what her mother would be thinking at this very moment, and knew in her heart that her mother would be most relieved once her concern was alleviated. Meg's emotions swirled around, visiting each as if her heart were a rogue butterfly, flitting from one delectable stemmed bloom to another. She felt at once melancholy, exuberance, relief, and love. He loved her, he wanted her, he'd made that plain. Because of those very things, he was concerned for her virtue. If she was to marry Raoul he'd want no sideways glances when she traveled the isle in a dress of white. If she chose a life that did not include Raoul, he'd not want any future suitors to have question of their relationship or of her virtue. The thought of either made her admire him all the more.

The melancholy of knowing she'd no longer be waking to his arms, or to find him on the divan at the end of her bed, in truth frightened her. She'd not woken one singular morning since the incident that he'd not been there to comfort her. Now it would be more proper, and though he was as he said, but a few doors away, she couldn't imagine waking in the dark of that room with memories of an event she was trying desperately to purge from her mind. As long as he'd been with her, her protector, she'd not feared the dream returning. Now, her thoughts were less certain.

As they walked toward her mother now, her mind traveled to the location of the bottles of pills. She hoped she'd not need them, but if she did, she wanted to know they were there.

"Meg, it is entirely possible that your mother may have arrived at the incorrect conclusion during her absence. I've want to share this with her, but let us be discrete if we might. The driver in my employ has always been a most trust worthy man, but I shan't have want to entice him with information that others might eagerly try to solicit." He kissed Meg's forehead again as they came to the edge of the tree line.

"Raoul, I shall do as you ask. We shall wait until we've returned to your house Raoul, then we shall take mother to…perhaps to that room of yours…."

Raoul smiled. "That my dear, is an excellent idea, excellent indeed." In another dozen steps they were at the side of the sleigh. The driver had already escorted Madame Giry in, providing her with blankets and such for her comfort. He turned and was ready to dismount to assist Meg, Raoul, quickly issuing the order, "no need sir, I shan't mind assisting Miss Meg." The man nodded.

When he and Meg were settled in, the driver turned around, "Vicomte, the usual route sir?" Raoul nodded, saying "do not forget the one fresh grove on the western edge though, it should be most beautiful as the snow clings to the trees there." The man nodded. They were off again.

Madame Giry looked at the smiling pair. Something in their eyes looked so relaxed, that it in turn caused her to sigh in relief. She gave Meg a most inquisitive look. Meg smiled, Raoul kissing her on the cheek. Madame Giry wanted to blurt out the burning question, though she decided against it.

Meg sensed her mother's yearnings. She smiled as she pulled her left hand out from the muff that she used to warm her hands. Madame Giry looked anxiously at Meg before she could even look at her hand. She swallowed hard once and then looked down. There on Meg's finger was…nothing? She furrowed her brow. Meg smiled at her, whispering, "we shall explain it all…before dinner." Madame Giry politely nodded at Meg. She'd be patient though she'd not want to be so.

The sleigh made its way, further still away from the house. Raoul had a specific route he'd wanted to take, going to the farthest edges of his property, pointing out for Meg and her mother the many fine features that had finally culminated in an acquisition that he simply could not refuse. It had been a combination of three different properties, and an additional woods before Raoul was truly satisfied. But when he had finished, he'd purchased every nook and cranny of the streams, hollows, tree clumps and caves that his grandfather had spoken of. It was like buying a living storybook, and one could wander about the land of it, imagining you see ghosts of events long past. It was indeed like walking on hallowed ground.

They traveled passed a small waterfall from a cliff-like overhang It bled profusely of it's melting snow, a good sign that considerably warmer days were not far off. They'd passed a dead clump of trees where an old shallow boat still sat nestled in between them. They'd passed the area where his grandfather hunted, just at the end of the property. Raoul pointed out the rubs on the trees of the deer that had marked it as his territory no matter what any man said. Each little spot along the journey had a story, and Raoul remembered them out loud with great fondness, each and every one. He felt a bit like a tour guide having finished his story as the sleigh turned the last corner. They would be on to their house in a few minutes time and finally be in a position to speak with Madame Giry without hesitation. It was a recent development in Raoul to mind. He'd not taken as careful mind to his words or presence, before. But his father's words had not been lost on Raoul, though his father was no doubt certain that they had been.

**Author's Notes:**

**PhantomsRogue:** Yes, I too rather enjoy the fluff…but one cannot exist on fluff alone…although I must say it would be a rather pleasant journey for a time! LOL! There is much to develop in the other characters, and that does, as you pointed out, take time. For there to be a happy culmination, one has to have cared for the characters in the story, or they were simply taking up space. I believe everyone counts for something.

Now, on to that enormous stocking you and your friends will need….it will have to have three feet, we don't want them contaminating each other, as each has their own aura! I for one, only need one stocking…..Erik is all I've ever wanted….ahhh…sighs dreamily.

I think this evening I might actually have an opportunity to check that e-mail…then I shall reply…that is my vow!

Le bon jour mon âme-soeur, ma soeur !

**WriterMuseoftheNight**: I am very happy for Erik…he is finally letting down some of his walls. He wanted so to believe, was caught up in the euphoria of it, when they were first together….but the healing process is never that uncomplicated. He has experienced a range of emotions over his lifetime, but he'd never experienced true, unmitigated, unconditional love, and he really didn't understand it. He tried to pretend before that everything was perfect, but he was only fooling himself. He is healing much like a burn victim, layer by layer, day by day. He has, and will have relapses from time to time until one day he wakes up and feels whole….

Meg and Nadir…yes, they have so very much on their minds. They too feel torn, but for them it is the truth that eats away at them. The truth of wanting and needing love, but wondering if, when, how…..it can be. The truth, or what they believe to be the truth about Erik. They need so very much to find out, but it seems delay after delay has prevented them from moving forward…even Mother Nature produced a storm to keep everyone in one place.

Now, as for the doctor. Remember that he is the one that had been tending to Raoul since he was a boy. He is also the one who had been taking care of the innkeeper that was shot by the Crawlings boy. On his death bed he uttered those shuddering words… "Raoul is next." THAT is what the doctor needs to tell Raoul. He wants to warn him that Crawlings will be looking for him to avenge his brother's death.

To answer the other question, no, thank God, Crawlings has nothing to do with Nicole, though that would have been an evil twist wouldn't it?

Lady C….yes, you know me to well…I would plead the fifth wouldn't I! LOL!

Sebastian and Pyotr…they do have a very silent sort of reputation don't they…if I tell you, I'd have to hunt you down and sequester you so you shan't tell another soul…so for now….just know that they are as dark and sinister as one can imagine they might be.

Yes, the glen as you pointed out where Raoul and Meg are now…it may be more surprising than you think…it just might be…well….I don't want to spoil the surprise!

And yes, Raoul's attention to his heritage does make it all the harder for Meg…he is just the sort of man she dreamed of as a child….handsome, and focused on home and family.

I laughed when I read your thoughts on Erik being irritated about how similar he and Raoul would be…I think you are right…that would probably irritate him to no end!

And finally, you are right again. Madame Giry could only empathize with Erik's pain in losing something they both cared about. She could never match his fury…and truth be told…he'd trade his easy-to-anger personality, for a moment of pure peace.

Yes, Gustav. Those little details don't escape someone who watches the movie hundreds of times. I don't know if I mentioned it, but you will find the name in only place, and that is on the small picture of her dad that hangs in the small chapel in the lower level of the Opera House, and only once when Christine has gone down to light a candle for her father, and of course to meet her angel. In one second right after she lights the candle the camera moves down to his picture, and you see his name engraved in the frame…Gustav Daae. That would be a good trivia question if there was ever a POTO board game don't you think?

As for my trip…it wasn't really a trip per se. I spent hours on the phone in conference calls, and traveling from place to place…hard to explain…but I accomplished all that I needed to so that was a good feeling. Thanks for asking!

Have a good night!

**Diveprincess**: Wrapping the ankle will help, and keeping it warm, and raised on a pillow at night when you sleep will help. Vicks Vapo-rub (the lotion version) rubbed directly on the ankle before you wrap it will also help. A little ibuprofen or aspirin will help too. I hope you're not a broom-ball fanatic…ice will not be your friend this winter! Good to hear that you and Steve are on speaking terms, and that the two of you don't stay mad long. That's a sign of a true friendship!

That senior year can be a tricky one. It is the culmination of all that you've learned the years before, and a taste of what is to come in college. Enjoy every minute of it. Take time now before the end of the year to say hello to that person you might have "not seen" all those years before, or make amends with anyone you might not have always really liked. If you do it now, the rest of the year will be so much sweeter. Trust me, those high school memories last forever, and only you can determine if you will have any regrets!

Have a great day!

**Nordygirl**: I laugh and laugh when I read your review. I don't care that it doesn't rhyme exactly, it is the content, yes the content that is important. I am glad to hear that someone else can actually see the cast that played the movie version of POTO, walking through the chapters of our story. I picture them perfectly in my mind as each word is laid down on "paper." I see them all moving about as if I'm the director…ahhh…it feels a bit powerful…in a humbling sort of way.

Thank you for joining our Phamily….it wouldn't be the same without you!

**Phantomlover05**: Yes, it was about time that our dear Erik relaxed. I could just picture him going through the motions couldn't you? The ring…I think it made Meg happy, and feel honored at the same time…it was a commitment, but not a complete one…if that makes any sense at all! Have a great day!

**Batteredchild**: Let's see, I think Christine would be just entering her second trimester, so just barely over three months. Normally, she wouldn't be showing just yet, but since there are three…she won't be able to keep her secret under wraps for very long! Thank you for the compliment on the story. I hope the coming chapters will be enjoyable!

**Faeriecatcher1**: Good explanation on your name. It is easy to be consumed by something one enjoys isn't it? Thank you for your kind words about the story. It seems I just cannot get enough of POTO! As far as the "Great Love" reference…no…not from a movie…its from ancient literature…though I am certain it has been quoted in many movies as it is such a great way to describe a love that everyone admires. When they try to describe true love…they make reference to a couple, and everyone just understands what they are trying to say. Hope that makes sense.

**Phantomphorever**: Welcome to the Phamily! It always amazes me when we have new "adopted" additions to our Phamily! It is a very large time commitment to read this many chapters, and I can only imagine what it is like to come to a story and open it only to see 143 chapters! It is something like finding that really fat book in the library and looking at it…wondering if it will be worth devoting that much time to reading it. So, I am very impressed, and humbled, when it does happen!

No, the story is not near its conclusion, though I shudder to think how long it will end up being when it is finished! So much ground to cover…. I would never leave the story where it is now…lest I be hunted through cyber-space like a rogue writer!


	133. Hero

Chapter 132 Hero 

The sled had been pulled to the front of the tavern the last distance by the men. Quickly they'd dismounted. Everyone in the tavern was on their feet as they heard and then saw the first of them come down the bank of ice-crusted snow.

The first they carried in was Nicole. A general cheer rose as they saw her, though they quickly quieted as they saw her condition, she was nearly blue. Second, they carried in her mother. Her face had a bit more fleshy tone, though she too lay motionless.

They waited with baited breath as they saw the next carried down. Far too small to be the man they'd assumed it would be…they gasped as the men came through the door…she'd been found! The room erupted in a cheer. There the elder woman, her skin already looking a bit pink lay now on the bed they'd prepared for another.

The room fell silent. "What of the man?" The one stable-boy said as he looked at the door and back at the man who'd laid the old woman on the cot.

He shook his head, "we'll bring him in, but we've little hope for him." The room was silent. They watched as four men carried Erik in. His cloak completely covered in snow and a layer of crumbling icy sleet. The group scrambled to put down additional blankets for him directly in front of the freshly kindled fire.

The doctor met them at the door, grabbing his wrist straight away. He gasped. A relieved expression crossed his visage. "He's a pulse…I can feel his pulse." The assemblage of staff quickly attended their duties, covering, disrobing, adorning frozen flesh with dry clothing, blankets, using warm damp rags to gently relieve the pallor of their skin.

The crowd moved back out of respect; giving the women their needed privacy. Though modesty was greatly outweighed by the want of sheer survival. In a few minutes they were all redressed and nestled beneath blankets. The fire sufficiently stoked as full as it could be. The doctor himself had sweat beading on his from the heat of it. He'd made his rounds, Erik receiving his first attention.

Erik's pulse was growing stronger, though his respiration wasn't what it should be. Each limb had been inspected with great care. Thankfully the preparations of saw and vodka had proved unnecessary.

Nicole was the first of them whose body began to shudder as it warmed. She'd had the greatest final exposure, thereby giving her the most intense chill of the four. Though none could be certain, they knew they'd been out in that weather for well over an hour….the man and the grandmother far longer.

The girl that sat next to Nicole now was the sled-driver's daughter. She'd come in with her father to be with Nicole. She'd not imagined that she would be tending her as she did now, but she would do anything for her friend even if it meant holding her hand through the worst of it.

Nicole's mother had opened her eyes. She wasn't certain that she shan't be dreaming. Until the maid noticed her awake and brought over a cup of hot soup, she thought she might be imagining the warmth. She'd been sat up partially. She endeavored to speak, but they quieted her swiftly.

She could not refrain… "he found her…the man found her…I do not know where or how…I know only that we found him with her in his arms…thank God for that man or she'd have been lost."

The maid made her way swiftly to the innkeeper relaying the woman's words. He set out to report to the group who awaited any news in the next room. A general cheer could be heard as they rejoiced in his triumph. He had accomplished what they themselves had been far too concerned for their own lives to do.

Erik's eyes fluttered at the din. His first glimpse was that of a young man leaning over him, "do you hear that sir? That cheer is for you!"

Erik inhaled and exhaling by degrees….closing his eyes once more. They'd been found…she was there…they were alive…he could rest…he was so very tired. He'd rest and then return to his Christine.

The doctor had cleaned and prepared the bloodied scrapes on Erik's torso. They were neither large nor threatening, no doubt from the ice and snow he'd covered. The great mass of blood that had soaked his clothing, had indeed not been his own.

The doctor was most concerned now with the old woman. The blood that covered both the man and old woman, was the result of a deep wound. A rather large shard of glass was buried deep within the woman's side. He hoped the man would wake enough that he could inquire where he'd found her, and what had impaled her. He needed to remove the glass but could do nothing until she was a bit more stable. To perform surgery on her now, in this weakened state, would surely finish her, and he'd no want to do a further harm when they'd risked all to find her.

As he lay in front of the fire, Erik could feel the pain of his hands and feet. It felt as if a thousand needles were jabbing into them from every direction, a torture chamber's cruelest tricks. He was no stranger to this torment. His overwhelming tiredness could not dull the pain sufficiently to allow him to rest.

One of the young women in the employee of the tavern kneeled next to him. She placed a warm compress on his forehead. Yet another came, taking his hands one by one, first holding them between her hands, and then gently rubbing them until the tingling ceased. He'd barely noticed that his shivering had subsided as he began to drift off to sleep. He was so tired. He knew that they were all there, all safe, and he'd done that which he'd come to do.

XXXX

Christine had fallen asleep in the window seat looking out at the night sky. She was duly bundled in the blankets she'd brought with her from her bed chamber. She felt a gentle hand shaking her ever so slightly. It was the wee hours of the morning and she could see in the barely tempering light that it was Misty.

"Mum, you should recline, it isn't good for you to sleep in this way." Misty herself was in her robe and nightcap.

Christine smiled sleepily at her, "what time is it?" Misty glanced over her shoulder. "It's just before three mum." Christine stretched her arms above her head, quickly pulling them back into the sleeves of Erik's robe.

Misty smiled at her. She'd a cup of warm milk stained with a bit of cocoa. She handed it to Christine who took it gratefully. "Thank you." She said, raising it to her lips, blowing gently on the steam that rose from the cup. Christine looked over the cup at Misty. "I'd not disturbed you wandering about the house have I?" Christine took her first sip. It had been laced with a bit of almond and a few crystals of sugar…it was just what she'd have asked for if she could have done so.

"Not at all mum. We've all had a difficult time with the storm, and I dare say we share your worry with you mum." Misty smiled at Christine, thinking carefully, she continued. "If you don't mind me saying so mum, your husband….he's not a sort of man we've met before. He is most kind and generous. A household shan't normally be as blessed as this one is mum."

Christine returned Misty's smile. "Yes, he is not usual in any way…that is perhaps why I love him as I do." Christine was blushing a bit, but her heart simply could not contain the feelings she had for Erik. He was what any woman would want in a husband, and oh so much more than she could have imagined she would have. Christine sighed, handing the cup back to Misty.

She turned glancing out the window pulling the blanket back around her shoulder. The winds had died down, and just the few snowflakes fell now, most likely those dislodged from the roof rather than new from the sky. "I pray that he is warm and well…that he's found what he went looking for."

Misty nodded her head silently. "Come mum, I'll take you to your room, I've warmed your bed for you, the fire is built…you should lay down mum, you've not been well…and you'll want to be ready when he's come home to you."

Christine glanced back over her shoulder at Misty. She was right, though she longed to stay at that window until she saw him, she had to think of their children, surely Erik would have disapproved of her sitting there all night. She smiled rising to join Misty.

As she walked toward the door leading to the outer corridor she glanced back in the room. The man was not there, but his love was…indeed it had permeated the very room with his music. The piano cover lay still open…as he'd last touched it. Christine went to it, running her hands over the ivory keys…he'd played so beautifully...she smiled, closing the cover. She joined Misty who'd collected the blankets and was heading out the door toward the stairs. She closed the door. She hoped the next time she was in that room, it would be in the arms of her husband.

XXXXX

The boy had huddled by the fire until it had gone out. Now he lay in the back of the carriage bundled in the blankets that he had. He'd eaten what he could and now was giving in to the exhaustion he'd felt for hours. The snow had stopped, and the biting winds had subsided. Perhaps a few hours of sleep would provide him with the energy to dig his way out of the fortress of snow that surrounded him.

He'd had much time alone…contemplating his own possible demise…he was confused….was this all life was to contain? A bitter hatred, the only thing that warmed the blood? Had his own father not loved and been loved by his mother? How could one heart contain both emotions and be true to either one?

He'd grown up in a circle where all he had witnessed was violence and vengeance. And yet, he saw such happiness, such relief from life's pain in the faces of all the happy families…even those that had fallen prey to the hands of his own father…down to the last, what had mattered most to them was their loved ones…their material goods mattered little to them in their last moments of life. How had his own life deviated so from those that his path had crossed? His eyes fluttered closed…sleep was his only relief.

XXXXX

The man had come and gone several times in the night back and forth to the stable. The young foal was guarded fiercely by the mother who stood over her. She was a perfect specimen. Her markings and color nearly an exact replica of her father's, though she'd had her mother's more petite structure and beautiful eyes. The mother had allowed the man next to the foal but watched him with careful eyes, ready to react if he'd do anything she'd not approved of. There was nothing in nature quite as fierce as a new mother protecting her young…nothing.

XXXXX

The doctor had given the widow yet another pill from the brown bottle in his satchel. He'd had to do the work which he'd hoped to avoid. The man was now prepared to be taken to Le Mortum street, though little further needed to be done for him.

His widow had nearly been inconsolable. Perhaps still having his cold corpse in the house made it all that much more difficult. She hoped that they would find and bring to justice that man who'd done this heinous thing. Three dead men over the retrieval of a carriage. She'd wished she could visit the other widows, to share in their grief, but the weather and timing had not permitted it. She had no outlet, save the medicine that the doctor had so mercifully administered.

He'd reclined in one of the rooms trying to rest to no avail. He worried for Meg, he worried for Raoul. He took some comfort in the weather being an impediment to everyone, that no doubt provided a safe cushion for Raoul's sake. Meg on the other hand, she'd been healing well, and he could only hope that the vials he'd given her had not become a regular companion for her. They were a temporary measure…nothing more…he'd not want to see her make use of them too frequently.

The coffee in his cup was cold. He knew he should retire, and he would, but just now his mind would not release him. There was far too much to keep his mind occupied.

It had become a strange world…so little good happening…evil seemed to triumph at every turn. Surely the spring…yes the spring would bring relief from the long winter they'd been through…so much had happened…surely it had to improve…it simply must.

XXXX

Erik woke. The first that greeted him was that of a burning sensation on his skin. It felt like it was on fire. He'd found himself partially uncovered. The room was light, as much from the fire that burned in front of him as the light he could see coming in through the windows.

The room was decidedly quieter than it had been hours earlier. The revelry of their return had lasted through the wee hours of the morning. He'd tried to block it out through his fitful sleep. Now, save a few staff who scurried about, the room was nearly empty. Erik felt a bit rested, though his limbs ached terribly. Glancing down he found he was undressed up to his shoulders, a crisp linen sheet pulled over several soft white bandages. He could feel there were abrasions on his skin. He sighed, he thought himself to be back in the tavern, the hearth looked familiar to him. But what of the others?

He turned his head. Two of the cots lay abandoned, but a third, lay just feet from his. The form he saw was rather small, though he could not tell who it might be. Slowly he pulled himself to a sitting position. His head pounded terribly, and the skin on his face felt as taut as an emptied wineskin that hadn't been properly seasoned.

He pulled the sheet up covering his shoulders. He'd not been that exposed around anyone except Christine, and though many men paid this no mind, Erik did not share in their opinion. He glanced around the room. It was as though the few who milled about were oblivious to his stirrings, which pleased him. Just now he'd not receive any however well intentioned doting.

He sat for a few minutes, examining with his sore eyes the color and chapping of his hands, the deep red tones of his arms and chest. His curiosity tugged at him. He needed to know who still lay there with him. He hoped the other two were well; up and about as they certainly no longer lingered there by the fire.

Slowly he rose, making his way very carefully over the cot next to his. Sitting on the stone edge of the hearth, he peered down at the small crown of gray he could see peeking from beneath the blankets. It was the old woman. That meant that Nicole and her mother were well, at least he hoped so.

Reaching out he pulled down just enough of the blankets to reveal her cheek. She was warm to the touch though her color wasn't at all good as far as he was concerned. He tenderly stroked her cheek. Oh how he wished Nadir had been able to talk to this woman before he'd left for Paris. Something about her seemed familiar, but Erik could not say what or why.

He rubbed the soft part of his palm across her flesh. Her eyes fluttered. He leaned down, "woman?"

She blinked several more times before her eyes remained open, though not far. She spoke so quietly that if he'd not been next to her, he'd not have known that she was even speaking.

"Nicole…my daughter…" Erik whispered to her as he continued to stroke her cheek. "They are both safe…they are here." Though Erik in truth did not know where. It appeared she smiled just slightly, a small sigh rising from her chest, making her wince.

Erik looked at her, his brow furrowed. "What pains you woman?" She shook her head. "My side, its…" she trailed off. She swallowed. "Have you the books?" Erik nodded, "yes, I shall see to their return."

She was shaking her head, a pained expression as though every movement seemed to cause her discomfort. "No...they're for the boy."

Erik shook his head, sighing disgustedly. "Woman, there is no boy, why do you speak of a boy who does not live?"

Her eyes welled with tears. "Yes, there's a boy…he has your eyes…those beautiful eyes."

Erik looked down on her with such pity. He knew the truth…he'd no children…no possibility of children before those that Christine now carried. "It shan't be possible woman…it is but a dream."

She shook her head. "No…he'd gone out in the storm, he disappeared…I've been waiting for him." Erik took pity on her. He'd listen, not argue, for it did no good. She believed there'd been a boy…what was the harm now? "Yes, the boy mum, what did you say his name was mum?"

She closed her eyes, swallowing, "he'd not been permitted a name, no name for the damned they'd said."

Erik's insides hurt, what child would be deprived of a name? "Why, why was he damned? What fault did he possess?"

She was shaking her head, pain obviously overtaking her.

"Rest woman, do not worry for now, you need to rest." Erik was stroking her forehead again.

She looked up at him, "the books, promise me you'll give him the books…he needs them."

Erik shook his head…yet another promise he'd no hope of keeping, but if it provided her some temporary comfort, he'd agree. "Yes, I shall see that he gets them woman. Now rest."

She closed her eyes. Erik felt guilty for not being able to help her find release from this turmoil, for he knew much about the inner workings of the torment in one's own mind.

Later he wouldn't be able to recall just what had compelled him, but he'd a feeling, a nagging inner feeling. "Woman?" She opened her eyes wearily, "DeChagny…why did you use that name…"

The expression on her face was of utter surprise and would come to haunt him. "That's his name…your boy's name sir. Forgive me…you never knew." Her eyes were insistent and fixed.

Erik looked down in horror at the woman as her eyes slowly fluttered closed. She'd fallen back to sleep. He shook his head. How?…How had she found that name…why he…what connection had she made in her convoluted mind?

That name….it haunted him, challenged him, tortured him at every turn. He was finished with that name, he'd left it…every remnant of it behind in Paris, and that is where he'd intended for it to stay. He looked down at the sleeping form. When she woke, when she was well again, perhaps they'd speak of it…she needed to know the truth…there was no boy.

XXX

Raoul had fallen asleep with Meg in his arms as he had several nights before. Each time he woke to find her there, it seemed more and more real. The possibilities were opportunities that lay before them. Much had been decided as the moon shone last night.

She'd stay…convalesce, until the Opera House required her mother's return. Meg would go to visit Elizabeth in the country, and return when she was ready, no matter what she'd decided. Opera House or DeChagny manor, either would welcome her with open arms. It was a plan, and somehow though it was not what he'd first intended when he'd brought her there that first night, it would do just now. This was the only way for them to be certain, absolutely certain that they'd made their decisions with eyes wide open of all the consequences and responsibilities.

Meg would heal, he would prepare, it was a favorable plan. With any fortune at all, it was one that could bring happiness to all of them, even his father. An heir was to be born to the DeChagny household, and he believed in his heart now, more than ever, that he'd found her…the one his mother had predicted, and one that his father was slowly warming to.

He leaned down, placing a tender kiss on Meg's forehead. She sighed, pushing her head into his shoulder. Yes, for once, in a very long while, things seemed to be proceeding in an auspicious direction. A little more each day his heart healed, began to hope, began to dream, of life as it could be.

**Author's Notes:**

**Dear Faithfuls:** Thank goodness I'm home….it was good for me to go, but I like coming back even more! I did miss my computer, and of course all of you! Thank you for tolerating these 'blips' in the progress of the story. I'll have one again the third week of October, but I don't know which days for certain, ahh…the joys of being gainfully employed!

Captainoblivious: Anthropology field trip? I think that sounds entirely wonderful! I hope that you had a wonderful time.

Yes, yes, our Christine is a lucky lady! Erik is such an intense person…perhaps that's what comes from growing through such adversity! Hope you liked this new chapter!

Phantomsrogue: Congratulations for sticking it through with college. No matter how long it takes to accomplish the goal, it is great when it is done. The way I look at projects that take longer than I'd hoped or planned, is that I'd have spent that part of my life, or those years doing something else, so at least I've accomplished this (insert name of project) Somehow that helps me keep things in perspective. I myself have over eight years of college…so I can completely empathize! And yes, I agree, we all need to have an outlet for the stressors in our life, and collaboration is often a very good one!

Oh, I was going to mention, the storyline will be o.k. for 'The Darker Side of Paris', POTO was set in 1870 which is perfect for the timing of all the other events…everything was reaching its pinnacle, ready to erupt, so I think it makes such perfect sense for these all to come together! I am very excited about the prospects! I think we will be able to blend the stories well. The revolution was happening then, the events of the Paris Commune took place in 1871… It will be a good work indeed!

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Things are not entirely resolved, though we did get a glimpse of everyone's state of affairs!

**WriterMuseoftheNight**: I am glad you are liking the developments. Sorry about the saw reference, but you know, that's how they solved things back then…if they couldn't make it better right away, they sawed if off so the infection wouldn't spread! Yikes…makes you glad to live in the 21st century doesn't it? Sorry I cannot tell you more about the blood…I'd spoil the coming chapters! You ask so very many good questions. Meg and Christine at the Opera House? I don't know if that could ever be…. There are so many things that prevent them from ever returning to their former life. It's sort of like real life…when you've chosen a path…sometimes there is never a way to go back… The other questions and speculations, I cannot tell…for it would betray the story!

Glad to hear that you've read 'Great Expectations', it truly is a beautiful story isn't it? Oh, no need for apology regarding P & P. There are many things that I am completely ignorant of….I like to call those "learning opportunities"! The author of 'Pride and Prejudice' is Jane Austen. You should be able to get this in paper back, a bit less expensive. Yes, I too look forward to reading of Burns poetry. He was a very passionate man, one who lived his life regardless of what others thought or said. He had little social conscience I'm afraid, but if he could have quoted Elvis, it would have been his motto "I did it my way!" LOL!

**Phantomfan13**: Yes, Antoinette… As soon as I heard the name it just seemed to fit. You had so much in your review I don't know where to start! You certainly have many interests going on all at once don't you! I for one cannot imagine my father hanging me over the railing at Niagra Falls! I can promise you, our dear Erik shan't be doing anything so scary! LOL. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

BatteredChild: I must admit every time I type your tag name I shudder. Its not that tag names are either good or bad, but I think of our dear Erik being beaten by that gypsy!

You are right, though Erik and Nicole are back at the Inn, I think about the struggle Erik and Christine have to go through. He wants to be at her side always, but these things just keep pulling him away from her…he simply cannot let some things go. He still has many secrets he has not shared with Christine, and in truth, I think he has to come to terms with them himself before he can ever share them with her. Right now he's concentrating on loving her, trying to put the past behind him…though it seems now that he finally has a future, that his past won't leave him alone! Oh the irony…oh the agony!

Hope you enjoyed the chapter!

**Phantomlover05**: Yes, Raoul is a gentleman…..seems to run in the family? Hmmmm. Hope you enjoyed this last installment.

**Lirel-eris**: Good to hear from you. I can certainly understand how life just gets busy…it happens to all of us! I am most happy to hear that you are able to relate to each of the characters. It was my hope to make them human…for in that way we can care for them all! I do rather smile when I read "addictive labyrinth" in your review. I've used the word in previous chapters, and you shall be seeing it again in a few yet to come!

Yes, please do stop by from time to time and let us know how things are with you!

**Foreverphantoms:** I smiled from ear to ear when I read that your husband is finally relenting and going to watch POTO with you! Hurray! Perhaps once he sees it, especially with a box of chocolates and tissue, he will understand the beauty of the story and why you are drawn to it so. I shiver when I think that yet another member of our Phamily may be spreading the joy to a newcomer! I smiled even wider that it was that one quote that hooked him! It is entirely wonderful that you've taught your son's this quote…it will stay with them all the days of their life. I can still remember the time and the place I was when I heard it, and how profound an impact it had on me. I guess that is why I included it in the story. You could just see how Erik would have felt that way. He had been able to for years, watch society without having to participate in it…and no doubt his time in Persia, would have only reinforced those ideals. Sometimes when we sit back and observe, we can learn so much more!

Good that some of the music will make it onto the CD for 'little Erik'! To have dad and sister making that for him is all that much sweeter! Happy to hear that he is doing well. Two pounds is small, but ever ounce makes life a little better for him! The fact that he gaining weight is such a good sign!

Thank you for your comments regarding the characters and the story. It warms my heart every time I read that someone is enjoying it!


	134. Wishes

**Chapter 133 Wishes**

The day had been dreadfully long, followed by what seemed an eternal night. The doctor had kept watch over his keeps with a scrupulous eye. Pulses, respiration, abrasions, all tended to. There was nothing to be done now but wait. He'd finally joined the inn-keeper for that much needed brandy.

He'd a good deal to discuss with the innkeeper as he'd not been back to Chauesser since his grandfather's passing. Truly, the hamlet was far too small for him to exercise his newly learned knowledge. He longed for a more progressive, larger city, one where he could make his mark. But a promise he'd made, and a promise he'd keep. Though he loathed the idea of spending his first years in such a small village so far away from what he called civilized society, he lived in a day and time when a man was only as good as his word, and he'd worked far too hard to sully his reputation…or that of his grandfather's.

XXXXX

Nicole had taken the bath that had been drawn for her, soaking up to her neck in bubbles and lavender. It had taken a long while before she felt warmed through to the bone. Her mother had tried to fight sleep, but she'd given in sitting by the warmth of the fire. She'd not wanted to stray far, letting her mother out of her sight again, though deep in her heart she knew none would let her out of the tavern.

The night hours were waning. It had been a difficult for all…for those that waited, for those that worried, for those that lay somewhere in between. Those few precious hours, just before morning broke were the quietest of all.

Nicole pushed her feet through the last of the water as she stood, wrapping the warm robe around her damp flesh. Her friend had fallen asleep on the divan in front of the fireplace in her employer's quarters. All of the other rooms had been occupied, leaving little for him to offer her, but his own. She'd no clothing there, and had decided that the robe would suffice. She'd want now to check on her mother and grandmother.

Wrapping herself as best she could, Nicole made her way down the long hall that led to the main set of stairs that connected to the floors below. The tavern was nearly silent as she made her way down. The singular sound she could hear, came from the back of the kitchen; the soft hum of the head cook, she was peeling potatoes for breakfast. Most wouldn't have known the sound at all, but Nicole had become keenly familiar with it. A mixture of Russian and old Hebrew music she'd told her upon inquiry some months ago.

Nicole turned the corner, walking out into the room where she'd been taken from hours before. Her mother was asleep on her appointed cot. No doubt some kind soul had come along and tucked the blankets in perfectly around her. She looked like a sleeping doll. Nicole smiled, at least she was resting peacefully.

She glanced over at where she'd last seen her grandmother. There, sat the man, holding her hand. He'd fallen fast asleep, his head laid on the bed next to her, her hand laying protectively over it. It looked so oddly natural.

Nicole walked towards them, confusion coursing through her mind. She'd no understanding of what it was that made this man so different from the rest. He was extraordinary. There was little doubt his wife loved him dearly, she'd seen it in her eyes when last they'd dined there. Nicole had never met one like him before, and doubted greatly that she ever would. He'd left his wife to come out in this terrible storm to save a woman that had done little else but provide a constant source of irritation whenever he'd encountered her.

Suddenly Nicole felt guilty for his having left his wife's side when he barely knew her grandmother. She hoped one day she'd have opportunity to thank him properly for all he'd risked to save her grandmother. For now she was content to see that he was up and around. She'd heard mumblings from the doctor about frost-bite, exposure to the cold, it's ill effects on his lungs. Surely those concerns could be allayed now that he was mobile.

She came to rest above them. Looking down she noticed that he sat in a crumpled heap next to the bed, and she knew it shan't be good for him. She gazed upon his face pitifully. It was red and chapped, no doubt a temporal suffering for the exposure he'd endured. Nicole reached down gently rubbing his shoulder. She'd nudged him several times before he stirred.

Instinctively Erik seized her by the wrists with a powerful grip before he'd even opened his eyes. He blinked them fiercely trying to focus. They stung as though they'd been seared by fire and then doused with vinegar.

He looked up at Nicole through bleary eyes, seeing the terror on her face he quickly released her arms.

She stepped back warily, her hands trembling, rubbing at each wrist. "I'm..I'm…so sorry…you looked uncomfortable, and I…." She stopped, his gaze had not altered, perhaps he was as angry as she thought.

Erik looked down at the old woman, then back up at Nicole. He sat up slightly arching his back. He'd not slept in such an awkward position for a very long time, and it only furthered his discomforts . He glanced back at Nicole, releasing her grandmother's hand.

"The first thing she asked about was you." Erik said as he looked down at the old woman. His voice was hoarse, he could feel the affects of the cold wind had settled upon his lungs. He reached out pushing the strands of gray from her forehead. "She's so cold," Erik said a genuine look of concern on his face. He began tucking the blankets tightly around her…betraying who had done so to he mother…his methods were exacting.

Nicole smiled. "We love her very much sir, my mother and I. I shan't even begin to think of what life would have been for us if you'd not found her."

Erik looked down again, a serious expression on his face. "It was meant to be," was all he could say. Erik had resigned himself to the fact that whilst what he had done may have seemed heroic to some, it had ultimately been an act of selfishness. It was his own self-interest in the woman that had driven him to find her…not an act of altruism as some may have erroneously believed. He'd not be held to account for it, it would be a ruse and he knew it.

He shook his head, yet again another feeling of wishing he was once more in the solitude of his lair…where everything was predictable, constant, and in his control. Solitude…it was something he longed for now…an elusive dream. How odd, that which had tormented him so…now he sought, but it would not be so again….he knew it. He was both thankful for the redemption from it, and plagued by his want of it…as if it were a long lost friend. Perhaps one always misses what one has become accustomed to…no matter how bitter or harsh.

"Where did you find her? In what state of affairs was she? Was she afraid?" Nicole interrupted his self-imposed fog of isolation.

Erik sighed. He'd answer whatever questions she wished….in time, but first, he'd a few of his own he'd wanted answers to.

XXXXXXXX

Christine woke, she'd heard the clock downstairs chime, was it four in the morning? Or was it five? The sky looked a bit light, but not fully light… The clock had become a sound that she'd become attuned to…much like a mother to a new-born infant…she'd wake if she thought it was beckoning her.

She reached over turning down the hurricane lamp that sat next to the bed. She'd fallen asleep attempting to read the book which he'd left for her, though alas it was under the guise of needing the light for reading, she'd been thankful for the extra light in the room. It simply was not the same without him there. Since her first dream or vision or whatever one would call it the darkness had become like a ghost that haunted her. It reminded her of how truly grateful she was for his presence. With him in it she feared not the darkness…without him it was a hollow place, full of all sorts of things and thoughts one avoids scrupulously in the light of day for fear of it consuming you. Without him there, she was diminished…..only half, it required his physical presence for her to feel whole.

She rose and walked to the window that lay on the other side of the room. As she sat down, she pulled the blanket she'd brought with her up around her shoulders. The chill she'd felt from the night before had not ever left her though she knew it was more in her mind than in her body. She gazed out the window, marveling at the splendor. The snow had stopped, the wind had subsided. The out of doors was full of nothing but utter silence. It was as if every little creature had scampered far from the surface, as not so much as one set of prints dotted the pristine surface of the drifts that she could tell.

The snow was glowing that odd sort of surreal blue that it does when the light of the moon still shines, but it is beginning to surrender its grasp to the pink hues of the coming morning. It was beautiful….absolutely beautiful, but it was without peace for Christine. Her heart was low as she thought of her Erik out in the worst of it.

She prayed he was safe and warm. Her hand floated down to her stomach. She'd not rested fully, and even now the warmth of the bed called to her. She'd want to be ready to receive him when he came home.

As she padded quietly back to the comfort of her bed, the words of the doctor and those of Erik's came to her mind…be careful, rest, take good care…. She smiled as she nestled back beneath the covers. Her eyes fluttering as she lay looking up the ceiling….the ballerinas, the angels….Erik's words. Though he was not there to comfort her in a physical sense, he was there in spirit, watching over…as he always had. She wished for nothing more than the hours to pass….so he would return to her.

XXXXX

Nadir and DeChagny sat in the two leather chairs in front of the fire in the drawing room. They'd talked for hours of Parisian politics, the unrest that even now seized Paris herself; the most interesting productions of Brahms, Mozart, Chopin; their favorite authors Tolstoy, Stowe, Locke, Bacon; history; and women.

It was in fact the last discussion of a quote from Sir Francis Bacon's writing, 'Of Great Place', that they'd come upon common ground, for both agreed with his musings, reciting together in unison:

"_It is a strange desire, to seek power and lose liberty, or to seek power over others and to lose power over a man's self The rising unto place is laborious, and by pains men come to greater pains, and it is sometimes base; and by indignities men come to dignities. The standing is slippery, and the regress is either a downfall or at least an eclipse, which is a melancholy thing"._

They'd sized one another up a bit, where Madame Giry was concerned. Nadir hoped she'd read the note by now, and DeChagny was assured that his actions had not been misunderstood.

Both men felt sufficiently pleased with themselves thinking to have taken the upper hand in the conversations. In truth it was the 12 year-old sherry cask brandy that had been the victor. With the bottle nearly half empty on the table between them, and a crystal ashtray full of fine cigars partly consumed, they'd lost track of time, and perhaps taken a wee bit of leave of their senses. It wasn't until Madeline had peeked her head in adorned in her night garb asking if they wanted a pot of coffee or tea, that they'd even thought to glance at the clock.

Nadir was tired, and entirely ready to retire for whatever hours remained of the night. DeChagny felt rested, though he'd retire himself lest he repeat the events of the previous day and sleep through it.

The men rose and walked from the room. A chill greeting them as they passed into the vacant hallway. The snow may have stopped, and the winds eased, but that didn't prevent the cold from permeating the house.

The fullness of morning would be telling. If the weather held as it was now, the sleigh in Raoul's stables might very well be employed to carry them off to Paris. Both had much to do.

As each day passed the greater Nadir's guilt became for Sara not finding her final rest. Another day's time and the disrespect would have grown sufficiently, that he'd nearly thought of having her simply buried quietly in an unassuming plot, and exhuming her at a later date once her proper gravesite and children were found. He hoped it would not come to that, but if it should, he'd at least thought it through. He knew of one plot that was as of yet unoccupied. It belonged to his closest friend. He'd no doubt now that Erik had no use for it…there would be need for a family plot now. Though he'd have to seek permission beforehand.

As the men mounted the stairs, DeChagny looked at Nadir, "I think sir, had you and I met as much younger men, we could have done a great many things together." He reached out patting Nadir on the shoulder.

Nadir smiled to himself…perhaps he'd bring up his talent of doing family geneaologies soon. It would give them so much more to talk about….and he'd have time to check on Erik's relations…..if he could do so unnoticed. "I think sir, you are correct in your assumptions, it would have indeed been a fine thing had we met years ago." He returned DeChagny's sentiment.

They parted ways in the hallway that ran along to the upper chambers. "Until the morrow then sir!" DeChagny said with a chortle. "Indeed." Nadir said with a nod and then disappeared into his room.

DeChagny made his way down to his own room, stopping to peek into Raoul's to see if his son had already risen for the day, though he'd doubted as much. He pushed on the door just slightly, the bed was vacant. DeChagny scowled. Surely the boy was not up already, his bed made. The house was silent, he'd not been down stairs….then it struck him.

He retraced his path down the corridor to Meg's room. He tried the door handle, but it would not give way. It was locked. His scowl deepened and his brow furrowed. If his son had seen fit to stay in a lady's chambers, he'd need to have a serious discussion with him…and he thought, with her as well. There were consequences for every action, and he needed to be cognizant of the fact that this sort of behavior would raise the ire of society should any of his staff be so inclined to share knowledge of it.

XXXX

Madame Giry had been awake for an hour or more now. She'd listened as Nadir had entered his room, and DeChagny's return, departure, and subsequent movement passed her door down along the corridor to his own room. She stood by the door that separated her room from Nadir's, listening as he'd removed his shoes and put them beside his bed, clearing his throat, and then all was quiet.

He'd stood by the door leading to their private hallway for a long while before he'd retired. He hoped she'd understood his note. That she didn't feel rejection. That she knew he was sincere, that he'd no want to hurt her or anyone. They were both people filled with obligation, depended on with the highest honor by those that they cared for. Denying oneself had become a way of life for both of them, and to take a path that deviated from that predictability, would give everyone pause. For in a world with such unrest there needed to be constants, rocks, pillars, that one could turn to, lay hands on when all else felt lost.

He'd retreated to his bed, as tired as he'd felt in a long while. When he was a bit younger man, his body had been most tolerant of his comings and goings at all hours of the day and night. Now, being a bit more distinguished, he had need to acknowledge the shortcomings of his flesh. He was tired, and sleep was the only remedy. He'd find a private moment to talk to her…to talk to Meg. They both needed him….and he'd be the first to admit, that it felt pleasant. To be needed was akin to being loved…and one could wish for little more in this life.

Madame Giry slid her hand down the smooth panel of the door. She'd been foolish, rash, to believe that love would be possible in these circumstances. She knew Nadir spoke the strictest of truth, though that knowledge did not make the news any less painful to her heart. She'd no hope of returning to her slumber. She'd tried in vain to do so, but to no avail. She wandered over to the window seat. Reclining in its comforts she looked out at the abundant hills of snow. She sighed. The storm had not improved their situation.

This had been a most difficult season, perhaps the most difficult she'd been through since her husband passed. So very much had happened since last Spring that she could hardly wrap the far reaches of her mind around the lot of it. How could one life contain so much? She closed her eyes. Though she tried to think of something, anything else, she could not. She rose, going to the only thing she knew would provide her the relief she sought. She sat down at her desk, withdrew a sheet of parchment, and began.

My Dearest Nadir:

It is with a heavy heart that I write this response. I know that present circumstances prevent us from seeking refugee of any kind in one another's company. As you so adroitly put it, we've so many others to consider aside from ourselves. One day we may find ourselves in much more favorable arrangements, but until then, I concur. Fond friends we've been, and the fondest of friends we shall always be.

I think it best you know, if you do not already, that Raoul has stated his intentions to me for Meg's future welfare. Though this no doubt is rather inconvenient, and most unusual, it seems to suit the two of them just now. This of course, presents a new set of circumstances, as far as Meg is concerned with her other family members, but as you and I both know, love does not often follow the most prudent course. A great many sacrifices will have to be made in this account. I do fear though, the knowledge with which Meg must come to terms, for this is a great thing to keep to oneself for a lifetime. Should it ever be discovered, a great many would come to suffer for it.

In my heart there is so much that I wish had been different, but alas it shan't be so. We cannot, nor should we hope to, orchestrate all things in our life. But that does not make us wish for it to be so very much less complicated.

I've spoken, at length to Meg of this very thing. She's to decide soon what she will do. Time will heal her external wounds, and soon the Opera House will be ready. By then, all will have to be resolved in her mind and heart, if there is to be a future for either of us. I do so pray that whatever course is chosen that we can remain in contact, if however infrequently.

This letter shall end a rather sad discourse, though I look forward with some optimism to the future. There is always happiness to be found, though sometimes we must search hard to find it. I've no doubt in my heart that should we but remain as we now are, there will always be a special memory that the two of share, and that will warm me each time I think of it.

With fondest regards, M

Madame Giry blew on the ink fanning it so that it would dry. She'd slip it inside an envelope and tuck it under Nadir's pillow later in the day when she could. For now she would turn her attentions back to the window seat and the book Erik had given her. In those hours of solitude she found some comfort. All would be well…she knew, nay, believed in her heart that it simply had to be. She closed her eyes briefly, wishing she could make everything straight, set it right, though she knew all the wishing in the world would not make the future what it would not be.

**Author's Notes:**

**Captainoblivious**: Glad to hear that your field trip did not turn out to be the disappointment that you thought it might, and that your prof was a bit more pleasant than you'd expected. Perhaps she sees in you a bit of herself as a younger woman? Often that accounts for a turn in one's mood. If she'd been "crabby" or rash with the others and pleasant with you, there is something that she admires in you!

Oh, I am to convey to you that Erik will not have any of your sneaking up on him…he has plans for those that disturb him in the middle of his recovery….DUN, Dun, DUN indeed! LOL Yes the plot is thickening much like a good winter stew…but the end, though perhaps some would prefer to be put out of their misery, is not yet at hand….we've babies to deliver, and a few more unexpected turns before the end could come. I'd made a promise to myself, and to our Phamily that it would be a satisfying end, though perhaps at this point a bit unpredictable. Things can go either way at this point…one simply cannot know! Oh yes, I do love a good bit of mystery and intrigue!

**Phantomsrogue**: My apologies, I am a bit remiss on checking my e-mail, but by Friday I will have done so, it is my solemn vow to you! Oh how nice it is to be missed! It warms the cockles of my chilly heart! Yes, now on to your point about Erik not "getting it". It would seem someone with such intelligence would be able to put two and two together, but he does not know what we know. Its sort of like when you watch a game show and you know the answer to the question that has just been asked and you stand in front of your TV screaming, and the contestant just doesn't get it! Poor dear Erik, he's no idea what the connection could possibly be. He doesn't even know where he was born or raised his first years. For all he knows it could have been in another country. It seems far too implausible for him to ever make the connection, though he does maintain a healthy curiosity about it. Time will tell what shall be revealed…..

R & M …. 'The Darker Side of Paris'….hmmmm, yes, there are possibilities there. The relationships could develop…and if properly aged, it might make sense that Raoul is coming into some sort of "power" in Parisian society by the time the Moulin Rouge is opened….hmmmm… perhaps he will be "against" all the brothel stands for?

**WriterMuseoftheNight**: Thank you for the compliment. The last chapter was a bit "packed" with information, but that's what happens when I have time for my mind to wander. We sort of needed an update on what was going on for the people in the story don't you think? I often smile when I read reviews because some do guess what is coming next…..

Yes, my assignment did go well…which of course always leads to another one. And sadly that takes me away from my passion…this story….but thankfully for me, it will be a few weeks away!

**Phantomfan13:** Yes, the storm has slowed everyone down…in fact it almost feels like they are moving in slow motion doesn't it? The foal….I cannot tell you my dear, but let us just say we may become rather attached to the little darling in the future!

My goodness you've a busy schedule with school…you've touched on another one of my passions…science. In fact before I settled on my current profession, I had every intention of becoming a bio-chemist…yes…I was one of those nerds that memorized the periodic table, and could spew out the formulas and compositions of many common elemental things. Yikes…yet another confession…I'm solidifying my psycho-nerd image a little more each day!

**Tex110**: Raoul and Meg are a bit happier than I think anyone might have imagined. Most, including myself, had a disdain for Raoul as far as Christine was concerned. When she is taken out of the equation, as you suggested, it allows him a chance to develop into some sort of a less loathsome creature. Now, if we have bought into the idea that Erik and Raoul might actually be siblings, then it stands to reason that there has to be some sort of similarities in them…and since our beloved Erik is handsome, wise, handsome, strong, and did I mention handsome….LOL….that another human that shares at least part of his DNA would have to be at the very least, sort of loveable! Oh my, I am a silly sort aren't I?


	135. The Valley of the Shadow

**Chapter 134 The Valley of The Shadow**

Erik stood, motioning for Nicole to join him at a table not far from where both her mother and grandmother lay asleep. She sat in the chair across from his. The tiny wooden table had been host to many a traveler, if it had lips what stories it could tell, even for those that now sat as its guests. Erik was rubbing the rough redness of his hands together. They were tender to the touch, yet somehow they needed it. He looked up at her, and then over her shoulder as he nodded to the young man who now brought them each a plate of breakfast and some hot coffee. Though he'd not much of an appetite, he knew he should eat. He'd be wanting to head back to the winter house as soon as day broke.

Nicole had not known what to expect of the man. She was both fearful of, and deeply indebted to him. He was handsome and compassionate. Yet held within him a fury she'd only witnessed the once as he'd grabbed her wrists not moments ago, though she'd seen a hint of it when they'd had their first encounter on the road. There was little doubt he'd found himself in situations of danger a sufficient number of times that defending one's self had become as instinctive as breathing.

Nicole waited for him to raise his head. Looking at her he realized she'd not prayed as he had, or if she had, she had been far more brief. Either way he supposed, it mattered little. He cut into the slice of ham, raising it to his lips he consumed it, and at once his hunger revealed itself to him. Perhaps he'd needed it more than he realized.

The pair sat in silence as they tended to their breakfast. It wasn't until he'd refilled their cups that he spoke.

"Nicole, how is it that your grandmother came to Chauesser?" Nicole swallowed her bite of toast and preserves.

"It was long ago. She worked as a governess here for a wealthy family my mother said. She'd left when she married, but after her husband died, she'd returned here, working in various inns and things as a housekeeper. Mother said she'd fallen in love with the city from when she was a young woman, and though she'd not brought them there as children, she'd always spoken of it fondly."

Erik listened intently. He could understand wanting to return to something that he loved, he felt that same way about his home beneath the Opera House. "How is it that you and your mother came to stay here with her? Surely you'd had a home where you lived before."

Nicole looked down into the depths of her cup, as though she wished she could drown herself in it. "Its sad really. Mother received a letter, from a doctor who'd been treating grandmother for some years. He'd said her condition had worsened and that he thought it might be time for us to care for her." Nicole's eyes filled with tears, which she quickly swept away with her hand.

"My father had just taken ill, and wasn't up to traveling, so mother sent me on ahead to stay with grandmother until father recovered." Nicole was fighting back her emotions. She took a sip from her cup. "That was five years ago." Nicole looked up toward the window that led outside, and then into Erik's eyes. "My father never recovered, he died that summer." Nicole had closed her eyes as she revisited the events in her mind.

Erik looked upon her with sympathy. The man he once was would have been uncomfortable with such behavior, but the man that was evolving, found this to be a very real part of human nature, and he'd come to appreciate the human condition for what it was. He waited in silence for her to go on.

"My mother sent a post that I should stay, and she would come to Chauesser."

There was a long pause, Erik looked up at Nicole whose face was now twisted with pain and regret.

"I never even had a chance to say goodbye to him, to my friends, to my….." her voice trailed off.

Erik knew before he asked, though he felt compelled to, "someone special perhaps?"

Nicole nodded, a new set of tears forming in her eyes. Then she wiped under her eyes and looked at Erik, with a forced smile. "I understand that he and his wife are very happy…they've just welcomed their second child into the world this past Christmas."

Erik understood now…she loved her mother, her grandmother, but she'd made a sacrifice of herself to do it. "I see, and this pains you…that is understandable."

She smiled at him again, now wringing her hands, as she looked at them in her lap.

Erik thought for a moment, and continued. "Life is a curious set of events. One never quite knows why things happen as they do." He inhaled, the next he said had only recently become true to him. "I've come to appreciate in my life, the strangest things. I too once thought love to be out of my reach, beyond what I could ever have. But even my most certain thoughts were erroneous. Sometimes love finds us in the oddest place, just when we think all is lost, it finds us, and is sweeter than we'd ever imagined." His confession and compassion startled even him. He'd not confessed as much to anyone. But something of this girl felt like a kindred spirit.

Nicole smiled up at him. "I see the way she looks at you sir. She adores you with every fiber of her being….a girl knows these things."

Erik blushed just slightly. He knew Christine loved him, he'd not thought of what it appeared to be to the outside world, but now he knew. "Yes, I am a blessed man, she is a wonderful creature…and to think my own insecurities could have prevented me from allowing her to love me."

Nicole looked at him quite confused. He seemed like a dream come true for any woman, how is it possible that he had not known the assurances of love?

Erik caught the look of confusion on her face. "It is hard to describe Nicole, but let us just say that there was a time when I wasn't all that certain that my wife would indeed be my wife." He smiled at her, something tickling at the back of his mind. "Nicole, do not doubt yourself that you will one day find this yourself. You must have faith." Erik's mind was already working. He knew of another who felt a similar way, perhaps they'd be a perfect match.

"Now Nicole, how is it that you and your mother came to stay, rather than take the woman home with you?"

Nicole was distracted, but looked at him with curious eyes. "The doctor….he'd said she needed to be near him now, and since we'd no reason to return…he simply thought it best that he keep an eye on her. He felt her condition to be very fragile."

Erik looked at her, brow furrowed, "Condition?"

Nicole sipped her cup. "She'd gone quite mad, her mind playing tricks on her at every turn. Her heart was weakened by a fever she'd endured, and most of her strength had left her as she aged. She'd begun hallucinating about a boy, a boy she'd lost." Nicole shook her head. "In all the people we'd spoken with, they'd never seen her with a boy. She'd tended for several families, all girls, over the years, but never so much as one boy had ever been seen in her company. As time went on her imagination got the best of her and she'd make up elaborate stories of things, that I am far too embarrassed to tell anyone…my mother's sworn me to absolute secrecy over it."

Erik looked at Nicole. "Never a boy? Why then does she still speak of him as though her were alive?"

Nicole looked at Erik. "The doctor believes that perhaps she'd lost a son of her own, or perhaps a brother she'd never spoken of, and now her mind was trying to piece together a memory that didn't exist, to somehow put it into a package for her benefit."

Erik looked down at his plate as the young man came to collect it. He and Nicole sat with their cups in hand, staring into the fire. The glowing embers provided a warmth even from that distance. "So you stayed, all this long while? Caring for them?"

Nicole nodded. "My mother cared for her, and I worked so we could eat." Nicole chuckled. "Grandmother always boasted of this vast fortune that she'd been given to care for this imaginary boy, how she'd saved it for him….we never found evidence of a fortune." She sipped from her cup. "Grandmother's imagination was quite vivid."

Erik felt a double portion of sorrow for this family. So much hardship all in the name of being a family. He'd learned much about family since he'd been living on the surface of the earth instead of hiding beneath the Opera House. Life was no less complicated, and certainly contained no less heartache, it was but of a different kind. The value of life itself had changed. He'd once thought life to be an expendable commodity…his opinions were changing at the speed of his heart.

"And we've been here ever since. She has proven to be quite a handful I must say, though I mean no disrespect to her you understand," Nicole said with a hint of contrition in her voice. Erik nodded, he understood.

Nicole stared deeply into the fire as if it provided some sort of silent redemption from what she was about to confess. "Her stories, her wanderings, the behavior, I dare say all but pure evidence of the insanity of a crazed woman…." Nicole's voice trailed off. She looked seriously at Erik, "though I recall with fondness, times, just the night before she'd gone off in the storm as a matter of fact. She spoke with absolute clarity of a great storm of decades long passed. She'd recollected it not having been at all unlike the one that was then still brewing. She recanted memories of frigid winds, snows coursing down like waves in an ocean. She'd spoke of venturing out under the cloak of night…that is when her story turned again…she slipped back into the imaginings of her mind, talking of taking the boy down the stairs and out into the snows to retrieve something, though she couldn't remember what. Her claim to have become separated and that is when she lost him." Nicole shook her head. "How can one's mind make up such detail, such fantasy?"

Erik was staring down at the table. Something about Nicole's statement made him feel abruptly numb. His head began to ache, he shut his eyes, a sharp pain running from the base of his head down his spine.

Nicole looked at him, "is everything alright?" Erik shook his head.

"It is nothing but a bit of discomfort, I shall be fine."

Nicole looked over at her mother and grandmother, and then back at Erik. She thought he might benefit from a bit more rest. No doubt he'd be returning home this morning, and he'd need to prepare for it. "Sir, I've enjoyed the pleasure of your company over breakfast." Erik smiled at her, his head feeling like it was splitting. "If you do not mind at all, I think I should want to find some proper clothing before the rest of the inn is awake. I shan't have want to be found in nothing more than a robe with men about."

Something was odd about it. Though Erik was a man, she'd not felt uncomfortable around him in it. Perhaps it was that she felt him to be a true gentleman, or perhaps it was the fact he felt somehow more like family to her now having gone through this ordeal together. In any case, she felt entirely comfortable in his presence.

Erik nodded again, "that is a most wise thought. I've seen the likes of some that have found themselves stranded here. I've no doubt they'd take every advantage they felt they could." Nicole nodded at him as she rose and departed.

Nicole retreated to the innkeeper's quarters at his bidding. His wife had found some suitable garments for her. Though they weren't a perfect fit, they would suffice for the day.

Erik returned to the old woman's side. He glanced over at her daughter who lay sound asleep not feet from her. The poignancy of the moment was not lost on his soul. Erik had never known his father nor his mother, and this love, this bond between them, was as foreign as a ship that sailed from a distant sea. What was it like, he wondered. What would it be like when Christine gave birth to a being who would love him as desperately as this woman loved her mother? So much of this he had tried to imagine all those years he had spent alone…now he would know this great love.

He glanced back and forth between the sleeping women, there was intangible connection that they shared, flesh of one flesh, conceived in love, born in love, the essence of love itself. What could be greater evidence of pure love than a child's undying adulation for its mother, or in turn her love for her child? Erik thought there could be nothing as pure and true.

It made him wonder of his own mother….had she loved him? Had she wanted him until she'd seen his hideous flesh and then cursed the very day he'd been conceived? Had she died in childbirth and his father discarded him as a rock about his neck? Had his father died before his birth, and then his mother during, making him an orphan tossed about here and there?

No. He shook his head. Why this torture? Why these thoughts now…it had been so many years…he'd put this behind him he'd thought. His years of solitude had purged it from his soul…his years in Persia had diminished his need for vengeance…and the love of his wife had helped him heal. His mind had captured the essence of some woman who'd been with him for a number of years. But nothing more than an essence, a shadow in his memory. Perhaps he'd blocked it out of his mind in an attempt to preserve what little he'd had left of his sanity. So many questions would remain forever unanswered in this life.

He looked once more over at the daughter who'd come to be with her mother, and then at the grandmother who'd returned to a town she'd loved. By Nicole's own account, this woman he now looked down on, had returned here for a reason. Erik felt pity once again for her. What had happened in her life that she'd deserved such mental anguish?

He reached out touching her forehead. Her eyes opened slowly. Her breathing was labored, her reflexes slow. She reached out touching his face, her hand feeble and unsteady. Her voice was faint but distinct, "he was a good boy…his mother never knew…it is my greatest regret…the promise…perhaps she'd have saved him…"

Erik grimaced. He'd listen to her, as long as she wanted. It was indeed the most cruel thing he'd seen since he'd left Persia. To have one's mind so taken from you. To be so detached from reality. It was far worse than death, it meant torture as long as one had breath.

She looked up at Erik, her eyes were clear and set. "They've thought me mad all these years." She smiled, "but they never knew, no one knew. Take the books, read the books, find him," She blinked, her eyes ever more slowly. Opening them again, Erik's own grew wide.

He knew that look, he'd seen in not long before. That distant look, the one…the one Sara had given him. He held the woman's hand, feeling the side of her neck. Her pulse was slowing. He looked down at the horror that was before him, and at once he'd no thought of his own loss, of that which he would never know, he could think of her daughter and granddaughter alone.

"Woman…" she looked at him, the pleading in her eyes, "can I see them?"

Erik stood at once going to the woman that was asleep on the cot, gently shaking her until she opened her eyes. She sat up, a desperate look in her eye. Erik helped her rise and led her over to her mother's side. She grasped her hand, turning to look back at Erik, "can you.." Erik nodded, he knew what she needed.

Erik made swift work of the stairs as he traveled up them to find Nicole. He stood in the dark hallway, quickly assessing that she must be in the lone room that had light beneath the door. He moved to it and knocked sharply before opening it.

There Nicole stood, nearly dressed but horrified at his boldness. "Come child your mother is in need of you." Nicole ran to him, he grabbing her hand as he moved with equal speed down the stairs.

Her mother was leaning next to her grandmother, she could see that she was talking to her, shaking her head, pleading. Nicole let go of Erik's hand, glancing gratefully back at him as she ran to her mother's side. They sat huddled over the woman, talking incessantly, tears running down their faces.

Erik hadn't done so consciously, but he'd begun to back himself into the shadows of the room that was not fully light. A temporary assemblage of clouds had darkened the sky as if out of respect. He watched with intense fascination as the family traveled into the valley of the shadow of death with the woman.

He'd watched life leave a body, the look in their eye, the fear, the peace, he'd seen death in all of its gore and glory. What he'd never witnessed, not once in his life, was the grief of those who were being led to the river's edge by their loved one, only being able to watch them cross alone. He'd never been witness to this pain, this deep emotion of grief when it was as fresh and warm as the body that was dying before them.

He'd known just by the look in the woman's eyes, she entered her last hour. The least he could do for them was to allow them the peace they needed. He could have called for the doctor, but it would have attracted the attention of all the rest, and the woman's final precious moments would have become a freak-show for all those that were awake. He knew the pain of such first hand. There was nothing to be done for the woman to save her. This time belonged to the family and to them alone.

He watched for a long while as they pleaded, with her, with God Himself to spare her life, though he could tell by the look on their faces that they knew it was in vane.

A man had walked toward the room, looking in that general direction. Erik felt the ire rise in his soul. Before he'd even realized it, he'd taken on the stance…the one he'd used when he was the indomitable force at the Opera Populaire, in Persia…one of intimidation. A look that had sent even the bravest of men tail tucked, and retreating.

He stood between the man and the stone wall he was attempting to look around, and the view of the cot where the woman and her family were. Erik shook his head, uttering but one simple phrase that turned the man round, "if you value your life, you shan't disturb them sir. Hell hath no fury that you shan't see if you'd not give them a moments peace."

The man at first looked indignant, but quickly realized by the seriousness of Erik's eyes, and the clench in his jaw, that he was beyond serious…..he was deadly serious. The man quickly retreated to his solitary table, just at the edge of Erik's view. Erik would keep an eye on him, as he kept a watchful eye over them.

He glanced back at the three women. Nicole and her mother were weeping, each holding one of the woman's hands. In the silence of that room Erik could hear them beginning to recite the 23rd Psalm…and he began to say it with them silently, "yeah though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me, thy rod and thy staff they comfort me…"

He'd made it through to the end with them. He watched from the shadows as they each kissed her hand and laid it across her chest. Nicole and her mother each put their hands on her leaning down to pray. Their shoulders shook with the wretched crying that overtook them. Though it was silent Erik could hear their mournful sobs. Watching with curious eyes as the family grieved her passing.

His own eyes full of tears that flowed over his lids and down his face, soaking the sheet he'd wrapped around him. Erik marveled at the intensity with which one left their life, even peacefully as this woman had, the trail of grief he'd never bore witness to. He'd never encountered it, and the intense sadness nearly undid him.

In a few short months he'd be witnessing the opposite end of life as he and Christine welcomed their children into the world. He'd no doubt he'd remember these moments with equal awe. In the depth of the cellars of the Opera House he'd only read of these acts of life, these rites of passage, but somehow the words had not done the process justice. To truly know something, one must embrace it. He'd learned so many things about life, but this one simple truth had escaped him. Life is as precious as you make it, right to the last minutes you've breath in your lungs.

An overwhelming sadness settled upon him. How many deaths he'd witnessed…how many lives had come to tragic ends…it was like playing God….he'd never have his hand in it again…unless he'd been given no other choice, to save himself…or someone he loved.

Erik glanced once more at the women. They cried bitterly laying over the cot. Erik could watch no more. He turned his back, standing fully in the doorway that led from one room to the other. He'd stand there all day if that is what they needed. That was the least and most he could do for the woman now.

**Author's Notes:**

**Captainoblivious:** Your popping up around Erik could very well be dangerous to your health as our dear Nicole can attest to. Remember…he has all of his instincts still in tact…and though our beloved Erik is transforming into a gentleman, he's far from healed on the inside…sometimes those pains, that damage affects one's life for a very long while, though they try to deny it. Ahem..clears throat Now, before I reveal too much I shall bid you adieu have a wonderful weekend. Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving to you as well!

**Phantomsrogue**: Glad you like the analogy. Though we not all be willing to admit it, we've all done it! Yes, I agree, we probably shouldn't burden our Phamily with all the details of a story that has yet to be born. But yes, there are many possibilities. I'm not certain about the Meg thing. There are so many stories of people with dual identities…there should be at least one pure soul in the lot of them don't you think? However, it could be such a thing that Louis takes a fancy to her, thus protecting her from Lestat…hmmmm…so many possibilities there… Well yes, the collaboration process does take some doing doesn't it!

The characters in this story have certainly had their share of angst. Yes, we are all rooting for Erik to get back to his Christine, especially now…he needs the comfort of her arms to reassure him that he can survive on the surface of this planet and not fall into a deep need to retreat to the cellar…..hmmmm….

Have a great weekend! Alas, I have a few precious hours to myself on Saturday. I'm planning on baking up a storm for a dear person whose requested a few loaves of my "special" banana bread! Oh yes, finding time to be domestic these days has proven to be as elusive as Erik's memories! LOL!

**WriterMuseoftheNight**: My, my, we are full of questions…very good questions I might add, but alas, I shan't be answering them or I would entirely spoil your fun! By the time you read this, you will have answered the question for yourself in regard to further conversations between Erik and the old woman. It is a sad twist of fate that he'd come so close, but in the end he was able to be there for her, though he'd not understand the significance of that moment. Yes, Raoul's father is a living, walking, bag of hypocrisy isn't he? It is an odd psychological thing about us as humans…sometimes we despise most in others what is actually a weakness that we ourselves possess. If you think about that, you might find that is very true. In this case, I think it is very fitting for DeChagny is such a man. A spoiled, overzealous aristocrat with a past as dark and deep as it could probably be. And no, he's not terribly fond of Raoul's relationship with Meg…we'll hear more of this in coming chapters…. Thank you for the compliment. Though there are obvious elements of fantasy, I didn't want it to get too "out there" if you know what I mean! Have a wonderful weekend…and thank you…the muse continues to be my inspiration!

**PhantomFan13**: Thanks for keeping in touch. I do encourage you to take care of that homework. I'm reminded of one of my favorite Latin quotes (I do have many I'm afraid)

_**Homo doctvs is se semper divitias habet** - A learned man always has wealth within himself _ It is my favorite since I truly believe that whatever you put into your mind no one can steal. It is a wealth that can be accessed any time one wishes, and adds pleasure and depth to life that cannot be found any other way. So, yes, I am an advocate of homework, and the doing of it, for each morsel you put into that brain belongs entirely to you! Have a wonderful weekend!

**Christineluvserik**: Thank you for the welcome home. Yes, my assignment was productive in a sense that something that was wrong has been righted. Yes, we are all now eagerly awaiting his return to Christine…I can only imagine…he loves that woman doesn't he! Have a great weekend!

**Hopelesslyobsessed:** I am glad you are relieved…our beloved Erik is safe. Yes, the mother protecting her foal, it is something that you won't want to forget entirely. It's a little like foreshadowing, though not entirely. It gets one thinking about how protective mothers can be….hmmm…I'll say nothing more. I had to LOL when read that you are still wondering about that desk. I have to admit I'm getting a bit more curious about it each day, but Christine assures me I should be patient…Erik must have his reasons! LOL Have a great weekend!

**PhantomLover05**: The jitterbug? I haven't thought about those in so very long. Yes, swing dancing is a considerable amount of fun. I attended a wedding this summer where they had an 18 piece swing band. Not many of us knew how to swing, but it was great fun to watch those that did enjoy themselves! Best of times to you. No doubt between school and practices you will be one very busy little jitterbug! I am glad you are relieved, though right now you might be shaking your head and wondering why she was brought home only to die hours later….it all shall be explained…in good time. Have a wonderful weekend!


	136. The Promise of a New Day

**Chapter 135 The Promise of a New Day**

Madeline shook her head as she came into the parlor. DeChagny and Nadir had nearly emptied the bottle of brandy and made considerable headway in Raoul's humidor. It was certainly not her place to judge, nor was she. Though she was of a less amiable disposition over their behavior of the night previous. In their ardor, they had all but entirely defeated Raoul's purpose for requesting the remainder of the household servants to finish up the dishes sending her off to retire in her quarters early. Nadir and DeChagny had roiled themselves into hysterics on several occasions during their discourse, keeping Madeline from sleeping soundly; her room not being far off from the parlor.

She quickly tidied up the parlor returning once more to the kitchen. She'd a number of delicate la patisserie in the oven she'd return to. She rather preferred having ladies in the house. Raoul required so few delicacies, preferring the dense tortes and thick cooked puddings. Madame Giry and Meg on the other hand, enjoyed some of the finer things. Lace cookies, biscotti, delicate crepes, airy meringues. It pleased her to no end to see them enjoying such things. Today she'd make a soufflé le fromage for them when they rose. She'd no need to think of pleasing DeChagny nor Nadir, for certainly they'd be in no condition to join them for breakfast. She knew Raoul would be pleased with whatever she served as long as it pleased his guests. In this, and so many other ways, he was a true host. His mother would have been proud, Madeline thought as she made her way back to the kitchen.

XXXX

Outside Raoul's household was very busy indeed. They'd been clearing snow all evening long in an attempt to stay ahead of the storm. They'd quite a wide path now from the house to the stables, and had begun working on another area for the animals. The task had been long and tedious, with the snow as high as any of them could remember in their lifetime.

The air wasn't yet warm, though their toils kept them from having a chill. They were thankful the winds had died down. There was little else to do now but wait until it began to melt. They'd temporarily forgotten about the pine box that lay at the other end of their stables. Any that had been logical, would have grasped by now, their superstitions had proven to be folly. Save the storm that none could have predicted, none of their household had lost their lives, nor any animals, nor structures. In all they were very fortunate indeed.

They'd found and properly tended to the sleigh. They'd be ready should Raoul request its use. Word had already spread through the staff that his father had made mention of it the night previous. No doubt he'd have his way if the weather permitted.

XXXXXX

Pyotr and Sebastian lay with their heads down on the grain of the table. They'd fallen asleep somewhere between the pitchers of ale, and their early breakfast. Sheets of filled parchment lay here and there in the room, the door securely bolted lest anyone wander in and find them unaware.

They'd written a number of letters of delay that they'd send by messenger to their le concierge in Paris, he'd see to distributing them. They'd not have much time to reorganize once the snow cleared. Business was business, and it could not wait much longer. They'd devised and discarded numerous plots to encourage the family to move on, but in the end they'd abandoned every one. If this man was as he appeared, they'd do nothing but anchor him to his house if he'd even a hint of trouble.

Once the snow cleared, they'd dispatch the courier. Then they'd tend to the old farm house. Making room, and yet preserving the look of it being abandoned. Much to do, much to do. "No rest for the wicked," they'd chided one another in their drunken stupor.

XXXXXX

Madame Giry closed the door behind Madeline. She'd come to deliver a pot of Earl Grey and a fresh plate of anisette biscotti, dipped in grated nutmeg and ground hazelnuts. Madame Giry smiled as she retreated once more to the window seat.

The book lay abandoned on the cushion as she poured her first cup. The rising of the sun happened so quickly if one wasn't watching it. But when one had opportunity to do so from when the first shafts of light herald its coming, they could revel in its mystery, the glory of the birth of a new day. It was a miracle, that every day millions took for granted. It was a constant, a given. But to observe it, to drink it in as it quietly enters, shattering the hours of darkness that had come before it, was like witnessing the promise of God that a new day was beginning; an open invitation to make the best of it.

She smiled as she sipped the tea from her cup. The biscotti was a perfect blend of tender and crisp, nearly melting in her mouth. She'd had many baked goods in her lifetime, but there was something different about those she'd had as a guest in Raoul's home. Affluence provided opportunity for many things that the proletariat did not have privilege to partake of. The finest of ingredients, staff trained in the art of perfecting them...it was a pleasure she had come to appreciate, though she'd not allow herself to become desensitized to it. For once something became too familiar, the truest enjoyment and appreciation was lost. She knew for her, this was simply a brief reprieve from her normal life. Soon she would return to the Opera House, eating her portions in the dormitories. There the food was wholesome, adequate, but little more. She'd regard this time spent in Raoul's company as a retreat, to be enjoyed fully, and appreciated entirely from beginning to end.

As she poured a second cup of tea, and took the book once again in hand, she leaned her head against the polished wooden frame of the window. The day would be a peaceful one. The sky held promise of being blue, and with the sun rising, there was hope that all would be restored. She'd decided to spend the morning reading until someone retrieved her. She'd no want to hasten it, nor any of those who most decidedly needed the rest. Dear, sweet, Nadir. She smiled, glancing down at the note she'd written him. Maybe one day...maybe one day they'd find themselves in different circumstances.

XXXX

Christine woke, having been roused by a rather loud thud. She sat up rubbing at her eyes, glancing toward where she'd believed the noise to have come from. Misty glanced at her apologetically.

"Sorry mum, I knew the fire would be diminished by now, I'll just finish here, and be on my way." She glanced back at Christine and then returned to her task. "I do beg of you to forgive my clumsiness, to have woken you."

Christine started to stretch. She still felt tender from knee to breastbone. She'd never changed from the garments of Erik's that she'd worn the day before. She'd need to dress, she knew, though she'd have been content to stay in them until Erik returned to reclaim what was his.

"Do not let that cause you distress, do not worry. I was warm enough. Thank you." Christine sat on the edge of the bed as she watched Misty stacking the logs in the fire. She scowled just slightly as she watched. She could hear her father's voice in her head. "Cross it over to build a little house for the fire to live."

She slipped from the bed. No doubt of the many talents Misty possessed, stoking a fire had been one she'd not been properly instructed on. "Here, let me, I'd be happy to show you." She knelt next to Misty, taking the two smaller logs from her hand, and using the poker to reposition the others. "First this one, then that one in the back, then this one there, and last," she hoisted the final one in smiling at Misty.

The young girl smiled at Christine. "Mum, if you shan't mind my inquiring, where did you learn to do such a thing?"

Christine cocked her head off to the side in wonder, then quickly realized that neither Misty nor any of the others would have any knowledge of Christine's lineage, her past, or what circumstances she'd been in before coming to marry their master. She thought quickly. She'd no idea what Erik would have wanted, but decided to improvise. "A woman can never have too many talents can she?" The statement made Misty laugh, relaxing the tension just a bit.

The two stood looking at the fire as it began to take. Misty turned to Christine, "shall I draw you a bath mum?"

Christine stretched, then covered her mouth as she yawned. "Yes, I think that would be entirely lovely." Christine blushed as she heard her stomach growl.

Misty smiled. "Perhaps I'll see to some tea and a bit of breakfast for you first?" Christine smiled, "it seems that would be a good idea."

She glanced over at the little table over by the window. "If you'd not mind, I should like to take my tea here just this morning."

Misty nodded, "as you wish." The girl disappeared out of the door, and down the hall.

Christine strode over to the window seat, pulling Erik's robe up tightly around her. He'd be coming home today, victorious or no, and she would wait with eager anticipation as a child does at a window for their parents arrival. She'd run out into the snow on bare feet if she'd the need to. She simply wanted to feel his breath on her skin, the sound of his voice crooning in her ear, the touch of his hand on her shoulder. She missed him as lungs miss oxygen.

XXXX

Meg woke to find herself nestled neatly in her bed, pillows and blankets carefully tucked about her sides. She have thought she'd imagined that Raoul had stayed with her all the night, but she could see his boots discarded at the end of the divan in front of the fire.

She'd not remembered moving to the bed, in fact the last she'd remembered she was laying in Raoul's arms as he stroked her hair while they'd talked into the wee hours of the morning. She could not see him from her vantage point, reclined as she was. She was about to call out to him when the door to her room opened. Meg lay back down, feigning sleep.

Raoul was talking to someone, and it took but a moment to realize it must have been Madeline. "Do draw her a bath, but do not wake her unless she's not risen by nine, then do so gently won't you. Then do bring up a pot of that tea that she likes, and perhaps some of whatever it is that is the source of that glorious fragrance this morning." He strode with her to the wardrobe, going in.

Meg had to strain to hear, but she listened with careful attention.

"She rather fancies this lavender, though that shan't be warm enough for her today. Yes, that persimmon dress, it does have an accompanying...yes, yes, that shall do nicely. I want her to be warm, comfortable. Now, after our lunch, she shall have need for this, and perhaps, yes, this as well. Have those readied for her won't you?"

Meg had no idea what additional items, and in such quantity she'd be in need of. She smiled though, he had noted that she fancied the lavender dress, and also the persimmon. It was lovely, layered, long sleeves, very tastefully embellished. Meg closed her eyes again as she heard them retreat from the wardrobe. She pressed her eyes tightly as she heard what she knew were Raoul's footsteps, she'd begun to recognize them, especially how they sounded in her room.

He walked over to the side of the bed, leaning down and placing a tender kiss on her forehead. Madeline stood some feet away, awaiting his further instruction. "Maddie, do come here," Raoul whispered. Meg could hear as Madeline hesitantly came to Raoul's side. "Look just there," Raoul must have been pointing at something though Meg couldn't tell what it might have been. "Yes, it looks so much better this morning, you'd almost not be able to tell if it weren't for the thread and what looks like a scratch would you?"

Meg could hear Madeline inhale, "sir, pretty as bud of rose, sweet, sweet mademoiselle."

Meg felt Raoul brush another gentle kiss on her cheek before they moved to the door. "You'll see to all of it then?" Meg heard Raoul say to Madeline as he closed the door.

Meg glanced over at the small clock that lay on the table beside her bed. It was barely seven thirty. She'd not need to rise for another hour. She laid back down, just looking around the room. There were more fine things in this one room than she'd ever owned in her lifetime, nor had ever hoped to have in her wildest dreams. It still overwhelmed her that she was there, in Raoul's house, in this room, her mother in his house, Nadir...all of it...Six months ago she was but a unassuming chorus girl, and now...and now...She shook her head. She couldn't have imagined all that would happen if she had tried to.

She closed her eyes. She wondered what Christine would be doing at this very moment. If she was happily in Erik's arms at the winter house. What on earth would she have to fill her days? Really one could only read for so long before your eyes and mind grow weary. Regardless of what it was Christine filled her days with, Meg wished her only the highest degree of happiness, and hoped that one day soon that they'd be able to visit in person.

She yawned and stretched, sliding her limbs along the satin sheets. She raised her hand to her face, running her fingers lightly over the stitches. She'd become used to them in the few short days she'd had them. She'd been scrupulous about washing it carefully, and putting on the salve the doctor had given her. She was curious to look at it if Madeline and Raoul had noticed a change, she'd want to have a look.

Her curiosity had gotten the best of her. She simply had to know what it was that Raoul had wanted readied for her for after lunch. Meg slid ever-so-quietly from beneath the sheets and padded over to the closet door. Upon opening it she looked inside. She walked in a few steps, her mouth gaping.

There, on the divan in the center of the room was a long white fur coat, matching muff and fedora. Were they going somewhere? But in this weather, where pray tell? Meg thought she heard something in the hallway. Quickly scampering back to the bed, leaping beneath the sheets, pulling the covers up round her chin.

Madeline came in quietly carrying several large bath sheets, a basket of soaps and salts and made her way over to the water closet. Meg lay listening as Madeline began to fill the bath for her. She wandered back to the wardrobe retrieving a robe, and a pair of bedroom slippers. She went out closing the door behind her. That had been far too close. Perhaps she'd simply stay in bed until Madeline retrieved her.

XXXXXXX

Erik had stood watch, only letting the doctor passed when he approached to check on his patients. He'd only nodded at Erik. An examination was not necessary, he could tell by Erik's repose that he was doing quite well.

He had gone to the old woman, confirming for her daughter what they already knew. Erik had offered to be the one to take her by sleigh to the undertaker, but he'd been quickly discouraged. He had already risked enough, and was not himself yet entirely well. For now, the doctor would do what preparations he could do. As day broke and the weather held, they'd dispatch their stable hands to finish the task.

Erik watched carefully as Nicole led her mother up the stairs to some much needed privacy and rest. There was little to be done now, save what the doctor needed to do. Erik watched as the doctor and innkeeper loaded her onto a stretcher, covered her with blankets and took her out the door to the stables. Though he'd be tidy, the doctor had no want to do what he needed in the room so many took their dinner in. The stable was not inhospitable, quite actually the opposite, there were homes that were not as well appointed as the stables, perhaps that is why it was a preferred board for their horses when they were in Chauesser.

As they passed with the woman, Erik watched. Again his memory flashed. He'd never taken care of the disposal of a body that no longer had life, aside from Sara. The others that he'd bore witness to, were left for example or by request…he'd not had to deal with anything other than bringing them to their pointed end. He shuddered. Oh it was a welcome change to be among the living who had so much different a respect for human value…for the value of life. Those he'd encountered in Persia, those nefarious souls…were dead already, though they still had breath.

It wasn't until Erik was once again alone in the room that his attentions turned to himself. He sat down sighing. He'd need to find his clothes. He'd almost forgotten that it was a simple sheet that adorned his shoulders, and not the cape he was accustomed to donning. He looked around, and save his boots that rested at the end of the make-shift bed he'd occupied, he saw nothing. No cloak, nor clothing was in sight.

He stopped the first employ he'd seen requesting assistance, but she did not know. Erik sat back down, a bit irritated. He'd hoped the sled driver was still about, not having returned home himself. That would only further delay Erik's departure. Erik's irritation grew the longer he sat. Patience was a foreign animal to him, though he'd been trying to perfect it. He wanted nothing more now than to dress and return to Christine.

He stood, surely someone had to know where his belongings were. He began peeking his head inside of doors toward the back of the tavern. He'd found the root cellar, the silver closet, the pantry. It was not until he'd come to the last closed door that he had any hope at finding what he saught. Just as he touched the handle he heard a scuffle just beyond the door.

Erik startled the poor girl, she reeled back nearly toppling over the baskets behind her. "I'd not meant to give you a fright mademoiselle, I'm but looking for my garments." Erik said in a rather apologetic tone.

The girl was blushing heavily. She stammered, "No, no, sir…it's no trouble at all sir…" the girl averted her eyes. Erik's current garb, a singular sheet, wrapped about his shoulders, and a pair of oversized pants did not well conceal his masculine frame.

The last time she'd laid eyes on him, she'd caused herself much embarrassment. Talking to his young wife of his handsomeness at the mercantile. She and the collection of girls had spoken of him every day since first they'd seen him. Christine was as beautiful as she was pleasant, making it an easy match for them in their minds. Now, here he stood before her, in less than proper attire, and she nearly could not utter so much as one syllable. For there was quite simply something about him that nearly demanded silent awe.

Erik looked at her oddly, then down at himself. He couldn't imagine that he'd frightened her so intensely that she'd not even give him the courtesy of looking at him when he spoke to her. Surely she'd seen men in their night garb many a time, working at an inn as she did.

In truth, she couldn't look at him, he was someone else's husband. And her thoughts quite easily would betray her most scrupulous intentions.

"Mademoiselle?" Erik was a bit perturbed.

The girl scampered to the back of the room and disappeared behind yet another door with nary a reply. Erik could hear her speaking to someone whom he could not see. He was trying to be patient, but the longer they tarried, the more ill at ease he became. He'd considered heavily retreating to the outer rooms and simply waiting for the innkeeper to return.

Suddenly a woman came through the door, a bundle in her arms. She was a much older woman, likely enough so that she could have been the young girl's mother. "Here sir, we'd been asked to look after cleaning and drying them for you." She handed him a stack of still-warm garments. Erik took them thanking the woman. He turned to leave the room. She called out to him.

"Sir, I am sorry. The woman was a nuisance. Now to have lost her after such an altruistic feat." The woman stood shaking her head.

Erik stood looking at her in sheer horror. He'd not been addressed in this manner before. Inside he was seething…is that all this entire city thought of the old woman? He felt protective, defensive. The origin of those emotions for her were a mystery even to him as he stood there listening to this woman's chatterings.

"I should say you're something of a hero just for finding her, bringing her back to dear Nicole. She loved that woman greatly sir, you shan't know what this must have meant to that dear girl."

Erik cringed, he swallowed hard…that word…he hoped he'd not hear it again. He turned around. If only they knew…he was no one's hero. "Madame, if you'd permit me to speak freely.." she nodded, he continued. "This title you so flippantly allow to roll off your tongue…I am not worthy of. Hero is not a word I find befitting one who did only what one must do, what should be done. No…hero I am not. It is of little matter now, they've lost the woman to the depths, my contribution in bringing her this far was nothing more than anyone could have done. No, hero I am not, and it would be much to my pleasure if you'd not use that word again in my regard."

The woman looked horrified. She'd meant to compliment…thank him…she'd no thought that it would offend him. She simply nodded, lowering her head as he left the room.

The girl peeked her head from behind the door. "Mother?" She joined her mother folding clothes in the baskets on the floor.

"It seems our new young lothario is as humble as he is handsome." Her mother reached out tapping her daughter on her nose. "Now, we've much to do. No doubt all shall come looking for their garments."

Erik's heart was racing, his head was pounding. All he had on his mind now was dressing and leaving as soon as arrangements could be made.

He made his way back down the hall in a fervor, ducking into the first room that he found with the door ajar. He'd landed himself in the pantry. With the door shut, the room was dark, which suited him. He'd dressed so many times in the blackness of the lair, of Persia.

He'd no need to close his eyes, he could feel it, the memory creeping back in as he dressed with ease, hurriedly as one does as if preparing for flight from danger. It was a few minutes only before Erik had reaffixed his garments, his cloak draped over his arm. The clothing was a welcome warmth to his skin, they'd still been warm when she'd given them to him, no doubt having just come from the drying heat of the hearth.

Erik pulled the door open only to find the same girl just coming to the very door he was opening. Her hands flew up to her mouth and she turned around running back down the hall, disappearing into the room once more.

Instinctively Erik's hand flew up to his face, covering the right side…his respiration rising rapidly. He'd not thought of his face in a number of days, perhaps weeks now, and the trepidation on the girl's face reminded him of that horror. The words of the doctor sounding in his brain…. "keep it covered Erik, keep it dry, the skin is new, it needs to be treated with care." He'd done nothing but the opposite of this since he'd left home yesterday….

He was filled with an intense sense of urgency to find a looking glass, but where? He felt lightheaded…his chest ached causing him to cough, a deep, raspy sound coming from his lungs.

Erik pushed his way down the hallway feeling as though he were an animal trapped in a slaughterhouse labyrinth. His need, nay, his desperation grew… he needed to get away, get out, escape. He quickly found himself in the room where their beds had been. Someone in that short time had come and restored the room to its original arrangement. They'd be preparing soon for breakfast for those at the inn.

Erik's eyes hungrily scanned the walls. Then he spotted it, on the wall near the entrance. He made his way quickly to the glassy surface of the mirror that hung, beckoning him to allow it to reveal the truths that it held in its precarious balance.

He stood before it, holding his breath, eyes closed. This was likely to be as difficult as the first time he'd gazed on his altered flesh back at Courtland Manor, and suddenly he wished Christine was at his side, holding his hand, kissing him, reassuring him that she loved him no matter what came to pass.

He exhaled, moving the hand that covered his cheek. He inhaled, slowly opening his eyes, raising his chin, blinking once more before his eyes gazed upon his flesh. His heart raced…it wasn't what he'd expected, and inside his heart pounded.

**Author's Notes:**

**Captainoblivious**: Yes, a long weekend is wonderful. I hope to have one of those in a few weeks…oh who am I kidding…work never allows for it! Yes, our dear Erik. It seems just when he is about to get something that he needs, it is taken from him. But sometimes, we don't understand why things are delayed, put off, taken from us….it is not until much, much, later, that we see that things turned out the way they should have, and each thing that happened along the way had to happen, or we wouldn't have found ourselves in the place we needed to be in the end. Sort of convoluted I know, but I think you get the idea. Even the bad things that happen along the way, are all pieces in the puzzle that make up the fabric of our lives. Sometimes it's the seemingly bad things that shape us the most.

**PhantomsRogue:** Yes, so many possibilities indeed. The story spins in my mind, and I must say it is rather distracting. On-line collaborations can be interesting can they not? I rather imagine us being in the same room, looking a bit like DeChagny and Nadir, circling around the divans in front of a large fire, over a bottle of sherry saying "oh, and what if we…" and the other responding… "yes, but what if we then…", and yet the other saying, "oh my, yes, that will work…". Can you just see it? Anyway, it is a project that is swelling in my mind.

My sister said the funniest thing this past weekend. I wore an all black suit, which is my typical garb, but I had recently purchased a rather luxurious black turtleneck, had my hair pulled back, silver hoop earrings….she laughed at me over a cup of coffee in our favorite little coffee house. She said "you know, these last months have changed you, and today, you look like someone who I could actually see on the back cover of a book, pen in hand." The funny thing is, she's no idea that I've been writing this story!

I so look forward to this story…and to the story that we will be writing in the coming months…there is just something about it….it feels like fate has finally brought all of the odd bits of my life together so this can happen. I'm hoping that you can feel the same as our story takes flight.

On a lighter note, I did get my bread baked, and tonight I'll be delivering it to my friend. We are going to a German restaurant in the metro to celebrate Octoberfest! I've no doubt by this time tomorrow I'll be regretting the sauerkraut and cider beer…but the one good thing is that they have a walnut torte, and a black forest cake for dessert! Oh my, I am making myself hungry!

**WriterMuseoftheNight**: Your mind is always working isn't it? Yes, it was the grandmother's appointed time, though it was sad for all parties concerned, there was something very poignant about her death. Erik was able to be there, and to watch the humanity of the process in a way he'd never done before. Yes, I could imagine the intensity of his thoughts when he looked back and forth between the mother and daughter…wondering what that love must be like. For as an intelligent a man as he is, there are things that have simply been beyond his experience…the simple things that we take for granted everyday. Sometimes I look at people and have more empathy for them that what others think I should….but I try to keep in mind…what has their life experiences taught them…..has anyone ever exposed them to something different so that they should have responded any different than what they have? It's difficult to explain, but my mind seems to work that way. We are all just a bundle of experiences, and no one, no matter how learned or experienced, has walked in every different experience. I think that is why Erik in our story has been so much time learning about "life" because there is so very much I can imagine that he did not know.

As to Nadir and Madame Giry….only time and fate will tell if the two are ever to have an opportunity to be together. Though we know all too well that they've a desire to do so! That is often the burden of those who are relied on by so many…they sacrifice their own lives just to be a conduit for the lives of others. They recognize their importance in the circle of family and friends, and see it as their duty to keep everything together. We shall see my dear….we shall see….

As for the other things…I cannot tell you what I've up my sleeve…but you might be on to something. LOL!

Oh, oh….stop my beating heart…..is Erik sending a ribbon adorned rose my way? I think I shall faint…..

**Tex110**: No hair curling for our beloved Erik! He has far too handsome a face now to have his hair be a distraction! Similarities I was thinking more along the lines of parallels, polarizing opposites of sorts that showed that their differences were really their similarities in strength, conviction, preferences, though different, showing an intense core set of values. Hmmmmm…I know what I want to say…though I'm having a bit of trouble putting it into words. They are not at all the same…but they share something intangible. Both loveable in their own ways….and to different women!

**PhantomLover05**: Thank you for the confidence. I shall hope to not disappoint you! I hope to redeem myself in the coming chapters. No death, no life, no person comes to this story without a purpose, though sometimes they are but a means to an end.

**Batteredchild**: Thank you for the compliment. It was a difficult chapter to write knowing that I would be depriving Erik of the one link to his past that he was so close to. What are the odds? He needed to be there, to see this, to be part of it…there is something redeeming about it…though we won't know until much later…..

**Draegon-fire**: Perhaps I shall dig up some of them for you! Though I must warn you, you might think I'm even more crazy than you do now!

Yes, the reviewers in our Phamily are all very clever indeed! Just when I think I've been mysterious enough….someone figures me out! LOL! I do worry about so many things about what Erik will say when and if Meg and Nadir reveal things to him. I do think that Erik might be a bit tolerant of Nadir keeping that photograph from him until he was sure…I think he'd see the prudence in that…although I think it might freak him out a bit. The one thing I do know about our dearest Erik is that no matter how well adjusted he is beginning to seem…there is so much of his life he's not dealt with…it could be very difficult for him….can you imagine finding out something like that? Yikes!

**Diveprincess**: How are you my dear? It is good to hear from you. I am glad you liked chapter 134. I can only imagine what Erik was thinking during those moments. In recent weeks he's witnessed two deaths, both women he'd come to care about…both that held different keys to his past….though I think each little step brought him closer to where he needs to be. I think it speaks to some of Erik's humanness. He wants to be the rescuer of all things…first of Meg and Nadir at the winter house, and then the old woman in Chauesser. He is finding out that he cannot, does not have control over fate…and that is a difficult thing for him to comprehend. In all other cases where he's had interactions with the human race, he was able to be in control…in Persia….at the Opera House….I think these most recent experiences will help him reconcile his past, and to come to terms with things that are to come in the future…..

I have been doing very well…thank you for asking. I do miss the conversations I have with members of our Phamily…though sometimes time does not permit for all I'd like to say. All of you have become rather near and dear to my heart.

Do keep in touch my dear…we miss and worry about all the members of our little Phamily! I hope school is going well for you, and that your legs have healed and aren't causing you any difficulty!


	137. Different Cloaks of Heroism

**136 Different Cloaks of Heroism**

There was a sharp rap on the door. She knew it shan't be Madeline, as her normal course, she came and went only with a slight knock. This was different, from a much heavier hand. Madame Giry went to it, opening it slightly. There, standing outside, was Raoul. He looked tired, but an odd sense of calm and happiness was held in his presence.

"Madame Giry, good morning. I'd no want to disturb your slumber, but Madeline made mention that you'd risen for the day and were having your tea."

She looked down, Raoul himself had a cup in hand. She smiled, opening the door a bit further. "Do come in Raoul, please join me," she said motioning to the chairs by the window.

Raoul smiled coming in to sit with her. Madame Giry noticed that Raoul was dressed in a robe, and not fully ready for the day himself. That gave her some comfort as she at present found herself in similar circumstances.

Madame Giry smiled offering to freshen Raoul's cup, he politely declined. He'd already mixed his to just the right proportions. "Raoul?" Madame Giry said with curious eyes.

He smiled at her taking a sip from his cup, returning it to its saucer on the table. "I've come to inquire if you'd like to join Meg and I later this morning."

Madame Giry smiled. No doubt Raoul had yet another game he'd like to play, or perhaps he'd do some reading. Either choice had pleasurable possibilities. She replied, "why yes, I think I should like it very much."

Raoul returned her acceptance with a smile of his own. "Then you'd not mind if I take the liberty of borrowing a few things for your comfort, a pelisse perhaps? I dare say though the sun shines, and the wind has subsided, it is not yet a comfortable temperature out of doors."

Madame Giry's brow raised just slightly as she took a sip from her cup. "And just what endeavor did you have in mind that involves venturing outside?"

Raoul smiled at her, it was apparent that she'd not seen any of the scurrying about of his staff in the courtyard. "I shan't want to distress you, but if you'd give me the liberty of a surprise, I should like very much for you and Meg to join me at eleven o'clock. I've made all the arrangements."

Raoul stood, looking down at Madame Giry. "I've a bit to do this morning, but I should like very much to know that we can depend on your company?"

Madame Giry nodded. "It shall be as you wish." She smiled at him as he departed through the door into the hallway. Madame Giry had no idea what Raoul might be planning, but judging by the glint in his eye, it was no doubt something that he felt would please them all.

XXXX

Raoul went to his room, closing the door behind him. He had to admit he felt a bit lighter on his feet. The last time he could remember being out in the snow as such, had been the last winter that his mother was alive. It was a pleasant collection of memories he'd visited often during his life.

He'd spent so much time making arrangements for their outing he'd forgotten to inquire about his own. "Now let me see." Raoul walked to his wardrobe, mind set on task. He'd not noticed he was not alone in the room. There, sitting, watching….was a man. Serious jaw set, so much at stake, so much to set straight, and he'd not be leaving the room until he was satisfied.

XXXXX

Christine had finished the tea and plate of soft eggs and dry toast that Misty had brought for her. She'd sent Misty for a bit of fruit, an apple perhaps would settle her stomach. Though she'd eaten, there was a sour feeling in the pit of it that she couldn't seem to quite get rid of.

The bath was drawing as she sat staring out the window. None had come to the front of the house to disturb the pristine beauty of the snow and the wildlife that now scampered about freely on the firm crust of it. The animals had returned from their hiding, a sure sign that the storm was over, and the recovery from it would was already beginning. Though the sky was still a bit overcast, glints of sun peeked through from time to time, giving one hope that it would clear by mid-day.

Christine had her legs pulled up beneath her chin, Erik's robe wrapped protectively about her. She closed her eyes. She could almost feel his presence, his aura. It was both a comfort and agony.

As the clock struck nine she could hear each chime, moving slowly from bell to bell. It had been perfectly crafted. Each chime a harmonious blend, leading fluidly to the next chime with both pause and continuity. In one singular moment it brought to mind the two most important men in her life; her husband and her father.

Her father had taught her so much about life through music. It was a universal language he'd told her. No words needed to add to the music for it spoke directly to the heart. The clock he'd commissioned had no doubt been constructed to his exacting specifications, each chimed note a perfect compliment to the next. He would truly have been pleased.

Her mind wandered to Erik. He'd found this clock…no…she wasn't entirely sure that the clock had not found them. It's perfection impressed even Erik. They'd stood in front of it several times simply listening to each chime…it had been like having her father there with them.

As the clock struck its last cord Christine could see him in her minds eyes. Standing in front of something, something…it appeared there were two of him, no….it was his reflection. He was crying. And then it was gone.

Christine stood walking toward the water closet. She didn't know what to make of all the strange thoughts she'd had since Erik had been gone. She'd been able to ignore so many thoughts, but this one hurt her deeply. If he was cheerless, if he was crying, she'd want to be at his side. She lowered her head, "Lord, if this prayer should find Erik in need of comfort, I implore you to be where I cannot be, to love as I cannot love, to give him strength Lord." She lifted her head. She'd see to a bath, and her fruit. She could do little more for him now.

XXXXX

Meg waited until she heard no further stirrings in the hallway. She slipped silently from the bed, making her way to her wardrobe once more. This time she pulled the doors slightly closed. If she were inadvertently discovered, she could claim ignorance. She ran her hand along the white fur coat. Such things she'd never seen up close, let alone have touched. She'd seen many feathered, assorted things trimmed in fir, for they were a regular part of the Opera House, but this…she'd never beheld such a thing in her life.

The fedora and muff were lined with the softest velvet that Meg had ever held against her skin. She could hardly imagine wearing such finery, but really she'd no choice. To resist or refuse would be to deny Raoul the pleasure of giving it to her, and she knew that there was much pleasure for the giver. She ran her hand along it, turning to look at the persimmon dress that Raoul had suggested. Yes it would be a bit warmer, though it should hardly matter under such a fine coat. She'd be as warm as she'd ever been in her life. She closed her eyes.

She'd have to become accustomed to this, not be taken back by it. If she were truly to live out her days with Raoul, this would be a regular occurrence. She shook her head, a pained expression shattering her happiness. Maybe one day, just one day, she'd not let that thought push into her head…. "it should have been Christine's." Memory by memory, thought by thought, it was stealing the joy that she should have been reveling in. She was coming to despise it, it was but a sour taste in her mouth, and she wished it could be spat out.

XXXXX

Erik looked at his face, running his hand along the edge of his skin. It was red, and chapped, but equally on both sides. The lines were deep around his eyes, and his forehead, showing he'd a few years of life behind him. He recognized this look about skin that had suffered much exposure to wind and frigid chills. He leaned in closely, his eyes were blood red, no doubt from the incredible tired he felt. His heart began to slow, inwardly he was relieved, he'd thought it to be much worse. This…this was nothing more than any man would have suffered at the hands of mother nature. He furrowed his brow. What had frightened the girl so? Was it possible that even without intention he instilled trepidation? He shook his head.

There were things about women that he would not ever understand. The many conversations of men he'd overheard at the Opera House gave him the reassurance that it was not simply something that he suffered with. Many a man had professed that though they knew their wives, they never had really come to understand them. His Christine was the exception. Perhaps it was having grown up with her father, and then having been shaped by Erik, she had somehow become more open, more free to speak her mind. He didn't know. His thoughts wandered to his Christine….he simply wanted nothing more than to be home and in her arms. Nothing. Suddenly he was tired again. He needed to rest.

Erik sat fully clothed now out on the bench in the hall. The doctor had not returned, nor had the innkeeper, and by the account of the only young man he could find, the three of them had taken the old woman to the stable and had remained there with her.

He raised his had to his face once more. Tears of relief had flowed, though he'd felt selfish at their arrival. He'd been worried for his flesh, and a woman lay dead from the exposure. How pitifully wretched for him to have been concerned but for himself. The new flesh seemed to have faired better than the old, the opposite of what he'd expected. He closed his eyes. He was so tired. A small cough rose from his lungs, no doubt his penance for making them suffer so in the weather as he did.

A young woman had come out offering Erik a cup of stiff black coffee, which he took gratefully. The moisture from the steam that rose from the cup as he blew on it, was welcome to his parched skin. He now sat alone in the room; silence being his only companion. Just now, that is what he preferred. He'd not had a true bit of solitude in days, and in an odd way he craved it, much like a injured lion retreats alone to his den to lick his wounds.

He could hear men chattering in the other room. Rather quietly at first, but now having seen the maids carrying out the breakfast dishes, the conversation became a bit more lively, and growing ever louder. He could make out only fragments of sentences.

"He should be honored, a special ceremony…." Said one man. "Yes, perhaps at the town celebration, that would seem fitting." Said a second. The general conversation traveled in various version of agreement of the same sentiment.

Erik furrowed his brow, leaning over just a bit trying to listen…who were they talking about? His heart raced as he listened….he'd pray not that they'd be speaking of him.

Yet another man said, "we should send a post, though it likely shan't be necessary, she seems to know the goings on here…..this is the sort of thing she'd be most proud of….yes, just the sort of thing indeed."

Erik was dumfounded, who was this "she" they so intently referred to? Just then something wrenched in his gut, what had that man said? He leaned straining further as another man asked the first to repeat himself.

"What is that good sir?"

"A hero, yes certainly the woman died, but he'd more courage than you Francois, or you Javier, or even you Louis…not one of us had it within us to save her, and this stranger, this newcomer to our village, he's displayed more courage than the lot of us." There was a long pause.

Erik bristled, that word again, hero…..if only they knew. It was the man's final conclusion that set into motions events that Erik would long regret after the sun set on the day.

The man uttered, "yes she was a lunatic and some of us shan't have cared if she'd frozen in the banks of the snow. She'd have done her family a favor even. I dare say it's the courage of the man we'd be honoring, not who he'd rescued, no matter how pitiful little value the woman's life was worth." The men were stating words of agreement when Erik came round the corner with great little countenance.

There he stood, his eyes fixed and burning. His very presence caused a hush to fall on them. Several foolish men had begun to clap, but their exuberance retreated quickly when they saw that Erik was not the least bit humbled nor amused. The glare in his eye told them he was angry, and little did they know the rage that boiled beneath the surface of this soul.

Erik's voice boomed, "what know you of life? Of the value of life?" He looked around the room. Most gazed at him in horror. "Have you read of John Locke, of David Hume, their theories of life, of the human condition?"

Erik began to walk among the men, his eyes fixed, his voice steady and toned with indignation. "What right have you to value one life with more weight than another? Whatever has breath, has meaning, has value." The veins in his neck bulged, he could feel his temper rising, he'd gone beyond recall.

"In this city with no lack of feckless nebbishes, you fool yourselves into believing a pedigree somehow entitles one to pass judgment on another. There is a paucity of good and compassionate souls that might come to the aid of another just for the sake of the value of that life, no matter how intrinsic it might seem."

Erik's voice swelled, "You quibble over matters of felicitating one who does not require it, nor has any desire to receive such genuflection. Chauesser is not in need of pompous fops, off-scourings, or of ne'er do-wells, but in need of men and women of prudence and lacking in arrogant subjugation, who are but willing to exact compassion wherever it is required of them."

Erik's eyes were wide and wild, his stature as tall and looming as it had ever been. "Pray do tell, all of this pomp and circumstance on display as if you were living a refined and civilized life is but a façade for ineffectual souls? A mere shadow of a city full of citizens content to bask in the glow, but not roll a sleeve, nor lift an arm to aid another?"

Erik paced impatiently back and forth among them. "Now, because of this lazy abandon you have want to exalt a man who does nothing more than exercise freely his moral conscience?" The room was silent. "No, no, good sirs, do not confuse yourselves! There is no hero standing among you today…I am but a man…a man who did what he ought, when it was needed, and nothing more."

Erik hadn't noticed, but the doctor, innkeeper, and sled driver had joined the flock of speechless men on the fringes. There was no comment, no rebuffing, nor rebuttal. They'd received their chastising, and any criticism of the dialogue made by this stranger, would be made long after he'd left.

Erik looked at the sled driver. His heart was pounding. He'd wished to bid Nicole and her mother adieu, but now he'd want for nothing more than to leave this place, returning to his Christine, the safe harbor of her arms.

Erik exhaled, grasping the edges of his cloak. His last statement settled upon them with heavy impression. "Good men who tarry allow evil to triumph. Gentlemen, do ask yourselves…what sort of man does this knowledge find you this morning?" With that Erik whirled his cloak with a flourish, and walked out from amongst them making his way toward the back of the inn and out the door, the sled driver following closely behind.

There were no words exchanged as Erik stood waiting for the sled and dogs to be readied. He'd calm himself, learning to breathe in and out, in and out, slowly. He watched the light that glowed off to the left in the back room. He knew that is where she was. His eyes temporarily filling with tears.

He cried for her loss….for his bitter disappointment in the people he'd always envied. They lived the life that he'd thought he'd wanted…but what a putrid existence to live for oneself and oneself alone, neither care nor compassion for another? Was this the embodiment of living in this world? He'd have none of it, not in his household. He'd a horrid taste in his mouth from the thought of it.

Erik looked up as he heard the sled driver click his tongue. He and the dogs were ready. Erik sighed, pulling his cloak about him as he started toward the sled. He felt a hand on his shoulder, this time turning to look before he took the wrist by force.

There she stood before him, her eyes fully red, her cheeks wet with tears, her lips puffy, her faced drained. Standing on the tips of her toes, she placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, whispering in his ear. "Thank you sir." She stood looking into his eyes for a brief, intense, moment, and then she was gone.

Erik turned, his lips quivering….that was his reward, the relief in the young girl's eyes. He'd done what he could, and she knew it…and was grateful…that was all the reward he needed. The men in the inn had it wholly wrong…they did not understand the human condition, and to Erik, that was the saddest loss of all.

Erik climbed on the back of the sled, never looking back at the inn. He leaned in looking at the team of dogs that now pulled them. The injured dog from the previous day rode in the seat in front of him.

The sled driver caught the look of confusion on Erik's face. "It's for the benefit of the dogs sir. If he's not here, they'd push him out of the team. As long as they can smell him, see him, he's not dead to them, and in time, they'll allow him back in the line. It's for their morale," he reached down scratching the dog behind the ears, "and for him. He'd die a little bit each day if he wasn't out here with us."

The man smiled sincerely at Erik, "just because something is damaged, doesn't mean it's lost." The man glanced down at Erik once more before he turned whistling to the dogs. They stood at attention. They were ready…and so was Erik. He was ready to return home…to Christine…for to him, she was home.

**Author's Notes:**

**Dear Faithfuls**: I would once again like to thank you for all of your wonderful comments and encouraging words that you offer. It always humbles me to know that you are still out there reading the story, and allowing a dream to come true for me. I could not do this without you!

**Captainoblivious**: Sorry for the cliffe…it was not meant to be evil…but hey, at least it wasn't over a weekend! LOL! Darn, just when I'd thought you'd left all your toys at home, you whip out that Pauly Shore gun! I tell you, I think Erik is drawing his saber…yikes….yes, I am certain he's in such a foul mood after his ordeal at the inn that he might be looking to exercise his saber waving skills! Swoosh yep, I'm pretty certain that he… Swoosh is out for a little exercise…Swoosh, anyway, before I become Swiss cheese… Swoosh, I'm going to talk about something else. SWOOSH, SWOOSH…" everybody run! OK, OK, I confess, too much caffeine today!

Yes, perhaps this chapter is a bit better, and I wish I could have been a mouse in the corner watching as Erik scared those men half to death with his verbal lashing. No doubt some of his vocabulary had them wondering if they were being insulted or praised, but he'd pay them no mind. He was angry, there was no mistaking that! Can you imagine being that close to him when he dressed in his cloak, his eyes blood-shot, and his voice booming! Yikes, I nearly scared myself!

**PhantomsRogue**: Do not underestimate being able to write something "substantial" on your own. You might just surprise yourself! Yes, I do think the collaboration will be good, but please no carrousels… the thought of it makes me dizzy, and there is never a possibility that you can actually meet! LOL! Change of heart about our dear little impressionable Meg? Hmmmm…I shall look forward to hearing from you.

Sounds like you baked up a storm! I could not have that much in my house, or I'd end up with carbo overload! I love it so, but it does not love my waistline! LOL! I was able to deliver my two loaves of banana bread last evening when I met with my friends at the German restaurant we went to for celebrating Octoberfest. She was very pleased, though my other friend was having bread envy, so now I shall have to go back to the kitchen once again and bake something to mail to her. Oh what a terrible friend…I should have just baked an extra loaf for her in the first place! Last night we had a good meal, beautiful presentation, the taste was hmmm, lacking. I had sugar pumpkin soup (served in an actual small pumpkin!) and a chilled beet salad…not too much flavor…what a pity because it had such potential to be GREAT. Without the café and carrot cake at the end, I'd have been disappointed. But truly, I should have been the most thankful to see my friends, the food was secondary! It was fun when we first arrived we sat outside in this sort of ivy grotto, and since it was cold they had several fancy heaters outside. So we sat there enjoying our flight of German beers, listening to the trickle of the waterfall, in the lighted atrium. Rather fun I thought. I think Erik and Christine would rather have enjoyed it! LOL. Somehow when I find myself in an enjoyable place my mind always seems to wander to how I think this couple would have liked it….ahhh yes….my obsession is so deeply ingrained in my brain!

Look forward to hearing from you!

**WriterMuseoftheNight**: I laughed out loud when I read… "I've been asked if it is hell living in my mind." I think I shall use that line this very weekend….I've got just the person to ask that question! Yes, a creative, inquisitive mind can be torture, but thank God for them! If we shan't have inquisitive minds, we'd not have electricity, nor the vaccine for polio, nor have discovered radium, nor have the lovely internet that so wonderfully connects all of our Phamily even now! So, to those that pose that question, just give them an arrogant "hmmmp" for a reply…I love this Latin quote…** Parva leves capiunt animas** - _Small things occupy light minds _ Long live the inquisitive mind!

Glad you caught the meaning of what was going on with the girl in inn….we can likely all recall when we've come face to face with someone that we've admired from afar, especially unexpectedly…we want to melt into the pavement…no doubt what I would do if I met our dear Erik! LOL. She wasn't so much flirting as she was going… "oh my, oh my…" because she did realize he was married, and tried to avert her eyes, though I'm sure she didn't want to…. you? LOL! Yes, as much as we've seen Erik progress, he still has a ways to go. Much to learn. Though certain things, as evidenced from this most recent chapter, he understands perfectly well. Though he'll have to learn to control his temper…though temperamental people tend to be passionate people, so he might not be able to change…

As for Meg, desiring to visit Christine…I can only imagine. To have a friend, nay, a sister that you'd spent so much time with, that had been your confidante, so far away…and to have the knowledge that you might never be able to stay in touch, and that the decisions you are about to make will impact your lives together forever…Yes, I can imagine she simply wants to be near Christine just to talk to her, at least once more before she decides.

Ah yes, I like the term illegal storage….and yes, our beloved Erik would be furious! Can you imagine the vengeance? I'd pity the pair of them, if I didn't loath them so! LOL!

**Tex110:** Sorry, (I seem to be apologizing a considerable amount today!) about the cliffie. I know it seems cruel, but I couldn't make it a 15 page chapter. Thank you for complimenting the couples. I think they are a perfect match for one another. Erik and Christine are both deep and passionate, lovers of all things musical, indeed they share a very intangible connection because of it. Raoul needs to be needed, and Meg needs so much…a good match there I think. I hope that they all can be happy….hmmm….

Darn, you had to mention "glaze"…now I'm hungry for donuts! LOL!

**Phantomfan13**: Sounds like you "gobbled" up quite a bit of turkey this weekend….sorry …I couldn't help myself! Long weekends are absolutely wonderful aren't they though! The only down side is that when we relax we can actually see how crazy our every-day life really is and that makes us realize how fast life is flying by us! I do love time-off, but it always makes me sad…sometimes its just better if I work, work, work!

No, I could not take away Erik's handsomeness, though he will have to do a bit of healing to get better. Have you ever had frostbite and windburn? I have and let me tell you, it is not at all a pleasant thing to recover from…yikes…poor Erik!

Now, no "poo" for school. You've got to feed that hungry mind of yours!

**Batteredchild**: Christine's anticipation is growing…oh I can just imagine how she feels. If I had that coming home to me….well…I'd be doing somersaults! I like that she's prepared something for him with her hands, and that she's written him a note. She cannot "give" him anything in the house that is not already his. What she can do is create things to give to him…..I think he'd prefer that anyway don't you?

**MeowLeFae**: Good to hear from you my dear! Ten hour days…I can empathize with you…it makes one very tired doesn't it? I'm glad to hear though that you are still able to find time to keep up with our story, and our Phamily! Yes, Erik is a curious one isn't he? The books will prove to be an integral part of the story I'm sure… Take care, and do drop us a line now and then and let us know how you are doing!

**ElvieIII**: A Roman Holiday….hey…wasn't that a movie! LOL! Oh how very wonderful for you…the rest of the Phamily is green with envy! Didn't mean to leave you on a tether… yes, I think a Christine and Erik reunion is soon on the horizon….. He's got to recuperate from all that cold….hmmm…. LOL! Anyway, welcome back. If you've a bit of time, and want to share…what was the best thing you saw in Rome?


	138. Enough

Chapter 137 Enough 

Christine had been luxuriating in the bath that Misty had drawn. "Not too warm," she'd heard the doctor's words in her ears, telling Misty she preferred something just above tepid when her stomach pained her. Given the morning she'd had, Misty hadn't questioned it. Christine listened to the slow methodical pitch of a pair of shovels. They'd be clearing a path from the stable to the house no doubt. She stretched one last time, and then allowed herself to slide below the depth of the water.

Christine held her breath, slipping below the surface of the water, running her fingers through her hair, rinsing from it the cream she'd worked in. This was a trick she'd learned from Madame Giry. She'd been blessed with an abundant head of curls that had quite the mind of their own if they weren't tamed.

Then, she did something she'd not done since she was a wee girl in the company of her governess. She'd observed, quite by accident, that she could hear music so differently whilst she was beneath the water. It had become a game she'd dabble in whenever she'd bathe. Her father would sit off in the next room playing his violin as she would take her bath. Just before finishing she'd whistle and her father would begin to play that old favorite lullaby as Christine would slip beneath the water, humming the song in her head. She found herself going through the motions now, though much older, she'd enjoy it still.

She thrust her feet against the end of the basin, pushing her head up through the water, emerging as a great mermaid she'd read of in Scottish tales. She smiled at her own folly; it was such a childish amusement. She wiped the water from her eyes, pulling the great length of her curls into a woven rope behind her head. She'd not noticed, but there was evidence that Misty had come and gone, for there on the chair was a fresh robe and towel, and a fresh cup of ginger tea.

She smiled a bit sheepishly as she stood pulling her hair up behind her, slipping into the comfort of the items provided her. There was a small note sitting beside her cup, just a few short words.

"I've taken the liberty of putting your strudel in to bake mum. No doubt he'll be home soon." Misty.

Christine smiled, saying in a breathy voice, "he'll be home soon." She sighed, those simple words were like a heavenly symphony to her ears…home soon. She pulled the sash of the robe tightly about her waist. She'd best see to being ready for him. She'd no care how long it took, she'd sit by the window all day if that was what was required of her.

She busied herself looking through the wardrobe, selecting something warm yet feminine, delicate but suitable. Yes, it would be the deep scarlet….Erik loved scarlet, and in truth she'd been told by many a young woman that it did nothing but increase her beauty whenever she wore it.

Christine smiled, going about the room tending to this and that. Misty had come in to freshen the tea, and bring her the apple she'd requested. Christine had thanked her properly for tending to the strudel, and for her assistance in putting on her garments. A corset, a bit larger one than her others had been chosen. She knew Erik might object, but the dress required it. She'd asked Misty not to tie it too tightly, and she'd complied without question.

Christine was once again alone in the room, sitting down before the vanity. She'd dipped a bit of rouge on a horse-hair brush and dusted her cheek bones. It gave her a bit of color. A potted lip color added a perk to her lips. She smiled at herself. Her hair was the last thing to be tended to and then she would be ready. "Ready," she said to herself…

XXXXX

Meg had waited for Madeline to come in bringing a pot of tea, pretending to be woken by the light, and the sounds of the men chopping away at the ice outside. Madeline had seen to a bit of pastry and coffee for Meg this morning as Meg enjoyed her bath.

"Not nine yet, Raoul not ready, you enjoy, no hurry." She smiled at Meg as she closed the door to the water closet.

Meg smiled as she turned around looking at the room as it glowed. Madeline had lit a number of scented candles. Meg looked at the crystal tray that was full of new bottles of all the finest lotions and dressings. She'd never seen so many except in a merchant's window…one she'd pass wondering what it would be like to have but one of them. Now she'd have all she desired at her disposal. She dipped her foot into the water. It was hot, but no so much so that she shan't want to climb in.

She hissed just slightly as she came to rest at the bottom of the tub. It was hot, but a wonderful delight to her skin. Madeline had been careful to add nothing but what the doctor had instructed. Though her wounds were healing very nicely, he'd wanted her to care for them so as to keep the scars as faint as possible.

Her mind traveled to the doctor. She wondered where he might be, and if now he'd be able to make his way to see her. She wanted to tell him that she'd not had need to take the medicine in several days, and she'd been free of the nightmares for two nights in a row, a good sign she'd thought. Though it worried her a bit…what would mornings be like if she woke and was not in Raoul's arms? Would she have slept without waking if he'd not been there with her? She'd not know the answer to that question, nor was she eager to find out.

Thus far, Raoul had been content to hold her until she fell asleep, and the to stay watching over her. Yes, perhaps in the eyes of some that would be considered most improper, but she and Raoul knew of the goings on, more specifically of what did not go on, and that was far more important.

Meg allowed herself to sink even further into the water. Her mind traveled to the conversation they'd had the night before. It had been open, honest, and so very real. Raoul would not push, she would not pry. She'd go to visit Elizabeth when her mother went to the Opera House, returning only when she was ready. It was a perfect plan.

She smiled. It would give her opportunity to be freely with Erik and Christine…to see Erik awake, moving….loving her sister. It would give Nadir time to do his research…to find out what if any connection there truly was. He'd be able to come and go freely between Paris and Chauesser and none would be any the wiser, thinking it to be necessary. Yes, this would do nicely. She'd have time to think without pressure…to be certain she could make this choice, make this change, breaking away from all she knew. For she and Nadir had not decided if they did discover the lineage was as they suspected, what they would do with the knowledge. It would have the power to bless or destroy, and its outcome would be far too unpredictable.

Meg's smile had turned to a blank stare. What if it were true? She'd thought about the idea a thousand times, but now, in the quiet of the room her mind focused on it with a drilling sense of importance. There were far too many possible complications…it would be difficult, but then again, the truth often is.

Meg would finish the bath and then set about dressing in the persimmon dress. She had no idea what it was that Raoul had planned, but she'd come to trust him. His game of the evening passed seemed to have gone well. She'd no doubt that whatever he'd planned it would be most enjoyable.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Raoul startled as he turned around. The pair of eyes that rested on his breastbone were intent on having their way. "What is it…I'd thought you'd gone to bed after staying up all night." Raoul said to his father as he walked passed him, removing his robe.

His father let out a deep disgusted sigh. "Raoul, do you know how Monsieur Meiller's wife found out of his infidelity, or how Comte de Lagrange's mathematical theories were leaked to his contemporaries, or how LeMason was found to have been receiving visitors from Russia?" His father's eyes were wide.

"Father, whatever does this have to do with our current situation?" Raoul said as he passed him. He listened as his father huffed once more.

Raoul was both irritated by, and tired of, his father's constant analogies. If he'd something to say, he wished he'd just come out with it. But he knew full well the questions would continue until he replied. "Do tell father, how is it that this was done."

His father followed Raoul into his wardrobe. "Their servants. Their servants betrayed them. Those they thought to be most trusted in the end had betrayed them." His father said, now following Raoul as he carried the garments he'd selected to his bed, laying them out.

"To what point is all of this leading father?" Raoul said glancing up at him after straightening the garments in preparation.

His father was more than happy to oblige. "You think your staff to be worthy, careful, discrete, but in truth, you know this knowledge shan't have escaped them."

Raoul walked passed his father, retrieving his shaving mug and blade. "Noticed what father?" Raoul knew where this was leading, but he'd make his father say it….say it out loud so he could hear how ridiculous it sounded.

His father rose, being some inches taller than Raoul he'd always used this to his advantage, though today Raoul was having none of it. His father walked beside Raoul as he shaved. He started his discourse, "your comings and goings at all hours of the night, the fact that your bed remains unused night after night, the laughter into the wee hours of the morning that come from behind Meg's closed door." Raoul's father stood shaking his head disapprovingly at Raoul. "You are not married, you are not betrothed, though even that would not permit such behavior."

Raoul glared at his father, then returned to his shaving, dipping the blade in the water swishing it about and raising it once again to his cheek. "A discrete interlude, a few impassioned meetings in private, those may be overlooked or dismissed out of hand, but this…you traipse her about as though she was already your wife, and the rest of us had missed the opportunity of your wedding!"

Raoul laid down his blade on the sink, leaning heavily on it, his shoulders slouched, his head hung but steady. "Enough," he said in a low tone.

His father not paying any mind to Raoul's obvious posture continued, "if your mother were alive she'd be mortified by your obliviously egregious behavior, to trot about with a young woman as such…." DeChagny's words were cut short.

Raoul stood erect, spinning himself round to face his father. The vein in his neck bulged, his eyes in a painful sliver, "ENOUGH! Far too long I've allowed you to bully me, to belittle me, to pass judgment, when you yourself have not lived a life un-blotted by indiscretion, nor unscrupulous behaviors." Raoul's eyes softened, allowing the true inner pain to peek through if for a fleeting moment.

"Enough, it has been enough. I am a grown man now father, quite capable of deciding what I shall and shall not do. You yourself charted your own course, and happily so, and now you've the audacity to demand that I forfeit mine in order to please you?" Raoul's lips trembled, though he'd not be undone by his fears or insecurities. "You are a guest in my house father, and though I've every desire to allow you to stay as long as you like, I'll not have you passing judgment on any of my other guests or on me. I am your only son, and if I am to find happiness and produce for you a suitable heir, then you'd find yourself in a more favorable position if you'd allow me the privacy and space to allow this relationship flourish. I'd lost my first love, and though you feigned concern for my sorrows, in truth you'd not found her suitable either. Now, as an adult, I've grown to love the woman Meg has become, so much so that I am ready even now to ask for her hand in marriage." Raoul's eyes burned as he looked on the horror of his father's face.

"She is not ready father, and unlike you I will not pressure this creature into a life she might find in time to be a prison if she does not enter it with her eyes open and knowing. If this requires in these hours that we've left together as she convalesces in the comfort of my home, that we spend every moment together, then so be it. It is Meg and I that must know the purity of our relationship, it really is of no matter to another. We know, we understand, why is it that you will not even permit me this one bit of happiness when it can come to nothing more than a suitable end? I've want for children, I've want for the good name of DeChagny to go on, do not doubt that. But you father, must allow me to live my own life. Simply because yours may be filled with regret, does not provide that mine ought not contain happiness. If you have any care for my happiness, you'll not meddle where your opinion has not been called for."

With that Raoul picked up the cloth and wiped the remaining shaving cream from his face. He looked his father squarely in the eye, grabbed his jacket and left his father standing alone in his room. DeChagny dropped himself to the bench in front of Raoul's fireplace. His son had never spoken to him in such a bruising manner, and it quite simply left him without a voice.

XXXXX

The man had slept out in the stable with the new foal. Aside from having to come to his aid just once as he tried to clear some phlegm from his throat it had been a fairly uneventful night.

The maid had brought him out a plate of breakfast and some coffee early on, but now the sun was shining fully, and upon inspection he could see that there was a bit of smoke rising from the kitchen, a wonderful scent wafting towards the stables. He walked over once more peeking at the foal that now lay sound asleep against his mother's side. He'd lock the stable up sturdily, though likely nothing would disturb them in the light of day.

He walked carefully down the narrow path they'd carved from the house to the stable. He'd have to spend the day making a larger swath…all the more reason to pursue a bit more breakfast!

XXXXXX

Madame Giry was fully dressed now, having slipped into a wool dress. She'd heard from Madeline that most of the household still slept, but that Meg was up and about, just having had a bath. She'd decided to go down to the parlor with her book taking in the sounds of a busy household rather than staying in the seclusion of her bedroom. She'd almost hoped she'd be able to lend a hand, even at a menial task. She needed to feel productive. All this idleness did not agree with her normal modus operendi.

She lifted her tray with cup and pot, carrying it to the door, she'd nearly left when she realized she'd left the pages she'd written to Nadir drying in the window seat. She shook her head, that would have been most difficult to explain if they'd been discovered. She sat the tray down and returned to the sheets, carefully folding them, slipping them into the envelope. She tucked it carefully into the drawer of her nightstand. She'd return for it when she felt she'd opportunity to do so. She returned to the tray, glancing only once at the door that separated her from Nadir. As she slid the drawer closed, entombing the note, she blushed. That brief moment of insanity that she'd found herself in his arms, would be a sweet forever memory. She strode through the door and out into the hall, closing the door behind her.

Her door no sooner closed than the door between the two rooms opened. There Nadir stood, his eyes red and wet. Though it should have been from the overwhelming tired that he felt, it was not. His heart ached. He knew not where the future would find either of them, but he knew it would be a much colder place without her in it. He silently closed the door and wandered back to his bed. He quickly found himself fading off to sleep, rehashing the note he'd written her in his own mind. He'd no idea if she'd read it, though by now he'd hoped she would have. Would she be able to forgive him? And then he faded off to sleep.

XXXXX

The city of Chauesser now lay behind them as the dogs pulled the sled quite easily across the new layer of snow. Erik was kept warm by the dog that lay nearly in his lap. He reached down scratching at the dog's ear, the dog in turn licking at Erik's gloved hand.

He'd never had a an animal of any kind to bond with; his horse being the exception and that only out of necessity. He'd spent much time with him, but not from the beginning of his life. It was obvious that this dog had been loved from the first. He was so gentle and attentive.

Erik's thoughts wandered precipitously back to Courtland Manor. Even now he wondered of the foal that was soon due. He hoped it would deliver, giving him reason to retreat there for a visit. Though he loved his time spent with Christine at the winter house, something beckoned him for the larger expanse of Courtland Manor. Perhaps it was his need for solitude, to be in the dark of his studio for a few hours each day.

Unlike the people who'd grown to love the light of day…it was the darkness that rejuvenated him, satisfied his inner urge for harmony and balance. The very song he'd written, that he'd sung to Christine when first she was in his lair, beckoned her to join him in that passion… "Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation, darkness stirs and wakes imagination…" it was his love affair with darkness spilled onto the pages of parchment he'd written for her. Erik closed his eyes, the glare from the snow being far too great for his already painful eyes.

His mind grasped at her memory…that memory of her sweet face when first she beheld his lair, his grotto, his home. He smiled….the look in her eyes when he'd begun to sing, "open up your mind let your fantasies unwind, in this darkness that you know you cannot fight, the darkness of the music of the night…" the look of innocence undone in her eyes. She'd surrendered to him that night…no not in body….but in spirit….she'd relinquished her freedom to him…though he'd not come to fully comprehend that until much later.

How she laid in that bed…he sitting at the piano as she slept without trepidation just a room away. He sighed…it was a bittersweet memory now. Oh how his heart longed for her…his soul yearned for her…his body needed her touch…the warmth of her hands on his skin…not out of lust…but out of pure connection…out of love.

He sighed again, this time his lungs erupted in a heavy cough, and though he tried to refrain, he could not. His chest seized him in fits, causing the sled driver to turn round and look at him. "Are you alright sir?" Erik held up his hand indicating that he should pay him no mind.

The driver clicked his tongue and slowly led the sled to a stop. Erik's coughing had not subsided still. The man was digging deeply into a well-worn leather pouch that was attached to the sled. From it he withdrew a small paper envelope, handing it to Erik. Then he pulled out a jar of hot coffee that the innkeeper had given him, pouring Erik a cup. "Here, drink this first, then take those." The man dismounted his sled, going to check on each dog.

Erik gratefully supped the coffee, it did help to ease his coughing a bit, though not entirely. Peering inside the envelope he tipped it on its side, depositing into his palm two rock like objects, ashen black in color. He looked up at the man who was just glancing back at him.

"Go on, they'll not kill ya," he called back to Erik.

Erik looked down at them hesitantly putting them into his mouth. Immediately he felt a sting on his tongue and an intense smoky black-licorice taste perked his taste buds. He began rolling them about in his mouth, swallowing as they slowly began to dissolve. It was a bit like eating rock candy he thought to himself, though decidedly less pleasant.

In a few minutes time the sled driver returned, mounting the sled once more. "There now, not so bad as you'd first be thinking then are they." Erik gave him a brief smile as the man turned round mushing the dogs once more.

Erik could tell by their surroundings that they were nearly three-fourths the way home. With any fortune at all, they'd arrive before Christine took her late morning tea. No doubt she'd be worried. At least he'd had the foresight to tell her he might stay the night in Chauesser, though he'd not imagined it would be under such circumstances. He coughed once more, but easily stifled it. He'd have to ask the man what they were, and where he might find more if he needed them.

As the sled began to move at a faster pace again, Erik closed his eyes for their comfort. He thought of the poor grieving family that lay back in Chauesser…the look in Nicole's eyes when he'd retrieved her just before her grandmother died…the look in her eyes when he was leaving…he'd remember that look forever. His brow furrowed.

He'd thought of his harsh words to the men at the inn. He'd meant every word, and though it was much restrained in terms of what he might like to have said, he thought he'd not add insult to injury by further denigrating them. The look in some of the men's eyes as he left showed that some despised either him or his chastising words, the difference between the two was very little, his words were his words. He'd wanted to wake them out of their stupor, to help them to see their own folly, good was not done without men doing it… His brow furrowed further at the thought of the words…hero…honored… He'd have none of it…not one bit of it….a hero he was not.

The sled jostled to one side, nearly tipping, but quickly righted itself. Erik opened his eyes, there, off in the distance he could barely see it, but he could…it was the winter house, and it never looked so good to him as it did in these moments… "home is wherever family is, wherever love lives…" he recalled Christine's sincere words from their tender moments in the caverns below the Opera House before they'd fled Paris…yes, home was where his love lived…and that was wherever Christine was. He'd hold her in his arms tenderly, greet his children with ardor, and fall into her waiting loving arms. Home….what a wonderful word.

Author's Notes:

**Captainoblivious**: You know what, I think the poor sled dog has eaten far too much, and since you've decided to dive under his blankets, you could be in for a sour surprise! LOL! Yes, our dear Erik has quite the temper doesn't he? Alas, I wouldn't have it any other way…it makes him all the more intriguing!

**Phantomsrogue**: Change of heart…I know just what you mean. I have parts of chapters that I revise a dozen times before I am happy with it. I look forward to hearing from you. Yes, I should like to see the costume, I'm certain it will be perfect for you.

Ah yes, sugar pumpkin soup does have its tricks. I have a favorite restaurant that I go to whenever I'm in that area W.A.Frost. That is a chef that knows how to prepare the best pumpkin soup I've ever had. The secret there is chicken stock…something your sister would not likely imbibe.

Sounds like your coworkers enjoyed themselves. I have a similar experience several times a year at work. I make scones in the spring for our support staff, chocolate torte with ganache just before summer arrives, caramel apples in the fall, and during the holidays…sadly sugar overload reins the day…I bake sixteen different kinds of cookies from recipes from around the world. Way too much fun for me. That is what I spend my birthday weekend doing….up to my elbows in flour. I just enjoy the creation process…not so much the eating…truth be told, I probably only eat one of each kind just to make sure they taste as they should…but hey, that's still over a dozen cookies in one weekend! Can we say extra pilates anyone? LOL!

Yes, our Erik is something else isn't he? I could just see him going into the restrained rage. He, if you recall, is quite unaccustomed to restraining himself, so that alone was quite a feat! Ah yes, I agree, I could not wait myself! And my dear, do lay your fears to rest. Though there will be coming periods of separation when I am again off on assignment, I have no intentions of this story ending soon….there is far too much to happen yet! Though I do long for writing the other story…

**PhantomFan13**: You made me laugh today. I thought I was the only one who worried about losing the story! I've thought about printing a copy, though I'm afraid an entire forest will be stripped just for the paper! LOL!

Yes, I too long for a reunion, it is so painful to see all these souls suffering as they are. It would be so much easier if everyone knew the truth, but as in real life, the truth is often elusive…some go to their grave never knowing it……

**Batteredchild**: Thank you for the compliment. I toyed so with Erik's outburst, not being quite sure how far to go, or if he'd let enough of his fury escape him. But in the end, the people of Chauesser need to respect him….. Glad you liked that line…could you see Erik's eyes glowing red with anger as he "taught them a lesson"?

**Diveprincess**: All in good time my dear…all in good time!

Tex110: You would have to figure out my favorites! I don't know if you have an actual store in your area, but there is one about an hour from my house. My sister and I were doing a bit of Holiday shopping last December and happened upon the store when the "HOT" sign was lit. Needless to say, watching the process, our resolve weakened and before we knew it, we'd each consumed three…that's right….three donuts and a large coffee. I was not prepared for the ensuing caffeine and sugar high that coursed through my veins, and I'd not do it again….though we did get a considerable amount of "buying" done the hour following our little detour down sugar lane! LOL! I'm very glad I don't live near one or I'd weigh 200 pounds!

**WriterMuseoftheNight**: I like your thought….they're just jealous…and so naïve they don't even know their jealous! LOL! Yes, our dear Erik has much to teach the world. If you recall the song "No one would listen" from the second DVD of POTO, you could tell that he desperately needed an outlet for his talents…to reach out and touch the world…. He has so much to give… Ahhh… And yes, I rather fancy his temper, though I'd not want to be on the receiving end of it! Yes, there was a sneaky reference in the conversation at the Inn about Lady C…good catch…! Right now its March, just how far into it, I'd have to go back and see, but not terribly far…

**ElvieII**I: My dear, I am not easily confused, but this one stumped me "Well I know this sounds pretty morbid. But actualy It was all of the bodies which had turned to stone due to the ash fall in Pompeii ( not exactly rome. but you get the drift)" Can you help me? At first I thought you were referring to a long passed chapter, but then I looked back and I did mention Pompeii… hmm…perhaps you'll enlighten me?

Yes, our dear Erik is on his way back to his beloved….I can hardly wait! Thank you for your encouraging words. It was a stretch to alter him in this way, but we needed for him to be as handsome as he had become in our hearts didn't we?

**Christineluvserik**: No blemishes my dear….just skin.


	139. No Sweeter Words Were Ever Heard

Chapter 138 No Sweeter Words Were Ever Heard 

Raoul went out into the hall, his clothes and boots in hand. He knew his father's room was temporarily unoccupied, though he was certain his father would be heading there once he came to his senses.

Raoul looked back down to the other end of the hall, to Meg's room. No, she'd be preparing herself, and it would only further fuel his father's dispassion for her if he went there in such a state. He couldn't go to the lower floor, what would his staff think seeing him dressed as he was? Raoul was neither as naïve as his father believed, nor would he allow himself to become as suspicious and jaded as his father. He'd trust his staff fully until they gave him reason not, that was simply that.

Raoul stood in the middle of the hall, looking this way and that, finally deciding on ducking his head into Nadir's room. "Nadir?" There was no response. "Nadir…do you slumber?" Still no answer. Raoul went fully into the room, closing the door behind him.

The room was a bit chillier than his own, he'd have to see about having the fire tended when he went down stairs. For now he'd only want to borrow Nadir's water closet to change and he would be on his way. He stepped carefully and quietly over to the small room, closing the door.

Nadir turned his head. He wondered why Raoul would find himself in his room, clothes in hand, slipping about as an uninvited guest might. No doubt there was something or someone in his own room which he hoped to avoid, or surely he'd not be there.

Nadir rubbed his eyes. He hoped Raoul would not come to the bed's side to discover Nadir's face red and blotched from the weeping that had overtaken him. He loved her, and though his intentions were true and he knew what he MUST do, it pained him still.

He'd tried to fall asleep, but alas sleep eluded him. It seemed that the storm had disrupted so many things, and now he was discombobulated so much so, that his own circadian rhythm was amiss. He'd lay there but one more hour he'd decided. If sleep still did not come, he'd rise and find something more productive to do. There was little sense in tormenting the body with what it was unwilling to succumb to. He closed his eyes, rolling over facing away from the door he knew Raoul would soon come through.

There was a rap on the outer door to his bed chamber, two short knocks. His heart thumped loudly, that would be Meg! He had to stop her before she came in speaking of things that they'd not wished for Raoul to hear. But before Nadir could remove himself from the tangle of his bed, Meg walked in closing the door behind her quickly.

"Nadir, we've much to speak of, what did you find when you…" Her voice dropped and she looked on with a tilted head, confusion consuming her face.

Nadir stood in front of her in his bedclothes without a robe, a distraught look on his face, holding a finger to his lips.

"Nadir what is it? Is someone here with you?" Meg's face lit, her lips quivering into an uneven smile "it's not my mother is it? You know how complicated this would be, me with Raoul, you with my mother, and …"

Nadir made his way quickly to her side placing his hand over her mouth before she could utter the next words. Meg shook her head. Nadir leaned over whispering into her ear, "Raoul's in my water closet Meg!"

Meg's eyes grew wide, "oh how foolish of me," she said as quietly as she could.

They both stood there speechless, they'd have to devise a plausible ruse to cover Meg's misstep so as not to raise Raoul's suspicion. They looked down and all around, then Nadir went to his desk, handing Meg an envelope. She looked down at it in her hand.

Nadir leaned in whispering in her ear, "say it's a post for Elizabeth, thanking her for the gifts, ask me to return it when next I go."

Meg cleared her throat. "Silly Nadir, you've not fully woken yet have you? I've come to bring you a post. Could you be so kind as to drop it by for Elizabeth when you make your way back to them?"

Nadir said, in the sleepiest voice he could muster, "I shall be happy to do so for you child. Now you best let me rest, I've had a bit too much brandy, and not enough sleep, not a good mix for a man of my years I'm afraid."

Meg laughed a bit, leaning in to kiss Nadir's cheeks for good measure. "Bon nuit to you then Nadir, bon nuit." Meg turned and left the room.

Nadir returned to his bed, covering himself. He hoped that Raoul would tarry a few moments before attempting to sneak from the water closet. Then he could pretend that he'd not ever known he was there.

Raoul waited until all was silent and he'd a fair degree of certainty that he could pass through undetected. Just as he was opening the door, to peek his head out, he heard yet another rap on the door. This one was much harder, and just one single stroke of the knuckles against the wood. Raoul quickly closed his door when he heard the other door open yet again.

Nadir tried to peek out through the sliver of his eye. It was not Meg, though his heart sank yet again. It was DeChagny.

He walked to the edge of the bed, grabbing onto Nadir's foot. "Nadir, my friend, are you yet awake?"

He'd no idea what would bring DeChagny to his room at this hour…he should have been long asleep.

DeChagny shook his foot again. "Nadir, I've need to talk to you, just for a brief moment, I've a favor to ask of you sir." There was a long pause, "it is in regard to my son."

Nadir's heart raced. What would he tell Nadir about his son, and what would Raoul do if he heard as much? He'd no want to betray either man. If he told DeChagny that Raoul was in the water closet, it would alert Raoul to the fact that he'd known he was there when Meg had visited. If he said nothing, and DeChagny uttered something about Raoul that he'd later regret, Raoul would have heard it without meaning to do so.

He'd but a few seconds to make his decision before it would be made by default. Through no choice of his own Nadir had been put in a middle he did not wish to be in. DeChagny sat down on the edge of his bed, tapping at his back. Nadir simply groaned, hoping this would discourage DeChagny and he would simply leave, alas, it did no such thing.

"Oh…I suppose its just as well. I've need to unload this from my mind, and whether you'd been awake or not is of little consequence." He sighed.

Nadir lay motionless, perhaps that would be all he would say, but he was unhappily proven wrong again.

Raoul had his ear pressed tightly to the door. He'd not want to miss so much as a word of it.

"Raoul is a good son you see. Though I've not told him of it, I am rather proud of him on most occasions. He's done fine justice to bringing honor to the memory of his mother…she'd have been so terribly proud. He's kept on with the work she'd started with her most favorite charities. Indeed, it is why in part that we'd come to be patron's of the Opera Populaire…it had been a passion that we all shared. I'd have been content to take a more silent role, but it was Raoul that had want to step in where his mother would have been, taking on a more visible place."

DeChagny huffed. "Did you know he's started a water color society? Sheer dribble in my opinion, though his mother loved it so."

DeChagny lowered his head, rubbing his thumbs against one another. "He's been a good son, though I do wish he'd married a bit younger, so I could have had years to spend with my grandchildren." His voice changed to a bit melancholy. "Now at best assuming he and Meg have children within the next year, I shall be far too old when they'd be needing my guidance most." There was a long pause.

From inside the tiny water closet, Raoul raised his hand laying it on wood grain of the door that separated him from his father. He hadn't dismissed the idea at all. The fact that his father mentioned he and Meg having children without the characteristic disdain in his voice, was a relief to Raoul. Perhaps in the last few moments he'd come to realize he'd little control over Raoul's choice. Whatever the case, Raoul was relieved.

"Nadir, I know you've no children of your own, but I've come to respect your opinion in other matters, and it is to this end that I ask my favor. Are you awake friend?"

Nadir lay absolutely still. Silence was his only ally now.

"I've need to help Raoul come to an understanding. He must be made to see how his current actions will diminish his staff's opinion of not only himself, but of Meg. If he cares about this young woman as he's professed, then surely he could find the prudence in that." DeChagny sighed heavily.

"I'm quite afraid we've come to a crossroads, Raoul and I, and I doubt very much that he'll pay much heed to my advising just now. I do know that he's come to respect you….that is why I've come to ask for your help. I've so few that I sincerely trust, and though I've known you but a short while, you've proven yourself to be most loyal. If you'd carry the body of a friend back to a final resting place under such circumstances, I've a feeling that you can be trusted with something as seemingly trivial as this."

Raoul sat down quietly on the bench inside of the room. He'd never really thought about his father not having or even needing a confidante. Quite in fact, he'd seemed to be above need for anyone or anything these last years, an island of sorts in humanity. Raoul would constantly need to remind himself that his father had feelings….even if he appeared to all the rest of the world to be devoid of all but guarded circumspection.

"Nadir, can you hear me?" His father tapped him on the leg before rising. "It's just as well, no doubt you'd have found my meddlesome ways as distasteful as Raoul. I only want the best for him….just as my father had for me." With that DeChagny rose and left, closing the door quietly.

Nadir lay, his eyes wide open. He was thankful the dissertation had not been more derogatory, or inflammatory, for who knew what might have erupted in the quiet of that room. This conversation Nadir could disavow all knowledge of. A father had spoken, a son had listened, and neither had to be any the wiser. In an odd way, Nadir's presence had allowed him to be the middle-man, an emotional conduit of sorts, though not an uttered word was required of him.

Raoul sat in the quiet of the dark water closet, contemplating carefully his father's words. He was right…he'd have to think of Meg's reputation…of what was thought of her. In his hopeful anticipation of things to come, he'd not even considered that. He'd need to be a bit more discrete, a bit more respectful. Though nothing of impropriety had ever taken place between them, he'd want there to be no doubt of her virtue when the time came for them to be betrothed.

Raoul tarried for what seemed to Nadir to be an eternity. Somewhere during the wait, sleep overtook Nadir. Inside those four walls, all had received what they'd needed, even if it hadn't come in the most conventional of ways.

XXXXXX

Christine sat with a cup of coffee in her hand fiddling with the spoon in the saucer. It had been half steamed milk, half coffee, a pinch of ground chili pepper, and a pinch of cocoa. Not really coffee any longer, but that's how she preferred it as of late. She inhaled, the glorious scent of baking apples and spice wafted about the kitchen. The strudel she'd made for his homecoming was among them. She'd hoped he would be pleased with it, and with her.

She stood, pacing back and forth from parlor to kitchen to library back to the kitchen. She'd been able to focus on little else. She'd wandered past the clock running her hand over the domed cover, "why doesn't he come father, why doesn't he come."

She closed her eyes. Opening the cover, her hand came to rest over the brass plate with the inscription. Somehow this simple gesture seemed to make her feel connected to her father. She could talk to him in a different way now...as a married woman. "I love him father, I cannot imagine what would keep him...I love him..."

She leaned her head against the wood. The clock struck the first of nine chimes to come. Christine didn't flinch. She wanted to feel the music. Each and every reverberation as it coursed through the inner workings of the clock making their way out in melodious chords. It was nine o'clock and he had yet to return.

Christine walked to the window looking out at the mountains of snow that covered what should be the front lawn fully in spring bloom. The fence was not visible indicating where anything including the walk to the house began or ended, but there was now a carved path down what she'd assumed was the walk from the front door. She sighed, letting the curtain fall from her hand. She looked down at her cup, it was almost empty, perhaps she'd have another.

She wandered back down the hall, her eyes traveling just a bit further than the kitchen. Though she'd tried to put it out of her mind, she still wondered about that drawer. It truth she knew she shan't wonder about it at all. It had been Erik's house, and perhaps it had always been locked. Long before he'd even known that she'd be in the house. Perhaps he'd locked it then, and never gone to it again. She'd try to put it out of her mind. She'd had no doubt that it may come into a conversation, and she could politely ask of it. If he'd want to tell her, he would. If he shan't, she would have to learn to accept it. Though she knew full well that her mind would not leave it alone.

He had many secrets from her...things about his past...that Nadir had warned her that he'd never be able to speak of. If she loved him, she had to accept that fact. She peeked in the door looking at the desk, closing her eyes tightly and drawing the door closed. She'd not do it.

She turned walking back to the kitchen where Nicole was busy kneading dough for that night's supper. She smiled at Christine. "Your pasty will be ready in a short while. Then it will cool a bit and we'll make the frosting laced with vanilla and it shall be ready and waiting when he arrives." Christine returned Nicole's smile. "That is good, very good."

She walked to the coffee press retrieving another cup, filling it half way and adding the two pinches and was just lifting the pan of milk when she heard it. Misty and the other woman stopped, wiping their hands. "What is that sound...is that...is that dogs barking?"

XXXXX

Erik leaned in closer, the house was in full view; he could see the roof, the smoke rising from the chimney. He'd not worried that Christine shan't be cared for in his absence. In truth, that had been his one comfort while he was gone. Nadir had selected the staff especially, and Erik had every confidence that they'd be most attentive to her whilst he was away.

He closed his eyes. The sun on the surface of the snow caused him such pain. The dog in front of him started to whimper. He knew that they were coming to the end of their journey, he could sense it. Oh how he wanted to be on the path with them. Erik scratched at his ear one last time. They'd soon be parting ways.

The sled driver began to slow the dogs, pulling on the reins. Erik's pulse quickened. He was stiff, he was tired, he was haunted by the events of the last hours, and though his soul tugged at him to recluse to the darkest recesses of the house that he could find as he always had whenever he'd been through something difficult, it was at war with his mind and heart that wanted to simply be in Christine's presence and never leave it. The sled began to slow.

Erik's first instinct was to leap from it and make his way as swiftly as he could to the house, but he knew he must wait. Wait until the sled stopped, thank the driver, offer him his normal fee, invite him in for a hot meal, that is what he knew he should do.

Then he heard it... "Erik?" His heart fluttered, he turned looking toward the house. He couldn't see her, but it was her voice...her pure ... sweet... wonderful voice...calling his name. He looked back at the sled driver.

He smiled, "go to her Monsieur, there is no doubt she's missed you." The man smiled at Erik. "Thank you...thank you for all." The man nodded.

Erik's eyes welled with tears as he pushed his way, slipping and sliding on the surface of the snow until he came to the passage that had been carved.

Christine stood in the doorway, "Erik?... Erik? Her heart was racing so quickly there was barely a pause in between each beat. Then she saw him, standing at the top of the drift, above the passage. She gasped, "Erik!" Her voice quivered as a sob rose to her chest, her hand making her way to her mouth to stifle a scream.

Erik looked down, closing his eyes as the tears rolled beyond his lower lid. There had been hours, not that long ago, that he hadn't been entirely certain that he'd again hear her voice, or see her face. God had seen fit to bring him home again, and he would show his gratitude for this gift, by loving the woman He'd seen fit to give him.

Christine watched with reverent awe as he dropped the six feet to the bottom of the passage, his cloak flying up like the mighty wings of an angel behind him. His feet no sooner touched the ground then he'd begun to move to her as though drawn by the strongest gravity, for truly it was...it was the gravity of love...and nothing was stronger...nothing.

Christine had neither cloak nor boots but she quickly took flight running on the hardened snow. They ran towards each other their breath labored as they neared but not from the exertion, but from the deepest, desperate, longings of their hearts at being reunited.

A great lump grew in Erik's throat as he opened the sides of his cloak spreading his arms as wide as he could as Christine nearly stumbled the last few feet and leapt into his waiting arms. Tears streaming down both of their faces. They began to sob, and laugh, and embrace all at once. Erik held her so close he worried that he'd crush her if he shan't be careful.

Christine's arms slid from beneath his, her hands traveling to his face she leaned into him, pulling his neck towards hers. He paused, resisting just a bit as he looked down into her pleading eyes.

"My God woman, I love you...with all my heart I love you." Erik said in a gasping breath, leaning down taking her lips into his. Christine arms found themselves around Erik's neck with a wanton grip. She'd wanted never to let go of him again.

The kiss was that of passion, of happiness, of apology, of thankfulness, of all that could pass between two united souls without words. Erik wrapped his arms around her shoulders protectively, tenderly placing the full of his open palm along her back. He gently pulled her into his chest, closing his cloak around her. In that singular, exquisitely tender moment, the world around them ceased to exist. In it there was only a husband, a wife, and their children, happily, soulfully reunited.

Christine had begun to whimper, the sheer relief of being in Erik's arms caused a fresh round of tears to come, much like the ones that had seized her the afternoon before, indescribable, and unstoppable.

Erik took his lips from hers. "Christine, ma chérie, am I hurting you?" His earlier fears of crushing her, reclaiming his mind.

She sniffled, trying to stifle the tears that freely rolled down her cheeks. "No...no...I'm exceedingly joyful to have you home Erik...I worried..."

Erik took Christine's face in his hands, lifting her chin to gaze fully into her eyes. She was lost in the depths of his intense blue and green pools. He began kissing her first on the forehead, then the left cheek then to right. Looking her in the eyes once more he said, "you shan't have worried my sweet, I'd promised you."

Christine's tears became torrential. The utter relief produced such emotions, and she'd not found a way to control them. Erik kissed her once more tenderly on the lips before he groaned, lowering his arms to her waist and one beneath her knees, scooping her up into his arms carrying her toward the house.

"Erik I..." Erik leaned his head down as he pushed the door open with his boot, "I know Christine...I love you too."

**Author's Notes:**

**Dear Faithfuls**: Let us say it together, one-two-three…. Ahhhhhhhh….. Much needed relief. I know we could bear it no longer for them to be parted. It is amazing how well I slept after I'd penned this chapter! LOL. There had to be some relief in sight.

It is with my humble apology, that I must tell you that once again I will be away from all things electronic next week from Wednesday through Sunday. It is difficult to imagine being away that long yet again, but since I rather enjoy my house and the remaining comforts of my life, duty calls so I must go. I hope that I do not suffer from abandonment after such an absence! I will, as always, think of you often, and scribble away on pad and paper whenever a moment's peace presents itself. I will try my best to make Tuesday's chapter rather pleasant, but alas, I can make no promises! Thank you for allowing me these brief detours on our journey.

**PhantomsRogue**: Yes, quite a lot of baking indeed. I usually spend two eighteen-hour days baking away. I do enjoy it so! I set my stereo on high and play everything and anything that my heart desires. Mostly Christmas music…but this year will require detours into POTO. Oh, Oh, can you imagine if Erik would write holiday music, and our beloved Gerard would record it! Stop my beating heart! I'm sorry, I've just lost myself in a dream again! LOL!

Yes, Erik does have a bit of a cough…hmmmm….though I'm fairly certain its not deadly, but it may require some serious doting on Christine's part! Hmmm.

I will have to look up the costume, though it may not be until the weekend. I love the color you chose… I have long dark hair, and yet pink somehow does me no justice at all. My skin is far too fair to wear it I guess!

I shall look forward to hearing from you. The chapter titles sound rather intriguing! My spine tingles when I think of the possibilities of it all!

Bon Nuit Rogue de le Phantom!

**Phantomfan13:** The truth has an odd way of eluding this family doesn't it? When you think about the fact that it has been hidden for thirty-odd years, we shan't wonder that it would take a bit more to surface should we?

Ah yes, the foal. I cannot tell you just yet, but it is good that you remember it!

Yes study is important…nomenclature… science, my first love…. If life had turned out differently I'd have been a bio-chemist…but destiny had other plans for me!

Yes, a lot of paper indeed. I have it on good authority that an environmentalist would be on my tail for deforesting half of a small nation! LOL!

**Tex110**: Good thing its not close to either of us then! LOL! And yes, though I am a great believer in all things natural, the sugar high was quite….um…well…a trip I guess!

I have to tell you I could actually see you buzzing around your house like a bee does waiting for the queen to return to her nest! Hopefully this chapter brings the buzzing down to a low drone….sorry….a little bit of entomological humor!

**Poetzproblem**: Welcome home! I have worried about you my dear! Thank you for noticing the parallels between Christine and Meg…they have a rather intangible connection don't you think?

Yes, good for Raoul. Even a patient, even-tempered man such as Raoul has to find his backbone at some point. It will come in handy for him in the coming months. He'll have so much he needs to be strong for.

I do feel a bit sorry for DeChagny. However, two strong-willed sons would do the floundering name of DeChagny a bit of good….they would bring honor to grandfather DeChagny….oh sorry….he's coming in the future….hmmmmm, let that proverbial cat out of the bag didn't I! LOL!

Do stay in touch!


	140. Bittersweet

**Chapter 139 Bittersweet**

Meg had made her way back to her room, closing the door behind her. She leaned against the door, letting out a breath she'd not even realized she'd been holding. She laughed at her own folly…to think not breathing would make her presence any less detected. She and Nadir would have to find a way to be more careful….something beyond the special knock they thought they'd so cleverly devised.

She walked toward the divan in front of the fire, coming to rest on the tufted cushion. She leaned, putting her head into her hands. Why on earth would Raoul be in Nadir's room…in his water closet? She shook her head, it simply made no sense.

There was a knock on her door. "Do come in," she called out, hoping that it would be Raoul. Her heart fluttered.

The door opened and her mother came in, greeting her. "Bonjour mon chéri." She smiled coming to join Meg on the divan opposite hers. "Did you sleep well?"

Meg nodded. "Indeed I did."

Her mother smiled at her. "Have you any idea what activity Raoul is planning my dear? He's invited me to accompany the two of you…something out of doors he's said."

Meg looked at her mother. "I've no idea, but I must confess that I overheard he and Madeline talking this morning when I'd just been waking. They mentioned a number of outer garments, about needing to be warm, so I shan't think it will be a brief outing, for there would be no need to prepare to this extent."

Madame Giry nodded. "I see." The two women stared into the fire, silent for moments.

Meg inhaled, "I've got to see to applying my cream." She stood walking over to her vanity. She sat down examining her cheek.

"It's healed well." Her mother said over her shoulder. "I should think that as soon as the doctor is able to travel here, he'd very much like to remove those stitches."

Meg ran her hand over them. The thread was light in color, but it still seemed so foreign under her skin. They had done a fine job of repairing the damage caused by that most violent act. She closed her eyes. There had been so much happiness in the last days, she'd rather pushed that most unpleasant memory from her consciousness.

"Raoul said that very same thing this morning." A fleeting smile crossing her face. Meg looked down at the surface of the vanity, staring at it hollowly. "He's a wonderful man mother. Kind and generous, as sincere a soul as I've ever known." Meg paused.

Madame Giry turned to face her daughter, then rose and pulled a stool next to Meg. "Is everything alright my dear?" She took Meg's hand into her own, caressing her knuckles.

Meg inhaled. "Last night, as we talked into the early hours of the morning…." Meg exhaled slowly.

"It's alright child, I am here." Her mother said, patting her hand reassuringly.

"We decided mother….when the time comes that the Opera House is readied, you shall certainly have want to return there…this is true yes?" Meg glanced up at her mother for affirmation.

Madame Giry looked down, swallowing and then back up thoughtfully, "that is my intention yes." Inside her heart was breaking to have stated it out loud.

"When you return mother, I shan't be going with you." Meg glanced at her mother for reaction, then looked away out of shame.

Madame Giry let go of Meg's hand, nervously tugging at the folds of her dress. "I see." There was a long silence. "And is it your intentions to stay here with Raoul?" Madame Giry looked at Meg trying to find a compassion for her daughter that would allow her to understand.

"No. Surely you can understand that would be most awkward for all concerned." Meg smiled nervously at her mother. "I'll be returning to Chauesser…staying with…Elizabeth and Stephan, for a time." Meg glanced once more at her mother.

"I see. And they know of your plans my dear?" Madame Giry looked inquisitively at Meg.

"It was decided just last night, though I doubt they would mind at all." Meg rose strolling over to the window. "I need to be certain mother. Certain that I can manage the weight of it. Certain that I can overcome what needs to be done. Certain that I can leave that old life behind before plunging head-long into a new one."

She pushed the curtain aside glancing out at the sunlight that danced across the snow peaks, glistening with such brilliance it was nearly blinding. "I've no doubt of Raoul's love for me mother…he has felt this way for a long while now." Meg closed her eyes, releasing the curtain from her hand.

"What I do not know, perhaps I shall never know…can he put Christine out of his mind…out of our life." A tear ran down Meg's cheek. "To marry Raoul is to make a choice. A choice between lives, nay, between worlds that will never be reconciled. I need to be certain that this is not too great a sacrifice to make." Meg turned, looking at her mother. "You understand."

Madame Giry nodded her head. No matter what Meg chose, she would be at the mercy of it, and in pity of her pain.

"I know that this decision is difficult, and am staggeringly aware that it affects both you and I. If I choose one world, it cuts you off from the possibilities of another. Nadir will no doubt remain most loyal to…Stephan…making a future impossible for the two of you, should I choose to stay with Raoul."

Madame Giry rose, starting to pace back and forth in front of the fireplace, a stern look growing on her face. She was about to do, what loving parents had done for generations before her. She could hear those ancient words… "deny thyself for their happiness."

"Child, that is of little consequence. It is not, nor should it be a factor in the decision that you make. You are to choose your own happiness, and your's alone….that is a mother's greatest wish, for her child to be happy. I had my life, your father….that was my happiness, and I've not come to regret even a minute of it. You my dear, need to choose your own happiness."

Meg slowly walked toward her mother. "I knew you'd feel this way. You also then should understand the love of a daughter….I too want you to be happy."

In the back of Meg's mind was this nagging thought…oh if it proved to be true that Erik and Raoul were brothers, and one day could at least be on amenable terms with one another, how very much different all of their lives could be.

"Mother, I shall return to Chauesser for a time. I do not know how long it might be. Raoul insists that I take as long as I need to be certain. It will go under the auspices of caring for Stephan and Elizabeth, and of recovering further myself. After that time, I shall return to Paris with a decision to join you at the Opera House, or to return to Raoul's."

Meg looked down at the ground as she came to rest next to her mother. "He's said upon my return, should I decide that there is a future for he and I, that a most special item will be waiting for me." Meg smiled at her mother who in turn grabbed her hand, pulling her into an embrace. "Oh Meg. You poor dear…what a decision you have yet to make." They stood holding one another until a knock came at the door.

Madeline made her way in, hands tucked neatly behind her back. "Please join, early lunch ready, Comte waits." Madeline smiled at them and retreated closing the door behind her.

Madame Giry turned to Meg once more, saying words that Meg would long remember. Whenever her mother had something most serious to tell her, she often quoted Latin, and this case was no different. "**Quos amor verus tenuit, tenebit." **Madame Giry smiled at Meg . "_True love will hold on to those whom it has held." _ "If it was meant to be Meg, then, it shall be."

The two women joined arms, Meg leaning her head on her mother's shoulder as they walked toward the door leading to the hall. They would join Raoul, and let the future take care of itself.

XXXXX

DeChagny found himself face down on his feather bed, pillows tucked here and there for comfort. He'd not even bothered disrobing. He was snoring so loudly that the maid had come in to be certain that he was alright. She'd managed to put a blanket over him and tend the fire without so much as a notice.

As he drifted off, he'd lost himself in a series of disjointed dreams. Traveling long distances in time and space, some subjects of imagination, some of memories long forgotten. He smiled in his sleep as he nestled into a pillow, this was most pleasant one. One he longed for. But dreams being dreams, none had control to solicit them, they simply visited at will.

He and Claire were walking hand and hand along the towpath by the river in Chauesser. They'd just finished a picnic, and traveled now with the last of their bottle of wine in their glasses. The bottoms of his trousers were rolled to mid-calf, and she held in her hand the layered ruffles of the hem of her dress. Stockings and shoes removed, they'd been pleasantly dipping their toes in the water on the warm summer afternoon. The gardens of Chauesser were in full bloom and so was their love; a day in late June. She'd put her head on his shoulder, and he kissed her forehead.

"My dearest Claire, I can only imagine our life together in Paris!" DeChagny had begun, as he held her hand tightly, strolling ever slower. "The galas, the soirées, all the finery…." Claire nestled her head on his shoulder.

"Do tell me, what is it that we are wearing?" He laughed, "I suppose, let me see, yes, a lovely cream dress, full of pearls and lace." She smiled, he kissed her once more on the forehead. "It is a full skirt. You've a lovely pearl necklace about your neck." He smirked at her.

She said, "yes, the one of my mother's that I'm constantly admiring."

He laughed, "yes, that's the one, and a parasol."

She smiled at him, squeezing his hand a bit tighter, "it must be an exceptional occasion."

He smiled at her, a darker twinkle rising in his eye. "Yes, it is the social event of the season!" She began to laugh extending his arm in hers, trying to dip her toe in the water as the path came to a low spot.

He laughed, "you'll fall in if your not careful, and take me with you."

She laughed at him, "then we'd be all wet, whatever would we do?"

He laughed, growling just a bit, pulling on her arm bringing her into an embrace. "I don't know, whatever would we do." He leaned down kissing her tenderly. She slipped her arm about his neck, laying the other on his chest. He pulled away looking into her eyes. "Claire, Claire….how I love you."

She patted him on the chest leaning into his arms. She squeezed him tightly about the middle, putting her fingers to his sides, tickling him deeply. He began to laugh and writhe about like a schoolboy with a bag of bugs in his britches. She laughed tauntingly and let go, running as quickly as she could, her skirt pulled up in both hands, wine glass left on the bank of the river.

DeChagny gave chase, cornering her beneath the large awning of a weeping willow. She'd hidden in the deepest part of the tree, in a tangle of old and new branches. "Claire?" He heard her giggle. "You've gone into a cave like a bear, now you've no way out my dear, and whence I find you, you shall pay in spades my dear!"

She laughed once more. He quickly spun on his heels towards where her voice had come. She tried to get passed him, darting left and then right, but in the end, he'd grabbed her about the middle and pulled her into a passionate embrace. It wasn't long before their youthful passions gave way to the forbidden.

As they lay in dark shaded recesses of the tree, DeChagny lay next to Claire looking down at her swirling blue eyes. She was trembling, as much from excitement as from the chill of not being fully clothed. She gazed up at him. He was as handsome a man as she had ever known, and just now coming into his own. His chest wide and proud, a chiseled jaw, and noble brow….oh how they enchanted her. He reached over putting his jacket over her. Leaning down he placed a tender kiss on her temple.

She looked up at him, "so what was it?"

He furrowed his brow slightly, pushing the hair from her forehead, placing a kiss on it. "What was what my dear?" He laughed propping himself up on one elbow.

She laughed, running her index finger along his collarbone, causing him to shudder. "We were all dressed up, I in that lovely ivory dress, and you, what were you wearing? Where was it you said we were going, the social event of the season?"

He looked down, suddenly feeling a bit more serious. "It would be the social event of the season….whenever a DeChagny marries, it is the social event of the season."

She blinked, suddenly losing the playful glint in her eye. "That is not something we should tease about, it does nothing but bring heartache to us both." DeChagny felt Claire pulling away. She sat up, reaffixing her garments.

He looked at her confusion and hurt in his voice. "Why is it that you think I jest of such things?"

Claire was shaking her head. "You know neither your father nor mine would approve. Truly, they'd have us drawn and quartered if they knew of our relations." She huffed a bit as she pulled her sleeves on. He rose helping her with her corset.

"Why……why would it be such a horrid thing to see your two children happy?"

Claire, turned to him, helping him with his jacket. "Your father is stubborn, my father is proud and stubborn…they both have intentions for us. You know we've but this summer to revel in the joy of one another's company."

DeChagny hated her words, they were bitter bullets to his ears, though he knew she spoke the truth. When they were both finished, they stood holding one another in the cool dampness of the shade. They had but those few months and then they would be parted. Reality was far too cruel a thing for either of their young hearts to endure.

DeChagny sat up, his brow full of sweat, his heart racing. There he was in his room at Raoul's house, utterly alone. The dream was bittersweet, but oh how he loved it so. It was one of the most rebellious, most risqué things he'd done in the entirety of his life, and he'd never felt more alive than he did those months. His spirit was soaring, to see her again….if only in a dream. To see himself when he'd still had a beating heart…one that bled…wasn't as cold as stone. He'd been a much younger man then, and to him the world still held promise. Oh how the realities of this world had settled upon him over the decades of living he'd done since those tender innocent days spent in that tiny far-away hamlet.

He laid back down. He was wide awake. He'd lay there for another two hours just recanting that summer…his summer of love, before he'd drift once again to sleep.

XXXXX

Erik carried Christine in his arms as he closed the front door behind them. The sensation of the warmth of the house was entreating, but not nearly so much as the warmth of the woman that now clung to him with an iron grip. Her sobbing had begun to subside, though he could hear her whimpering as she rubbed her tear stained cheek against his chest.

Erik glanced around the foyer, it was as if the house was deserted, and they were the only two there though he knew it to not be true. He paused at the library door but Christine shook her head.

"No, Erik, you are in need of warmth, of rest. I can hear the rattle in your lungs." She tenderly touched his cheek, the sheer compassion in her eyes seeping into Erik's soul.

Erik looked into her eyes. How could he refuse her anything she asked? He gently set Christine down on her feet. Slipping his cloak around her as they stood in the hall just holding one another, running their hands up and down one another's backs in a gesture of reassurance that all was well. She was back in her favorite place in all the world…his arms.

Misty peeked her head out of the kitchen, catching Christine's eye. Misty nodded. She was holding the strudel in her hand, the steam rising from the apple filling that piped through the openings in the perfectly baked flaky crust. Christine smiled at her. Misty nodded, pointing toward the upper floor. Christine nodded just slightly. Misty would finish the preparation and then bring it to Christine once she'd taken Erik upstairs.

Christine slid her hand into Erik's. "My dear, dear, Erik." She reached up kissing him. He could do nothing more than look down at her with such awe and love. She had been what had kept him from succumbing to a fate he would have only several years ago welcomed.

"Come, let us go upstairs, warm you, change you into something more suitable, then we can see to some breakfast." Erik let Christine lead him by the hand toward the stairs. He'd already had his breakfast, but he'd not insult her intentions by saying as much.

Misty smiled as she saw Elizabeth and Stephan disappear up the stairs. She'd already gone on up ahead of them as soon as she knew he'd arrived. She'd put a few logs in the fire, and begun running the bath, leaving the door open so that it would be discovered. She'd check on it when she delivered the strudel and tea. It was good to have him home again….good to see Elizabeth happy, and relieved.

XXXXX

Christine barely arrived with Erik in the room and closed the door before Erik dropped to his knees, putting his arms around her waist, resting his head against her abdomen. "Forgive me," he whispered as he held her close.

The tears that had subsided returned without hesitation. She ran her fingers through Erik's hair. It was stiff and sticky in parts, causing Christine to look more closely. Was that dried blood? "Erik, what happened in Chauesser?" She drew her hand up to her face, yes, it was decidedly blood.

Erik shook his head. "I shall not speak of it just now Christine," he said as he nestled his face even closer to her, pressing his lips on the waist of her dress.

Christine wanted to ask more, to inquire, why this delay? What horrors had he found in Chauesser? She sighed, knowing that if he needed time, she would provide this one luxury for him. "Very well, when you are ready then?"

Erik nodded. He needed more time to sort this out for himself before he could explain it to her. All he wanted now was to be near her, listen to her breath, be in her presence. To love her.

Christine took Erik's hand, pulling on it until he rose to stand above her. He looked down sweetly placing one hand on either side of her face, caressing it tenderly. "My dear I've missed you…it has been a long day….and the night away from you….I shan't want to be away from you again." He smiled at her as he leaned down taking her lips into his. He slid his arms down around her shoulders, letting them linger there until she slid her arms around his own waist, pulling him ever closer. His arms found themselves gliding down her back until they too rested about her waist. The kiss that followed was long and passionate, a blending of spirits being reunited. There was always something bittersweet about reuniting, a sad pause in a placid state of being that two had to be separated in the first place. But, oh, how sweet was the reunion!

There was a gentle rap on the door. Their lips parted, though they'd not let go of one another. Erik called out, "enter."

Misty carried in the tray with strudel and a pot of tea, two plates, knives, and forks. She'd a small vase of flowers on the tray, a remnant of the ones that had been harvested the night before the storm. All its companion flowers now lay frozen beneath the layers of snow just outside. Christine nodded at Misty as she set the tray on the table at the end of the bed and then went into the water closet to check on the bath.

Erik glanced down at the tray. The frosting was just beginning to melt over the still hot pastry. He smiled. "It looks as though our household has been busy whilst I've been away."

Christine smiled deeply, lowering her eyes, running her hand up his torso, until it rested in the middle of his chest. He looked down at her, smiling at the embarrassed grin she had on her face.

Misty walked out of the water closet, looking over at the pair of them in each other's arms. Oh how sweet a sight, to see the master and his wife happily reunited. "All is ready mum, monsieur." She nodded and left the room.

Erik looked down at Christine. "All is ready?"

Christine smiled, leading Erik to the divan in front of the fire. As she let go of his hand to retrieve the tray, Erik watched her every movement as she went to it, carrying it back to the table next to them.

He watched with eager eyes as she overturned the cups, putting them in their saucer. Carefully tilting the tea pot, holding the lid, gracefully pouring a cup for each of them without spilling a drop. It wasn't what she was doing that Erik watched with such intensity, it was how she was doing it. Her methods, her motions, her hands, her arms, the way she pursed her lips whenever she poured tea…..how she smiled sweetly before she handed him his cup…her every movement entranced him.

He was taking his first sip from the cup as she reached down carefully slicing into the strudel, steam rising as she pierced the crust. The frosting all but melted now lay in heavy pools on the platter. Christine carefully took the tip of the knife retrieving some to drizzle over the exposed apples on the slices she'd put on each plate.

She took a napkin from the tray, laying it across Erik's lap. He watched speechlessly. She smiled at him coyly, glancing out of the corner of her eye as she reached down lifting one plate into her palm. She glanced up at him as she held the plate out in front of him. She took notice that he was already swallowing, no doubt an unconscious salivary response to the heavenly scent that rose from the pastry.

She sunk the fork into the pastry, moving it back and forth until she'd dislodged a piece. She smiled once more at Erik as she slid the fork beneath it lifting it to his lips. He smiled at her, his eyes fully ablaze now as he watched with what eager anticipation she presented this to him. He opened his lips as Christine gently slid the fork in between them, letting his tongue slide along the instrument until he'd removed every morel.

Christine smiled, her eyes glowing as she watched him enjoy the heady pleasure.

Erik's tongue tossed the apples and pastry about in his mouth, each taste bud alive with sensation as he took it in. Apples were by far his favorite, and when prepared properly, they were as delectable a thing as he'd ever had. Christine watched with wanton eyes.

Erik swallowed. "That is delicious my dear." Christine smiled, blushing slightly. Erik turned to set his cup of tea down on the table, reaching out taking the plate from Christine's hands. "I should say they've certainly outdone themselves." Erik pushed the fork about on the plate, cutting a piece for Christine, as she watched. He lifted the fork sliding it in between her lips. He smiled, taking another bite for himself. They'd share this pleasure together.

He waited until she'd swallowed, watching as she enjoyed her first taste. "Yes…yes…it is rather lovely isn't it." Christine could feel the weight of the frosting on her lower lip but before she could raise her napkin to remove it, Erik had swooped in, gently running the tip of his tongue over it. Christine shuddered. "Erik.." Her smile changing into something else…a look that Erik recognized.

Christine was reaching our for her tea cup when Erik slid across the divan, slowly sliding his hand around Christine's back, resting it between her shoulder blades, pulling her to him. He smiled at her, looking with such tenderness into her eyes. He leaned down kissing her lightly on the lips, and then her left cheek, and then her right.

Christine's skin began to tingle. How was it possible that he made her feel this way still…as though she'd never known love or the gentle touch of a husband? Yet each time they were apart and reunited, it was a spontaneous emotion that filled her.

Erik smiled at her, whispering in her ear as he placed a gentle kiss behind it. "My love grows for you each day my dear…" She shivered. Erik leaned back looking into her eyes once more. "You are far sweeter than even this…indeed…you are far sweeter than anything I've ever known in this life." He blinked once as he saw a tear begin to form in Christine's eye.

He leaned down claiming her lips once more, this time without hesitation or want to deny either of them that which they yearned for.

**Author's Notes: **

**Dear Faithfuls**: Bon Nuit! A bit longer chapter than usual, I hope no one minded. I am already having withdrawal knowing that I shall only be able to update twice next week. Though I will have my handy notebook with me, it will require some time to type in the chapters after I return. I shudder to think what anyone would think if I'd inadvertently left my notebook behind…yikes…it could be so misconstrued unless one knew the premise! I hope everyone has a wonderful fall weekend, full of apple cider and pumpkins, and a leaf-crunching walk in the park….I'm suddenly wishing our story line matched the season…for autumn is a particularly romantic season…

**PhantomsRogue**: Yes, it is a rather spiritual experience to do that. If I could have the perfect life it would be to hole up in my house, play Opera Music, read great literature, and bake delicacies from every different country around the world. The only company I'd require would be the occasional visitor to challenge me to a game of chess! (hmmmm chess…that may come out in the story somewhere!) I think so much of those passions have spilled into this story…perhaps it is more a labor of love than I'd ever first envisioned when I wrote that first precarious paragraph…little did I know what sort of journey I'd be on five months later! I truly feel so blessed, so fortunate to have been able to do this. Feeling a bit philosophical today…. Perhaps it is the new beans I've ground for coffee….oh the decadence…chocolate brownie truffle….it has a heady fragrance, and just as delicious a flavor…though today it came out of a pot and not the customary French press that I'm so in love with!

So, are you going to write the letter to Gerard or am I? I think he should record a few songs just for his faithful fans don't you? Can you imagine that voice singing Avia Maria….no, no, I've one better….how's this for a Phantomesque Christmas song…. "Silent Night!" oh my, now I've gotten myself all flustered…. I think you've distracted me again with your comment about your 'own' Erik and a wolverine…Did you say you saw Dracula 2000? If not, you have to see it for the one scene where he is chasing Mary in her house…he switches back and forth between a man and a wolf…it might be right up your alley! LOL

I look forward to hearing from you! Bon Nuit mon amie!

**Hopelesslyobsessed:** The more reviews I receive from you, the more fitting your tag name has become! Oh, do not think I do not share in your obsession my dear! I am very pleased that the two are home together at last. Could you just feel the relief…..ahhhh… This couple has electricity between them….something that so few couples ever truly have….it takes deep longing souls to have this sort of relationship…perhaps it is the hardships they've endured that has given them such a solid union…whatever it is…I wish I had it myself! LOL! Hope you enjoy this chapter….it gives us a little more perspective in the old term…like father like son……. Have a great weekend!

**WriterMuseoftheNight**: Your last review played right into what happened with Raoul's father in this chapter! Hypocrite indeed! You are right, father and son would benefit from therapy, too bad there wasn't such a thing then. Most tormented souls became poets…that was there form of therapy! I suppose it was because of things like this happening for centuries that psychotherapy was born, don't you? LOL! Oh, and can you imagine if Erik does end up being his son also? Can we say valium anyone? Perhaps it would send the poor old man over the edge. Raoul might have given him a small piece of his mind to get him to back off…but I think he'd finally meet his match with our dear, sweet, even-tempered (chuckle) Erik! LOL!

I am so sad to hear you do not own the POTO DVD, it is such a lovely thing to have…I am happy that you were able to listen to the song "no one would listen", it is even better if you could possibly see the DVD and watch as Gerard sings it. If you think he was handsome before, you'll flip over this one. I do not care what any of the critics say…he was the PERFECT person to play Phantom. He is handsome and mysterious and intense…all the things that LeRoux would have imagined his Phantom to be if he could have! It is never so evident as it is in this video version of the song. You might have to treat yourself to an early holiday present and order one from e-bay or Amazon…. It is worth every, every, penny! I am so tempted to buy a copy of the movie for everyone on my shopping list this year…perhaps I could get a volume discount!

Yes, this story still has much to tell…and irony…I think it has become a favorite theme!

And yes, one kindred spirit to another….we all share this one big swirling sphere, but a few of us share something more…kindred spirits indeed.

**Poetzproblem**: "I shouldn't have worried…" sounds like a quote from our dearest Erik! I empathize with you regarding the daily grind. This story, and our little Phamily, has become a haven of sorts for me from the every-day cares you speak of.

Yes, a Meg and Christine reunion…I think we would all like to see this happen…though the timing and circumstances are a bit tricky right now…I cannot say more I'm afraid…I have a "one cat out of the bag" limit for each week:-D By the way, I loved your description of the little kittens being crammed in there. Our story does have its diverging plot lines doesn't it? I simply couldn't help myself! Have a great weekend…wherever in the world or in your life that this story finds you!

**Phantomlover05:** Yes, reunited indeed. I hope this chapter finds you with a smile on your face, and a warm fuzzy surrounding you as you sigh with a bit of relief! Have a great weekend!

**Batterchild**: My goodness that is what I call dedication! Refreshing that many times takes perseverance and a good deal of patience! My hats off to you for going to such lengths! You must tell your little sister that you will send Erik after her if she continues to download so much, as it is interfering with your mission as you so aptly put it! And do remind her that he is skilled in the use of both sword and lasso, and can appear without detection! Hmmmm…. No doubt unless she's seen the movie it won't make a bit of sense to her, but you'll likely get a good chuckle out of the disturbed look on her face!

Have a great weekend….and may the power of the broadband be with you! LOL!


	141. indulgence

**Chapter 140 Indulgence **

Raoul waited patiently in the dining room until he could hear their footsteps in the hall. They entered the room arm in arm, and Raoul could surmise rather quickly, that Meg had told her mother of their plans, to which he was much relieved.

XXXX

Erik ran his hands adeptly over Christine's back, pausing to caress her waist, sliding his hands to the front. They paused, both inhaling as their kiss parted, now leaning with their foreheads together as they looked down at the place where his hand rested. Christine tilted her head up just enough to place a kiss on Erik's chin.

"And have they been behaving in my absence?" Erik turned his head kissing Christine on her forehead. His warm breath lingering there.

Christine closed her eyes, leaning into him, running her hand along his back. "They've been most helpful with their mother's appetite I'm afraid."

Erik laughed a bit, pulling Christine into an embrace, lifting her from her feet, spinning her just slightly, until he set her down allowing the sunlight to dance across her eyes. She squinted just a bit. Erik leaned down kissing her cheek. "I can be of assistance in both matters."

Christine cocked her head inquisitively. "Whatever do you mean?"

Erik smiled, reaching down to lift the plate, cutting with his fork, another tender bite. He leaned over placing it into Christine's mouth. He slid the fork between his own lips removing the remnants of cinnamon from the tines. The frosting laid heavily on her upper lip, and she reached for her napkin, but before she could grasp it, Erik caught her, leaning down to remove the frosting with a kiss. Christine shuddered.

Erik tipped his head just slightly his gaze becoming fixed. It was the look that sent shivers up Christine's spine. It was if he were a snake charmer, she now unable to move, to speak, or even breathe…could but watch and nothing more. He took several steps away from her, and he began to sing.

"Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation, darkness falls and awakes imagination…" as he sang he moved from window to window in their room, unhooking the heavy drapery allowing it to fall over each window. By the time he reached the last, letting that curtain fall, the room, save the fire that was in the hearth, was dark.

He walked in what seemed to be slow motion toward Christine, undoing his cravat, discarding his cloak and jacket along the way. As he reached her, he took her into an embrace, looking down into her eyes as he sang, "Softly, deftly, music shall caress you, hear it, feel it, secretly possess you, open up your mind let your fantasies unwind, in this darkness that you know you cannot fight, the darkness of the music of the night."

He stood there holding Christine as she trembled looking up into his eyes. "I have loved you for so long Christine, so desperately loved you…..you have been my reason for living these last years, and now more than ever I want to be here for you. I know from time to time we shall be parted, but not without good cause, and I shan't be taking foolish risks with my life, as it is no longer mine alone. I pray you'll forgive me my dear, for causing you such worry."

Her lips were trembling…she'd forgive him anything….

He looked around the room. "There, now the sun shan't be in your eyes," he said pushing a stray brown tendril from her face. "Let us pretend, if but for a few hours, that I've never left, that it is you and I alone again in the darkness of the night….that we can be together as we would have, had I not gone."

Christine just stared into the depths of his eyes, entranced, enthralled, and so deeply in love she'd lost track of where she ended and he began. "Hold me…lay your hands on me…reassure me you'll be here…" she said pleadingly, "I need to feel your love…" Christine said looking up at him once more.

Erik's heart swelled as he reached down trying to restrain himself so he'd be gentle, but there was nothing more desirable than being wanted, and Christine wanted him. Erik leaned down placing a kiss on Christine's shoulder before he scooped her up into his arms, carrying her off to the expanse of their bed. Though the brightness of day shone with great intensity outside, it was little match for that which raged inside that darkened room….the music of the night.

XXXXXXXXX

"Thank you Madeline," Raoul said as she leaned over filling his cup from her steaming pot of coffee. "The meal was excellent." Madeline smiled at him. "Thank you." She was glad he was pleased. It had been a perfect soufflé le fromage, a tomato and basil bisque, served with crusty fresh bread. A warm wintry treat for such a day. She'd gone about setting a stemmed dish of a hazelnut and cocoa pudding in front of the three of them.

Meg sat staring down at it with such wonder. It was simply beautiful. Each dish was rimmed in a mixture of powdered cocoa and coarse crystalline sugar. Inside was the most heavenly pudding she'd ever seen. It was swirled with a delicate ribbon of crème and adorned with several coffee beans dipped in chocolate, and thickly chopped hazelnuts. A miniature ladyfinger protruded from the side, giving it the most elegant finish. "It's nearly too pretty to eat," she said smiling over at Raoul and glancing at her mother who properly nodded her head raising her silver spoon, sliding it into the dish. The beauty of the presentation did little to prepare one for the sheer indulgence of the pudding itself.

Madame Giry was the first to break into the silent enjoyment they were sharing. "So pray do tell Raoul, whatever activity do you have planned for us this afternoon, that would require us to bundle up so?"

Raoul smiled as he sipped from his cup. He looked back and forth between Meg and her mother. It pleased him so to see that they were both genuinely intrigued. "It's but a little outing, nothing too strenuous of course. We've really so few opportunities to do this anymore this year, I thought we'd take this advantage."

Meg smiled at him coyly. "Shall we be needing snowshoes?" She blushed, she'd never donned a pair in her lifetime, hoping desperately his answer would be no.

Raoul laughed as he dipped his spoon into the pudding, retrieving a chocolate covered hazelnut. Holding the spoon in front of him, he replied. "Oh heaven's no, we shan't be walking about in this weather!"

Meg was confused. Wherever could they go outside in this snow that they'd not have need of such? "Oh Raoul, do tell." Meg implored.

Raoul laughed a bit, glancing at the grandfather clock. "I shan't think they'd be ready yet, but I shall inquire." He rose from his chair, "ladies, if you'd please excuse me." Madame Giry and Meg both nodded.

Meg watched Raoul walk with a spring in his step toward the door and disappear. Meg turned back to look at her mother.

Madame Giry said nothing. She simply smiled at Meg over her cup of coffee. Meg blushed a bit, returning to her dessert. She'd not really realized it before…but whenever he was in the room, it was difficult for her to take her eyes off of him.

Madame Giry smiled back at her daughter. "It is alright my dear…you should find him handsome."

Meg's face flushed crimson. Her head lowered as she took another spoonful of the delicious pudding. "Is it that obvious mother?"

Madame Giry laughed quietly. "Yes, my dear, but that is quite alright. Being attracted to one whom you've intentions for, bids well of your future happiness."

Meg smiled widely, "I do rather fancy him mother. From the very first time I laid eyes on him at the Opera House those months ago when he came in when Carlotta was rehearsing for Hannibal." Meg's eyes glazed over as she remembered it. "I can recall seeing him walking onto the stage, handing his cloak to one of the men as he strode out to greet Firmin and Andre, he was so handsome."

She smiled looking down at the finely polished surface of the wood table. The sheen was so acute that she could see her reflection in it as surely as if it were a mirror. "I'd mentioned as much to Christine." Her eyes became distant. "That is when she'd told me of their relation as children. Neither she nor I could have ever imagined the events that followed…not even in the wildest adventures we toyed with."

Meg inhaled sharply, looking back up at her mother. "That was a long time ago. So much has changed since that time…it seems a lifetime ago now." She dipped her spoon into the dish once more.

Madame Giry laid her spoon to rest on the saucer beneath the dish. "Meg, do not torture yourself so. Let time take care of itself. All things will be resolved in time my dear, you must learn to trust it. Time can be your friend, softening or sharpening your senses to their truest form so that one might know quite plainly what to do."

Meg looked up at her mother, a thankful glance being exchanged. "Yes I know. But I shan't ever forget that day mother, not as long as I shall live. Life from that point forward changed at lightening speed."

Madame Giry nodded, she knew exactly what Meg meant. She was just about to say as much when Raoul walked back into the room.

"Ladies, if you'd be so kind as to accompany me this way." He held out his arm. He'd already donned his cloak and cap.

Madame Giry and Meg rose, placing their napkins in their chairs, walking toward the door. There they were greeted by two of Raoul's staff who held out their coats for them.

Meg smiled as she slipped her arms into the long white coat. Raoul smiled as he looked on from the side. He knew it would suit her. She smiled at him, as the maid affixed all the hooks required. She was as beautiful in it as he'd imagined.

Madame Giry was overwhelmed by the coat she'd slipped on. It was as luxurious a fabric as she'd seen in a long while. Though it was wool it was soft and supple, embellished beautifully.

In a few minutes time they were ready. Raoul led them to the door and out onto the back veranda.

Meg turned to her mother and smiled. It had been a long while, not since she was a very small girl that they'd ridden one, it brought back such sweet memories.

Madame Giry smiled widely at Meg and at Raoul. Raoul quickly came to take Madame Giry's hand, escorting her. "Mother…" it rolled so easily off his tongue. "Raoul," she said as she took the arm that he offered her.

He returned, offering Meg his arm. As she stepped off the small platform she'd been standing on she slipped, Raoul easily catching her. As he brought her back to a standing position, he leaned down kissing her lips ever so lightly. "Are you alright?" He whispered in her ear and looked her in the eye.

Meg was blushing, "thank you Raoul, it seems at every turn you're having to rescue me from some harm or another, I dare say I'll be quite a burden for you." She smiled at him apologetically as she slipped her arm into the one he'd offered her.

Raoul laughed, pulling her shoulders into his arms, giving her a gentle embrace. "A burden my dear, you shall never be." He smiled at her kissing her forehead. "Now, let me see, those boots must be slippery dear." With that Raoul bent down and scooped Meg up into his arms. She felt like a large white bear being carried off into the forest. Raoul laughed. "I can barely see you beneath all this fur, at least I know you shan't catch cold!"

Meg was laughing as Raoul sat her in the seat across from her mother, climbing in to join her. "Now ladies, if you'd indulge me, I should like to take you to my favorite place when the weather is as it is today." With that there was a crack of a whip and the sleigh pulled away from the house.

Yes, this would be a most pleasant afternoon indeed.

XXXXX

Back at Courtland Manor the skeleton crew had begun the process of clearing enough snow for the animals to move about. They'd no worry for visitors now as everyone would certainly be stationed wherever they'd found themselves several days before.

The young foal was up and about, its mother keeping closely to its side. It seemed to have a strong will, and was prancing about in the pen as though it wished to run out into freedom. The stableman smiled, Monsieur Courtland would be pleased. It was as elegant as it's mother, and as feisty as its father, a good mix he thought. As the snow disappeared he'd have to plan on grooming him so he'd be ready should they return unannounced. There was much to be done, but he'd tend to his master's pride and joy as if it was his own.

XXXXX

Nicole sat in the chair next to the window staring out at the city that was just starting to dig out from beneath its largest snow storm in decades. Her mother lay sleeping on the bed. She'd finally given in to the exhaustion that had beleaguered her.

Nicole's face was splattered with splotches of red and white, and her staggered inhalations were both evidence of the grief that now consumed her. How very much she had sacrificed to be here for her grandmother…for her mother. A new swell of tears washed over her.

Now, she would have opportunity to move on with her life, to find a husband…. She and her mother no longer had reason to stay in Chauesser. She could return to the city that she so loved…but then….would it be too painful to see him…to see him with his wife…with his children…. She didn't know if her heart could bear it. She was caught in between two lives now, belonging fully to neither. She'd been so busy living in the moment, in the present cares, she'd not taken time to consider the what ifs. Now, faced with the knowledge that she could be free, it frightened her. As liberating as it should feel, it was oddly opposite. It felt like a prison…she'd have to make a choice, and now it was in her hands.

She glanced over at her mother. She'd no longer have the burden of spending every waking moment watching over someone, trying to keep her safe. As much as Nicole had sacrificed, her mother had done so equally. She'd not worked outside of the home for more than five years, and now she'd be able to…but what would she do? She could join Nicole at the tavern, that was a given. But then what of their lives? Were they destined to be in the service of a fungible mass of humanity never having opportunity to form lasting relationships?

Nicole shook her head. This was not their city…this was not their life, yet she could hardly imagine any other…not after this number of years. Oh how cruel was fate? To have deposited them there, abandoning the only life they'd known, and now the reason for their presence was snatched from them.

"Food for Worms." Her grandmother's favorite quotation from Benjamin Franklin. She'd thought it odd that her grandmother would quote that whenever she'd speak of her own death. She'd told Nicole the story every time she'd recite it, as though Nicole had never heard it before. "A young Benjamin Franklin, in his twenties, far before he'd done anything of consequence, penned his epitaph,

The body of

B. Franklin, Printer

(Like the Cover of an Old Book

Its Contents torn Out

And Stript of its Lettering and Gilding)

Lies Here, Food for Worms.

But the Work shall not be Lost;

For it will (as he Believ'd) Appear once More

In a New and More Elegant Edition

Revised and Corrected

By the Author.

Nicole smiled. Her grandmother had quoted it so often that Nicole had memorized it. How flippantly her grandmother had spoken of death. She'd come to terms with the idea years before. It had unnerved both she and her mother, but now, post-mortem, it was somewhat of a comfort to Nicole…..knowing her grandmother had been ready.

She sighed, closing her eyes. She needed rest. There was nothing she could do for anyone right now, for once, in a very long while, she could concentrate on caring for herself.

XXXXX

In the stable behind the tavern the old woman's body was prepared. Later in the day the stablemen would take her to the undertaker. The men had no desire to disturb the women, for surely they'd be resting now. They'd been through so very much…so very much.

The doctor walked back toward the tavern with the innkeeper in tow. "Your grandfather would be most impressed, I'm certain."

The young man looked at him with such query. "Sir, he'd not be at all pleased. I'd first wanted to be an undertaker. It had been my grandfather that had talked me out of such ideas. He'd said he wanted me to learn to preserve life, rather than dabble in death. Though I know the methods quite well, I can assure you there is nothing satisfying about this process. No one is ever happy to see you. I'm afraid my grandfather was quite right. He was a wise man sir. I could only hope to be as great a man as he."

The innkeeper nodded as he followed the doctor back into the tavern. They'd see to some breakfast, and then to some rest for the physician. Surely he'd have work to do with Nicole and her mother when they awoke.

**Author's Notes: **

**Captain Oblivious**: First, since you didn't mention it, I shall assume that everyone is alright, that thankfully, is the most important thing. Second….Oh no! Not Susie! It is a difficult thing when your first car, especially one that you've loved so much, has a foray into the darker side! Your friend should be willing to help you mend Susie if she is the one that was driving. Perhaps it is time to give dad a call….he always did like Susie remember! It is difficult to be out of your own Country when things like this happen.

Yes, happy days are here again for Erik and Christine…well…at least one happy day…one very happy day…..

**PhantomsRogue**: Hugh Jackmann, yes, he too is quite a dish…I know what you mean. I saw him the first time in a movie with Ashley Judd, can't recall the name right now, it was something like 'Only You', but um, yes, he was quite handsome in that one too. There is simply something about a tall man with dark hair and a svelte frame…and then when they can get the all-too-serious look in their eyes, well….you know.

Congratulations on being an aunt again! It is fun to be an aunt…all the fun of being a "parent-type" without any of the responsibility! I do like the names your sister-in-law has chosen. Thank heavens she doesn't have the same penchant for names that some of the movie stars do lately…(Apple, Jett, etc.) Can you imagine…Apple? What will her next child be named, Apricot or no, no, how about Cappuccino!

Yes, I will check on your e-mail. I've no doubt in my mind it shall be an interesting one!

**WriterMuseoftheNight**: I chuckled when I read that you thought DeChagny would need to take up watercolor, especially since we all know how much he LOVES it! I do think you are right, it seems he too should have a name…but what? He will be a hard one to name…it needs to be something tormented, deep, something that Claire would have been able to roll off her tongue with great abandon….hmmmm….I shall have to put my thinking cap on!

I smiled when I imagined, as you suggested, going to the cash register with thirty copies of POTO! They would think me quite mad! I must confess, I would probably just order from Amazon…that way the people can talk about how crazy I am without my ever having to show my face! LOL! Hey, I think Amazon even gift wraps…hmmm…I think I can hear my credit card balance climbing already!

Yes, poor Meg, Madame Giry…..sometimes the weight of a decision is so very heavy. No matter which way they chose they cannot win (sorry, stole that line from Erik from when he was putting the noose around Raoul's neck as he was lashed to the gate of his lair!). It will be difficult for the pair of women no matter what they do, they have to give up something or someone that they love. I do not envy them.

Now, as I have said many times before, you are rather good at picking through the story and figuring things out…but alas….I shall not confess to anything except to say that yes, Erik's birthday is coming soon……though he doesn't even know when that is!

**Phantomfan13**: I love to listen to music when I read, though for me, it has to be music without words or I am far too distracted. Sappy music would have been good for this last chapter though! Very clever thoughts regarding that locked drawer, and the basement, etc. You are a clever one! But no, I believe the drawer was locked by Erik, and it is likely something he's not even looked at for awhile…and as always…there is a reason for it.

Good, Good…I am happy that your class is going well. 86.5! It's not an easy subject, you should be most proud of yourself!

Yes, DeChagny's dream was sad…we've only seen the "old man" DeChagny, and we forget that he too was once young and impetuous… His summer of love, and loss, were no doubt a contributing factor to all the years that followed…because he had to stuff all those feelings…he had to harden his heart to get through it. Then, just when he thought he'd found happiness again…a second chance…his wife takes ill and dies, leaving him to raise their two children alone. Perhaps that is why he never married after she died. He'd become cynical about life, about love. Hmmmmm…sounds a bit like psycho-babble doesn't it? But, I do think it gives us some insight into why he is the way he is.

And last but not least…all the possibilities that you suggest. How sweet things could be if it were a perfect world….but alas it is a flawed one, and no greatness is achieved without a struggle.

**Phantomlover05**: It is good that you feel relieved…I did myself once he put his arms around her…my chest was heaving up and down and I could….well….just feel the love! There is something about being parted that makes being together even more sweet…seems strange I know, when it should be the opposite, but how can we judge an emotion that we have no control over? Hmmmm….

Glad to send a warm fuzzy your way….it was one for me too!

**Tex110**: I laughed, yet again, at your "bee" story. I have a happy dance that I do when I am as excited as you describe yourself being. If anyone saw me they'd think I was insane I've no doubt in my mind! I also love your new found term, (Selective Hyperactivity Disorder) it quite aptly describes what you were talking about….and I think it should be added to they annals of Psychology don't you? It is something that normal people do when we are excited by something….hey, Tom Cruise might be the first to demonstrate for us since he's become quite good at it! LOL!

Oh, by the way, if your sister can hear again, please tell her I'm sorry….it was my fault you were shrieking!

**DancingDragon42**: Welcome back! We've missed you! I am happy to hear that I helped preserve your sanity. It was so hard for him to be away…and now…he's so very happy to be home! As for Madame Giry, I know what you mean. She is someone who would never allow us to feel sorry for her, so we have to do it in silence…the sacrifice that some people make to keep others safe and happy. It just makes you want to reach in and give them some happiness doesn't it?

**Draegon-fire**: A reunion of the two friends will be, as you suggest, bittersweet. So much has changed for those women since last they'd laid eyes on each other! I can only imagine what Meg will say when she finds out about the babies! Will it make it easier for her to openly confess her love for Raoul? Since baring children is the ultimate expression of love and commitment, it may help Meg to make her decision without worry that Christine is harboring any feelings for Raoul. Just a thought.

**Batteredchild**: I'm glad to hear that at least my absence this week will help you have more time to study….it makes it a bit easier for me knowing that I'm going to be contributing in a strange way to your academic endeavors! LOL!

It is my hope that Tuesday's chapter will be a long one!


	142. Tender Moments

Chapter 141 Tender Moments 

Erik gently stroked Christine's back. She lay across his chest, running her hand lazily up and down his stomach. She'd not tarried on the places that had been lightly bandaged, he'd said he would tell more of it when he was ready.

Though the sun tried desperately to peek around the edges of the curtains, Erik and Christine paid it no mind, they'd let nothing disturb them. They'd been caught up in the moment, enraptured by their love. There was something special about being in that room, under the pretense it was night. It was a guilty pleasure that none would admit to, but enjoyed beyond words. Neither had cause to rise, nor would they.

Erik began running his fingers through Christine's long chocolate brown tendrils. They were as soft as the petals of newly blooming roses. Erik lifted a handful of them to his face, inhaling the heady fragrance.

Christine smiled. "Erik, you spoil me entirely too much." She said as she slid up from his chest, nestling her head on his shoulder, kissing his chin, his cheek.

Erik smiled, running his hand along her shoulder. "I've no idea what it is that you refer to my dear. I can promise you, there is nothing that you could ask for that I shan't give you. I shan't call that spoiling, when in fact it is you that I owe everything."

Christine laughed, "whatever do you mean Erik? How is it that you've provided everything I might need, even the food that I now have in my stomach, and yet you say that you've not spoiled me? I shan't want for anything, you've thought of every detail down to the fragrant oils that now adorn my hair."

Erik laughed a bit, sliding down further beneath the covers until he came to rest on the pillow next to her. He looked into her eyes, as he ran his hand along her cheek, her chin. Leaning over to kiss the tip of her nose. "My dearest Christine, how is it that you cannot see that you've given me everything but the very breath of life itself?" Erik's eyes held Christine's in a serious but loving gaze. He put the palm of his hand to rest along her cheek.

"Christine, I shall never cease in reminding you how you saved me from a certain demise. A lonely existence, full of nary a thing but loathing and a hunger for vengeance. My heart was cold, hard, and full of hate. But for the fact that I'd a pulse, I was as good as dead already."

Christine looked at him with such compassion. How could one so passionate, so intense, so strong, feel as though he were dead, when he was more alive than anyone she'd ever known? She smiled at him sweetly, and though his words humbled her, made her blush, she could not look away. He was feeding her deepest desire to be loved completely. It was the sweetest nectar for the heart she could ever imagine.

Erik slid ever closer to her. They both lay on their sides, looking deeply into one another's eyes. He ran his hand from her cheek, gently, tenderly, slowly, down her neck, her shoulder.

Christine shuddered, closing her eyes for a fleeting second. Her reaction causing Erik to smile. It was one thing to love another, but to see the pleasure in their eyes at your touch, was exhilarating. His hand continued its' descent to her collarbone, the center of her torso, until it came to rest just below her navel.

"And now, you carry our children….OUR CHILDREN Christine." Erik said it with such emphasis, it nearly undid her. "I never imagined I'd have a family to love…to care for…to head." Erik's lips quivered. "There will never be words sufficient enough to describe my gratitude, my love for you for willingly giving yourself to me Christine. Love was but a vapor, an elusive dream, one I dared not venture into lest I go completely mad for the lack of it." He ran the finger from his other hand along her jaw. "Christine you'll never know from what depths you saved me. Darker than one could ever imagine… a time and place far worse than hell itself."

Erik blinked. He'd not cry…he'd not cry… So much of those memories he'd repressed, and yet every day in recent months, he'd fought with those emotions. It was as if that which were dead inside of him cried out to live.

"Christine, do not ever doubt that if I should live to be one hundred that even that would not be long enough for me to repay my heart's debt to you. How is it that you cannot see that I would do anything for you, provide anything for you, when you've given so much of yourself…your very life to me?" His eyes hungrily searched hers for some recognition that she'd accept that he was in her debt, not she in his.

Christine put her index finger to Erik's lips. "Shhhhhh…my dear Erik…shhhh…." His lips began to quiver. How could she tell him he was wrong…in his heart he felt it right, just as she did in hers… Christine's lips were trembling. How could she tell him that she was the one that felt blessed? That he'd given her the seed of his love that she might produce the greatest evidence to the world of her love for him? She would try….

They lay looking a long while into each other's eyes. Then, Christine began. "My dear, precious, Erik, this will no doubt be an issue upon which we shall have to agree to disagree. Your words, though true, do not tell of the feelings in my heart."

Erik tried to protest, but Christine silenced him with a tender kiss before she continued.

"Erik, you've no idea how a woman feels when she is loved as I am loved by you."

Erik looked at her with such inquisitiveness. He'd never thought what it must be like for her to be loved by him. A monster turned monsieur, specter turned flesh, angel turned lover.

"Erik, all those long years that you loved me….all that you risked to be with me…abandoning the only home that you knew….willing to leave that life behind to embrace a new one…so that we might exist above the cellars that had become your comfort, your domain. I know you'd have preferred to stay there if it had been only your own concern…I know that you left there only for me. It was a great sacrifice, it was your kingdom. And I've no doubt that you miss it bitterly."

Erik's eyes were full…how is it that she'd come to love him so? That she understood him so? Could it be possible…he'd nearly felt like he was dreaming, though she'd told him hundreds of times that she loved him.

Christine's hand slid from Erik's cheek, down his breastbone, along his abdomen, and then gently to rest over his hand that still lay protectively over the lump that grew within her. "I would not be true to my heart if I did not tell you how it joys me beyond comprehension to carry your children. To feel them growing inside of me…" She paused, knowing full well that her next words would elicit his greatest protestations.

"Erik, the very honor, the privilege of baring the children of such a genius, a soul for the ages, my husband, my lover…is but a dream come true for me. It is you that have blessed me with this privilege Erik, bestowed upon me the honor of being your wife, the mother to your children. I owe all that I am now to you."

Erik's mouth tried to move beneath Christine's finger, she shook her head. "This will be a point to which we will have to agree to disagree my darling…I feel this so passionately in my heart…I love you my darling…" she kissed his lips, "I love you my husband," she kissed his jaw, "I love you…father to our children," she kissed his cheek, "and to that point you cannot deny me."

Erik sighed, his lips quivering as Christine lifted her finger from them.. "And now," she ran her other hand down his chest, joining their hands on her abdomen, interlacing their fingers, "I consider this to be the highest honor…to return your love…" A tear escaped Erik's eye, running down and pattering quietly on the pillow.

"I can only imagine how difficult it is for you understand Erik, but it is an honor to carry the children of someone so intense, with such talent, such brilliance….how could a woman with a love for music such as mine not want, nay long for such a mission?" Christine's voice faltered.

At first it was a silent tear. Then a quiet sob. Before long their tears were intermingled as Erik pulled her into his arms, protectively wrapping his arms around her drawing her into the safe expanse of his chest. The pair loved one another, so completely that they were of one mind, both believing in the depths of their heart that they were the blessed one.

They lay a long while drinking in the silence that was so loud it was deafening. Christine heard the water drip from the spout in the bathroom. She looked up at Erik. He smiled at her. The first time he'd joined her, it had been under different circumstances, in a much different place. This communal bathing had become something that provided comfort and pleasure to both of them.

Christine rose first, slipping from beneath the sheets. Her robe was tucked neatly in the wardrobe. She smiled playfully at Erik, tugging at the sheet that still lay on the bed, the singular cover that lay over his skin. At first he grabbed at it, but Christine quickly snatched at it, pulling it off the bed wrapping it about her middle.

Erik gave her a pained playful scowl. "I'll catch a chill…"

Christine smiled at him. "Then its best that you follow me quickly." Christine said, as she wandered over to the table picking up the tray carrying it toward the water closet. She sheepishly looked over her shoulder smiling at him….that infernal smile…..

Erik let out a low growl. The woman was toying with him yet again. Oh, how happy he was to be home. The other thoughts of the last day being pushed aside, in favor of savoring the sweetness of being home. Tomorrow would no doubt produce many opportunities to speak of such things, but for today, he'd focus on his reason for living, and that was already splashing about in the water beckoning him to join her.

XXXXXXXXXX

Raoul pulled several large blankets from beneath the seat on the sleigh handing one to Madame Giry and one to Meg, though he doubted she'd need it. Meg donned more fur than a bear. It was a bit cooler than he'd thought it would be, considering that the sun shone brightly in the sky. They'd ridden listening to the sleigh bells clattering. They'd tried to enjoy the scenery of the large fields that they drove through though the sun made it difficult. The glare off of the pristine white was nearly blinding.

It was not until they'd come to a large gathering of pines, pushing through the snow under the canopy of the branches, that they'd actually been able to look about.

Meg's eyes grew wide. "Raoul, it is so beautiful.

The deeper they went into the grove, the larger the pines became, so tall in fact that one could barely see the tops, and save a bit of light that could venture through the branches, it nearly blocked the sun. The lower branches of the pines had become barren for lack of light. Raoul's staff had already been out early that Spring trimming and pruning providing ample room beneath the trees to move about.

Raoul looked up at the trees, and then down at Meg. Her eyes were wide and sparkling blue, full of wonder. The white fur fluttering in the gentle winds. She looked like what he imagined of a snow angel. "Beautiful, yes…." He said as he stared at her….he couldn't have agreed more.

"My grandfather said that the trees were large here when he was a small boy, and that was at the turn of the century. His father used to drive his team of horses around this grove on his way into Paris. It is in part why I'd bought this bit of earth." Raoul looked around thoughtfully.

"He loved it so. He'd told me stories of when he was a young boy how he and his brothers, and their friends would come to this very grove because it was so unusual."

Madame Giry cocked her head, "unusual?"

Raoul smiled, "yes, you'll see what I mean in a few minutes." Raoul looked at Madame Giry, he needed to tell her. "I'm so glad you agreed to join us today, it wouldn't have been the same without you here."

Madame Giry returned his smile. She'd been pleased that he'd included her, as he shan't have had to.

Meg was still staring up at the tops of the trees, and around as the snow became lower and lower until they'd nearly reached dry ground. The sleigh stopped. The driver looking back at Raoul who nodded in turn.

The man came back lowering a stair for the ladies. Raoul immediately escorted first Madame Giry, and then Meg down to the earth that lay just inches below the small covering of snow.

"We shall go the small distance on foot. I'm afraid the sleigh shan't be able to travel beyond here." Raoul smiled as he extended his left arm to Madame Giry and his right to Meg.

They were walking through a group of trees, and some heavy dead vine. It appeared as though someone had chopped away an opening in the wall of tangled vines. They'd have to travel through single file.

"Madame Giry, if you do not mind," Raoul said as they came to the entrance. "May I allow Meg to enter first?"

Madame Giry smiled at him, he was always properly considerate. "Of course." She said.

He smiled at her in gratitude. Raoul stepped through looking around and then extended his hand to Meg.

She took it, the smile on her face was so wide it tugged at her cheeks reminding her of her stitches, she'd need to be careful. As she moved from one side to the other, her eyes grew in enormity, she'd never beheld such a thing.

Raoul smiled, it was obvious that Meg was duly impressed. He reached through the opening extending his hand to Madame Giry who joined them. There on the other side of that tangled briar, was a grotto. A soft spot of earth, the size of several parlors, a small cave looking as if it had spontaneously erupted from the earth. Large trees had grown together forming a nearly impenetrable canopy over the site. There was but a small coating of snow that lay on the ground there.

Meg glanced over to the left, a gentle flame catching her eye. Someone had ventured before them, building a fire in a stone enclosure just off to the side of the cave. Around it, they had placed several small log benches, each adorned with a thick horse blanket so as to provide cushion and warmth.

Raoul extended his arm to Madame Giry, and took Meg by the hand leading them over to the fire. The women sat down, the warmth of their clothing and that of the fire made it very comfortable.

"Has it always looked like this Raoul?" Meg inquired, trying to take in every inch of it with her eyes.

"My no. I must say it has been a bit of a project, a labor of love for me since my grandfather's passing. He'd told me what he'd envisioned of this place, and I've taken great pains to honor his wishes." Raoul paused, looking around at the haven. It truly had taken shape this last year.

"He had been so pleased when I'd told him that this was the property that I'd decided on. Truly my father thought me to be insane for living so far from Paris….but my grandfather understood, and in fact it was his final act of intersession on my behalf with my father before he died." Raoul smiled, a tear glinting in the corner of his eye. He sniffed.

"He'd been so pleased when I'd brought him out here on what would be his last visit to see me. I'd not had everything done properly yet, but the mere fact that I was working towards it gave him great pleasure."

Raoul was smiling. It was obvious to all that he'd loved his Grandfather DeChagny very much. "He told me so many stories of this place. As a boy they'd built a fort in that tree over there."

Meg and Madame Giry glanced over at the tree. A few scrappy boards still lay a remnant of the original. "I'd not the heart to take them down though they do look a bit shabby. Someday perhaps my son will be able to make use of them and rebuild that which his great-grandfather had built."

Meg blushed….she'd been imagining their children playing there when he was speaking of it. Raoul smiled at he squeezing her hand. "Then as young lads, he and his friends would bring the books that their parents had forbidden them to read, and they'd store them in a tin inside the cave. They'd lost a few to mildew he'd said. Then as they grew and all went their separate ways, this place lay silent and dormant. It wasn't until he'd met the woman who would one day be my grandmother, that he'd thought about that place again." Raoul smiled coyly at Meg.

Madame Giry had been looking around at the trees and had not noticed his sheepish glance.

Meg smiled at him, "what was it that made him recall this place then?"

Raoul was glad she had asked. She'd played right into his hand as though she were scripted to do so. "When the young men were going off to college, they met here for a final farewell. Then and there during that night, they'd set around this very fire, and made a pact."

That last statement causing both Meg and Madame Giry to return their attention to Raoul's face.

"A pact?" Meg inquired.

"Yes, they'd said that if they were anywhere even near Paris, that when they'd decided to marry, that they would bring their intended here to propose, thus a suitable transition from their childhoods spent here, to the men and father's they would become."

Meg shivered…it was like they were sitting on hallowed ground.

Madame Giry glanced back and forth between Meg and Raoul. Meg was averting her eyes, and Raoul was smiling at her hoping she would return his glance.

"So what know you of the pact after that night Raoul?" Madame Giry said.

He turned smiling at her. "There were six men here that night that made the pact. Of them one was killed in the war before ever marrying. Two of the others, one having gone to school in London, and the other somewhere in the Americas, had found women there and married without ever returning to Paris. My grandfather, and the two others that remained, returned here, all kept their oaths." Raoul smiled.

"My grandfather took great pleasure in telling me of his proposal to my grandmother. It had been a special evening indeed when he'd brought her here." Raoul started to laugh. "It is a wonder my grandmother married him at all. That night, just after he'd proposed, they were sitting holding one another by the fire. A bear happened upon them spooking their horse. Thankfully he was tethered or they'd have had a very long walk home, and much to explain to their parents. He was able to shoo the bear away. He'd been more curious than hungry grandfather said."

Madame Giry watched with fascination how animated Raoul had become as he told the story. This young man, she'd decided, was very reserved, but a gentle playful soul rested beneath the surface of the proper young man he'd grown to be, and that made her very happy…very happy for Meg.

"As it turns out, they'd ended their evening rather early, wandering back to the horse on a bit different route, one that took them directly through a patch of poison ivy!" Raoul began to laugh heartily. "Grandfather had to explain this to his parents who chastised him for taking that young woman out into the woods like that, really, what would people think! It did not deter my grandmother, nor grandfather, they were married that very fall!"

Madame Giry smiled at Raoul. "That is a wonderful memory Raoul, thank you for sharing it with us. I can see why this place would be most precious to you."

Raoul looked around, sighing as he looked up at the tall canopy of trees. "I'd like to think he watches over me here. I've come to talk to him here whenever I've something important to decide in my life."

Meg felt a shiver, nay a tingle run up her spine, and it wasn't from the cold.

Madame Giry's face turned a bit serious as she looked at Raoul once more. What was he implying?

Meg's respiration quickened. But they'd decided just last night…they'd wait…they'd take time to think….to be sure…had he changed his mind? Meg couldn't breathe.

Madame Giry suddenly felt out of place. Though they neither needed her blessing at this point, as she'd nearly given them as much not long before in that small room in Raoul's house, she hadn't expected that he would move so quickly.

Meg could not look at him. How could she accept without talking to Christine first, to Nadir, to Erik….her head was swimming.

Madame Giry stood. "If you'd not mind, I'd like to retrieve my muff, I've left it in the sleigh." She didn't wait for their reply, she simply turned and walked back through the opening in the growth. The driver of the sleigh accompanied her back to it.

Raoul came to rest on the bench next to Meg, taking both her hands into his. "Meg," he said, lifting her chin with his hand. "Do not be afraid Meg."

She felt like she would faint. He leaned in kissing her tenderly on the lips. "Dear sweet Meg, you know that I love you."

She could do nothing more than nod her head in agreement.

Raoul swallowed hard, looking back into her eyes. "Then, there is something I must speak with you about."

Meg nodded, stating the only words she would be able to for the next while. "I am here Raoul, whatever it is, I am here."

He smiled at her leaning in to kiss her cheek. His hands trembling slightly. He sighed nervously. Exhaling once more he looked back up into her eyes. "See that is good news, very good news."

**Author's Notes: **

**Dear Faithfuls**: Thank you once again for allowing me to go off for a few days. If it helps, please know that I terribly miss writing and hearing from you every day! I've left you with one cliffie (ouch) and a bit of E/C fluff, so I hope all will be forgiven. In my absence, be thinking about a good first name for DeChagny!

**Captainoblivious**: Glad to hear Susie is going to the doctor, and that her "medical" bills will be taken care of. Nice to have a guy friend around…please say it's not the guy who named the "Patmobile"….though real Pat would probably be o.k.!

Oh, as long as you threaten our dear Christine and Erik with your multiple arsenal of weapons (which no doubt includes your beloved Pauly Shore gun), I shall have to stand in the way protecting them…something of a literary sentinel if you will! LOL! Have a great week, and may this next week be less eventful than the last!

**PhantomsRogue**: Yes, another "stocking stuffer", OH MY there is a whole story revolving around that, but let us just say that there are certain people I would not mind finding in my stocking come Christmas morning! Someday, I may confess the story, but today is not the day! LOL! Oh, do not mind that your e-mails are long. I shan't object to anyone who writes something long….just look at the length of our story…and its not near its end! Have a great week, and I shall look forward to hearing from you!

**WriterMuseoftheNight**: I do like the name Gustav, though it is Christine's father's first name, so it might end up being a bit weird, sort of like another Erik/Erphan thing. There are so many good choices out there that I just cannot seem to find one that fully describes or fits this man. Hmmmm….

I have to agree, the look on the store clerk's face if I brought 30 POTO DVD's to the counter would be good….though I fear that they'd call some people in nice little white suits to come and get me! Off to the nut house!

Yes, "Music of the Night" could get a plug in there more often if I didn't think the readers would object. Can you just imagine having him sing that to you….. I'm melting…I'm melting….."

Yes, our dear little foal has a purpose, and I am glad to see I have your mind working at a reason for its presence. Hmmmm you are a clever one! LOL!

The similarities between Nicole and Meg are a little startling aren't they. It is difficult to think of what girls during that day had to endure. Obligations, arranged marriages, or marriages of financial convenience were all the thing then…love sometimes had little to do with marriage, especially among the aristocrats! I do not think you need worry of that distant young man in Nicole's past…I've no intentions of giving him a name, which is a sure sign he shan't be causing any trouble for them….though wait…have I ever given a name to that Crawlings boy? Hmmmmm…… Laughs and wanders off to her computer

I did like your "past the point of no return" parlay…. That is how I feel about this story. Just when I think it is moving in one direction, it takes me in another, and the end keeps moving farther and farther off….but alas…I've given myself up to it…I too am past the point of no return! Have a great rest of the week!

**Poetzproblem**: Yes Raoul does need to be needed….he's rather needy that way….LOL! I do think he'd be one of the most patient understand men to be married to, almost akin to a doormat of sorts. He no doubt will lavish whomever he marries with everything, though he will want a considerable amount in return. Too strong willed, or self-sufficient a woman would not suit him well. He wants someone he can take care of, and likes to be taken care of. Yet another reason that Christine would likely have been too much for him to handle…she's a bit too independent for him! Have a great rest of the week!

**PhantomLover05**: I think that Meg is just realizing how handsome he really is to her. You know how that is. Someone can be handsome…but when they become "yours" they grow even more handsome? Confusing…? Sorry, I even get lost inside my brain sometimes….. Have a great week!

**Batteredchild**: Thank you for the compliment. I hope that this chapter provided a bit more fluff, and a bit of happiness, though I think I might be drawn and quartered for leaving such a cliffie! Have a great week!

**NordyGirl**: Welcome to the Phamily! We hope your stay with us will be a long and happy one. Thank you for the compliment on the story. It has been a great pleasure and privilege for me to share this with our Phamily.

Now, as you no doubt have read by now, it has become something of a tradition that I give one attempt at guessing the origins of your tag name. Most often I'm wrong, but it's fun anyway!

Hmmm…Nordy…I'm thinking Nordic…perhaps you are from the Netherlands….or perhaps some Scandinavian country? Or, perhaps you are an avid skier? If you are willing please do share. We always like learning a bit more about our newest Phamily members!


	143. And Time Stood Still

Chapter 142 And Time Stood Still 

She finally moved away from the window. Having sat there all morning since the sun first peeked through the clusters of clouds that dotted the sky. Her maid had come and gone, depositing a small press of espresso at her side. She'd barely sipped a bit from her demitasse. A shallow dish of peaches lay next to it. She'd toyed with them and the petite gâteau (biscuit), but in the end she'd abandoned them both. Uncharacteristic of her, they were her favorite.

She sighed heavily. Walking away from the window was the hardest thing she did each day. It had become her obsession really, as though her waiting and watching would hasten the arrival of that which she knew forlornly, would likely never come to pass.

She paused, resting her hand along the deep rich wood of her grandfather's piano. He'd been a beautiful musician. Dark and melancholy though his music was, it had been powerful and moving, causing all those who listened to it to be captivated in a reverent hush. He'd been an obscure creature, always hiding in the shadows, a sensitivity to light had been the cause he'd told her. He'd taught her to love music, and to play the instrument she now paid homage to each day. His piano was her sole companion these days, she'd little need for conversation. Her music was her voice. Slowly she walked around to the other side, coming to rest on the tufted seat. She closed her eyes, running her hands along the ivory keys. "Hello my darlings….mommy's home."

Her eyes met with the mirror that lay along the wall opposite where she now sat. She'd done this several times a day for as many years as she'd lived in Chauesser. There was something entirely reassuring about this methodical part of her life. The only thing that had changed in all those years was the reflection in the mirror. Her heart still had a deep sense of loss, of desperate longing, though she'd gradually begun to come to terms with it these last years. It was the only continuity she had left. With the passing of her mother, all her family now gone, she but waited…waited until the day he returned, or she went home to heaven joining those that had gone on before her…if heaven would even have her.

XXXXXXX

The doctor paced back and forth. The man's wife still slept. She'd been up half the night, and he'd administered a final dose of medicine just hours ago. She had to rest. The men that had tarried the night before were even now preparing a sled so as to take the woman's husband on to LeMortem street for proper attention.

He sighed. He himself would be needing to find a sleigh of some sort to return to Raoul's to check on Meg, and to warn Raoul of the dangers he'd heard of from the dying man's own lips. The doctor stretched, turning his head about on his shoulders allowing his neck to flex here and there. It was tight and painful, no doubt a reaction to having slept so awkwardly in the chair. Though he didn't imagine the stress of worry helped matters at all.

He looked up as he heard the stamping of boots in the foyer. "Ready doctor." He nodded. The two retrieved the man's body, carrying it out the door. The doctor watched through the window as they affixed him like cargo on the back of the sleigh. Then the men sat down donning two pairs of snow shoes. The stable had yet to be dug out from behind the house….alas…this is something this man would have tended to had he still been alive. LeMortem street was not far off, the pair would pull the small sleigh their under their own power. They were sturdy and young, the doctor thought. No more of a burden than hauling logs in from the woods. He watched until he saw the sleigh pull up out of the ravine of snow and disappear beyond the crest. Now all he had to do was wait for the woman's sister to arrive, and he himself could be off. Surely a sleigh would be available somewhere in this city! He walked back to his coffee cup. His eyes widened, "yes of course, the Opera House!" Raoul had said his father was there everyday no matter the weather. Surely now that the sun shone, the man would make his way there at some point. The workman no doubt had been stranded by the storm and would even now be making use of this isolation to complete their tasks. The doctor knew Raoul's father well enough to know that he'd not let much happen without his scrutiny and supervision.

Yes, he decided. He could make his way on snow shoe to the Opera House from there, and ride back with his father. Perhaps Raoul would be kind enough to put him up for the evening if it were too late to return to the City.

XXXX

The shopkeeper's brow was beaded with sweat. His entire family, including his youngest daughter had been out helping to clear away snow from the front and back of the mercantile. No doubt the citizen's of Chauesser would be wanting everything they could lay their hands on. Though the storm had been only a few days, and truly none would have run out of the basic necessities, there was nothing like a good storm to send them flocking to the mercantile. For some it was an excuse to get out of doors after being cooped up for so long, for others it provided opportunity to converse about this detail or that of the storm. There was always gossip of some sort or another after a storm, and he knew this one would be no different…it never was.

He was brushing off the final remnants of snow from the front boardwalk when what would be his first customer traveled down the side of the drift rather eagerly. "Did you hear?"

"Bonjour Kevin, what is this you speak of?" he said busily sweeping up the last of the snow.

"The old woman, the man?"

The shop keeper paused, resting his elbow on the handle of the broom, "what man, what old woman?" Gossip was not something he partook of, but he never minded knowing the different versions of the truth that floated about their city.

"Nicole's grandmother…she's dead sir.."

The shopkeeper spun round leaning the broom against the wall. "Dead? And of what man do you speak?" His heart beating quickly thinking it to have been some heinous deed performed by the likes of Sebastian or Pyotr.

"The man, the new man who lives in that house just beyond the city."

His eyes grew wide, "Monsieur Courtland?" Surely he'd not had the blood of that woman on his hands, he'd not seemed the type, though he'd heard rumor that she had been a nuisance to him when he visited the city.

"Yes," said the young man, "he'd come into the city, and he found her." He slid the rest of the way down the side of the hill, now standing in front of the mercantile stomping his boots. The shopkeeper stood looking at him inquisitively. "Monsieur DeLarange had driven his sled out to the man's house looking for her…" he stammered, "let me explain…..the woman had gone missing in the middle of the night as Nicole worked. When her mother awoke the woman was gone, and they'd gone out looking for her. Nicole and DeLarange's daughter are close friends and he'd agreed to drive out to see if she'd tried to make her way out to the man's house. When he arrived the man had insisted he return with him to look for her."

The shopkeeper smiled, he knew his instincts about this man had been right. "And what of Francois, Joseph, and half the men at the inn, could they not have helped?"

The young man looked down at his boots, "I'll get to that part in a moment." His face looked serious. "He went out several times, checking back at the tavern. Finally Nicole and her mother went out looking for the both of them, as the man nor the old woman had returned."

The shopkeeper looked at the young man again. "What man in their right man would have allowed those two women to go out into that storm, did they accompany them?"

The young man looked down shaking his head. "No, I'm afraid not. After they'd been gone an hour they sent out a search party looking for the lot of them. It was feared they'd all be lost to the storm. Eventually they'd returned, the four of them frozen to within an inch of their lives, but still very much alive. The old woman, as I understand it, didn't last many hours. There was something to do with a rather large cut on her side, and broken glass, but I do not know more on that account. The man stood guard at her side until the doctor came to carry her away." The young man's face lit up. "But all of that is not the most intriguing part." He leaned in. "As I understand it he gave the entire inn a verbal lashing regarding honor, and the need of good men in the city, and the like. Some darned fool had suggested he was a hero and he'd nearly sliced him in two with his eyes! He left soon after, but the inn is all abuzz now regarding this new man of mystery in Chauesser, saying he is just the sort of man that this city has been sorely in need of. Though a word of caution, if you do see him, refrain from the use of the word hero, lest you fall to a similar fate as those who are still licking their wounds at the tavern!" The young man being quite pleased with himself, turned and started up the snow once again.

The shopkeeper called after him. "Is there nothing I might do for you Kevin…are you in need of anything?"

He called over his shoulder. "No sir, I just thought you would like to know. No doubt your shop will be swarming with people within the hour, and it shall be a topic of conversation!" He said, waiving as he disappeared over the hill.

The shopkeeper shook his head, smiling. He'd been right about Monsieur Courtland. Something in his gut had told him he'd be an honorable man. His thoughts now traveled to poor Nicole and her mother. When the weather improved he'd send off a package to them. Surely they could benefit in the coming days of some cheering.

XXXXX

He held his niece in one arm, his nephew in the other, rocking back and forth humming to them in a low soothing tone. He'd wanted to spend every minute with them that he could until the weather permitted his travels back to the winter house of Monsieur Courtland.

The doctor was filled with such emotion. To have delivered his own sister's children had been an honor. And now, as he held them in his arms, providing their parents some much needed rest, he could only imagine what it would be like for Elizabeth and Stephan to have a trio of babes to look after.

He smiled as his niece looked up at him. He knew full well that she was merely responding to his voice, not yet being able to focus with her eyes, but still he felt like she was watching him. She was a beautiful baby. The most beautiful he'd ever had the pleasure of bringing into this world. Her brother was fast asleep. He was the older of the siblings by four minutes only. Making his arrival with lungs fully employed from his first breath, he'd needed no encouraging. He was fully a half a kilogram heavier than his sister, no doubt he'd taken the lion's share of the nourishment in the womb. He rocked contentedly back and forth by the warmth of the fire. Everyone in the house was napping except him, and he dared say, they all needed it.

His mind wandered to Stephan. He'd want to have another peek at his cheek soon. He'd intended to deliver the next series of salves to him, to keep the new skin healthy and free from the growths that had claimed it before. He'd felt like such a butcher, carving about on his face while he'd slept. His wife had agreed to it, though he'd not liked doing so without consent from the man himself.

The man was his masterpiece, a tribute to his medical training and all the extra hours he'd spent studying the science of medicine. His classmates had chided him on numerous occasions, that he should spend more time with them than the books he always seemed to carry about beneath his arms. He'd had to admit on more than one occasion that he was a bit of a loner, and preferred a text to any other activity. In the end it had proven to be the wiser of the two choices. He'd have the remainder of his life working with people.

The honor of being a physician came with great responsibility. To do no harm….was to know everything about the shell that housed their spirits. In the end, it had been sacrosanct when he'd taken his Hippocratic oath. Indeed his extra hours spent talking with visiting physicians, reading medical journals from all over the world, and observing surgeries during his free hours, had allowed him to learn what he'd needed to in order to help this man. His hope was that it would improve his life, allow him a sort of normalcy that he'd never known. That was the dream beyond the oath. To first do no harm, and then to do all one can to improve one's quality of life.

The doctor looked down at the children that lay in his arms, now both fast asleep. No doubt Elizabeth would worry, or if not she, then surely Stephan would worry that a similar fate would befall one or more of the children she now carried. It was an odd sort of benefit that the father to those children would have provided an opportunity for the physician to learn how to treat this condition. If it was caught from the first, he'd be able to keep it from disfiguring a young child. Knowing the man as he did now reassured him. If for nothing more than that purpose alone, he'd have agreed willingly to an experiment if it meant being able to spare his children from suffering.

He leaned his head back to rest on the tall back of the chair. As he did he saw that his sister was standing in the shadows of the doorway watching him. He smiled at her.

She began to walk towards him. "Are they both…"

He nodded his head, whispering, "yes, both sleeping."

She stood next to him looking down. "I don't know that I ever thanked you properly."

He turned his head back up towards hers. "You've no need to thank me," he looked down at the twins, and back up at his sister. "Being able to hold this healthy pair of children in my arms, is gratitude enough!"

She smiled putting her hand on his shoulder. "Here, let me take him," she reached down plucking her son from his arms. She carried him off to the bedroom, returning to take her daughter.

Her brother smiled at her, stretching just a bit. His arms had grown rather numb being in a bent position as they were for such an extended time.

It wasn't long before his sister returned, closing the door to the bedroom behind her. She wandered into the kitchen, returning with a snifter of cognac, handing it to her brother. She'd poured herself a cup of tea. She sat down in the chair across from his, rocking by the fire. "It is most pleasant isn't it?"

He nodded, glancing out the window. The sky had grown rather overcast in the last hour, making the glow of the fire more enjoyable still.

"Now do tell me of the young woman you spoke of earlier…the one you said was expecting a trio?"

Her brother smiled at her, "we're not really to speak of one patient to anyone my dear sister, you know that."

She smiled at him. "Yes, yes, I know, and truly I do not know who she is now do I?"

He laughed, "no, that is true." He sighed beginning to rock back and forth. "I worry for her. She'd shared with me on our most recent visit that her own mother did not live long beyond childbirth, a difficult delivery had been the cause. It had been her first, and that was with one child only. Now she carries three, and undoubtedly that increases the chance for an undesired outcome, if not for the children, then certainly the mother. She is young, and she is healthy." He laughed once more, "and she has a hopelessly devoted husband to care for her every need."

His sister smiled at him as she sipped her tea. "Dear brother, if you would desire, at some point in the future, to permit it, I shan't mind talking to her if she wishes for some encouragement. It is a difficult enough thing to carry one child, but two, or yet a third, well, that presents a special struggle. I shan't mind at all conversing with her if she's in need of it."

Her brother smiled at her. This young woman was an inquisitive one indeed, she just might enjoy visiting with his sister, and if she'd permit it and so desired, he'd make the arrangements for it when the weather was more favorable. Yes that made him breathe a bit easier. She no doubt would like that very much.

XXXXX

"Now tilt your head back," Christine said, as she finished gently working the lather through Erik's hair. It was tinged a bit pink, but she'd not ask. There had been a considerable amount of blood in it, though Christine had rather slyly been inspecting his scalp, his ears, his neck as she'd rubbed her hands over them. The blood was not his.

Erik was entirely relaxed, his knees slightly bent as he laid with his head leaned back against Christine's breastbone. She'd nearly lulled him to sleep with her gentle hands as she hummed a tune they both knew well. The room was filled with fragrances, floral notes, those of spice, and vanilla, and yet a hint of musk. It was a heady combination capable of seducing even the most reticent creature into submission. The candles made the bubbles glisten, and the warmth of the water, intermingled with the relief in being in her arms was, for Erik, euphoric.

He'd complied, leaning his head back gazing up into her soft smile as she took a small pitcher pouring water over his hair rinsing it clean. He closed his eyes, not for fear that she'd wet his yet tender eyes, but from the sheer pleasure this simple gesture produced. It was nothing more than a physical act of purpose, but yet it communicated so much to him. She was willing to love him without prejudice, understand his needs without question, comfort him…when he needed it without request.

She finished the last pitcher, taking one of the soft cloths dabbing up the few drops of water that had gone astray. She leaned over as best she could manage, putting a kiss on the top of his forehead. He reached his hand up behind him, placing it behind her neck, rubbing it and her shoulder. Christine closed her eyes, his hand was warm, his touch was gentle yet firm. She ran her hands down either side of his neck, across his chest, and gently began to rub his shoulders. "You are relaxing, that is good."

He smiled, he was more relaxed than he'd even been willing to admit. She continued lightly running her hands along his neck, chest, and shoulders. She felt the grip of his hand slowly relax and eventually his hand about her neck had gone limp. She smiled. She reached up and slowly, gently removed his hand, lifting his arm slowly down and placed it back in the warmth of the water. She leaned her head back into the curve of the rest on the back of the basin. She'd let him soak, warm, if for but a little while. No doubt he was in need of it. She had time to think, he in her arms, she no longer needed to worry about him. He was there, he was with them.

She glanced over at the window that had been so carefully covered by the curtain. She could tell the sun had diminished a bit, but it was still light outside. In truth she had little care as to what time it might be.

She sighed, looking up at the ceiling in the water closet. Erik had spared no detail, not even on this small bit of plaster. He'd infused flecks of gold and silver in this painting, no doubt to take full advantage of the candlelight that he knew she would enjoy when in the bath. It was something that gentlemen often didn't understand about women. But there was so much that Erik understood, it astounded her. It was as if he'd imagined every detail, predicting with astonishing accuracy what she might want or need.

She began to gently run her hand up and down his shoulder, and then his chest. She heard a slight gurgle come from his lung, and then a jerk, as a series of coughs erupted from his chest. Erik, jolted from his contented slumber, sat straight up. The coughing seized him. It sounded so deep, so painful. Christine could do nothing more than rub his back until it subsided.

Erik's eyes were red again, he was wiping at his brow, apologize profusely. Christine had quickly hushed him. The water was cooling, it was time to find their way to something dry and comfortable. She decided, when he fell off to sleep she'd set out for the kitchen to make a poultice …she'd have to ask Madame Giry how to…. She shook her head…she wondered how often she would make that mistake. She'd have to find another remedy, perhaps one of the maids knew of something. There was always the menthol that the doctor had left behind if she could find nothing else. One thing she knew would certainly benefit him, was a bowl of that wonderful chicken stew that Misty had mentioned making for dinner that night. She'd check on that as well when she went downstairs. Her primary concern now was to get him warm and dry. Mother nature would take him into slumber, he was so in need of rest, she'd knew his body would not be able to resist the temptation once properly reclined.

XXXX

Madame Giry stood nervously by the side of the sleigh. She sighed, she knew she had no control over what was happening just a few dozen meters from her. She looked up at the sky. The clouds had begun to blot out some of the sun, a perfect afternoon would soon turn chilly if the sun was once again hidden from view.

Absolutely nothing had remained normal since the day Raoul first arrived at the Opera Populaire. It was not Raoul's doing, it was simply fate in motion, moving people about at will like pawns on a the great chess board of life. When he arrived Christine had become distracted. The other chorus girls, including her own daughter admired him, blushing and whispering whenever he'd be about, which was often enough for Madame Giry's taste. His mere presence had interrupted more than one of her practices.

Erik had become frustrated with his presence as well. He'd usurped Erik's authority in some instance with placement of props on the stage, the handling of certain musical scores and the like. They'd have been at odds from the beginning, even if Christine hadn't factored into the tension. Raoul was kind but firm, preferring to proffer compliance through gentle submission out of respect rather than commandeering it as his father did. He'd not use the good name of DeChagny in such a way, he preferred to earn it.

Madame Giry glanced over toward the opening. It was absolutely silent. She thought back to the first time that Erik had mentioned Raoul's name to her as he'd paid her a visit one night under the cloak of darkness. She recalled his words with great clarity "What are that boy's intentions?" She'd sensed his dislike for him, but it had never been quite so pointed. Erik wasn't accustomed to feeling threatened in what he considered to be his domain. He'd not spoken of him directly to her again, though she saw evidence of his presence on a more frequent basis whenever Christine was concerned. Now he had his Christine, and he shan't have worried, she'd belonged to him all along, and though she'd been distracted, she'd never abandoned him. Now, the very man he'd been so jealous of was sitting with her daughter. Though it was entirely different, she could now more compassionately empathize with what Erik must have been feeling….Raoul was making plans to part her with someone she loved and needed. She leaned against the sleigh. There was nothing to do but wait now.

XXXXX

Meg was shivering though not from the cold, because she'd never felt more warmed through in her life. Raoul seemed to her to be more nervous than she, if that were indeed possible. He took her right hand. Taking turns looking down at her hand that he now caressed and into her eyes. He'd not really known where to begin.

"Meg, my dear Meg," he turned looking her in the eye. Though his voice was uncertain, he was not, he knew what he had to do. His gaze was soft but serious, intent but loving. She blushed so heavily she thought her cheeks were on fire. He reached up running the back of his knuckles along her cheek. She started to protest, but Raoul brushed his finger across her lips. "Meg so very much has happened in our lives these last months. It is difficult to recall some events without drawing a tear. Fate has brought us to this place, and I've no doubt that things are as they should be, though the path to this place has been an uncertain and uneven one at times. I've brought you to this place, as I have something most serious to discuss with you."

Meg felt her heart race as Raoul reached his hand into his pocket, withdrawing a small red velvet box. She closed her eyes quickly, reminding herself to breathe.

"Meg, I know that we've discussed this. That we, you and I, needed more time." His voice quivered. "I've no want to rush you Meg, and I shan't."

Meg nearly stopped breathing, what had he said? She furrowed her brow, her lips began to tremble. "I don't understand."

He took her right hand, and slipped from the bench kneeling before her. "Meg, this is a very special place for me. I've not shared it with more than a few people in this world. That is why I've brought you here today."

She looked at him with such pained eyes. What was he trying to say?

"Meg, I've no want to rush you, but I do want to make quite plain my intentions." He raised the red box looking at it and then at her. "What I have here is dear to my heart, just as you are. It belonged to my grandmother."

Meg felt faint. She didn't know what he intended.

"Meg, I am not asking you make a decision today, and I know it shall be a time before you are ready to do so." He opened the box, retrieving a small band inlaid with emeralds. He took her right hand into his. "Meg, what I do ask of you is to consider in your heart over the coming months if you could one day agree to be my wife. If you are willing to consider this in your heart, would you wear this band, on your right hand, as a symbol of our devoted friendship, no matter the outcome, for the two of us, of the commitment we now share?"

Meg looked at Raoul. She was both relieved and exhilarated all at once. "Raoul, I shan't be able to take this as my own…if our decision is different than what we now expect, I shan't want to deprive your family of something so precious."

Raoul smiled, "Meg, if you should decide in the end, that this was not meant to be, you've but to put it in this red box and return it to me. During the time you are deciding, I wanted you to have something special from me, from my heart, that would remind you of how very much I love you."

Meg looked at Raoul with such pleading eyes. She smiled at him. Raoul's lips no longer trembled. He took the ring, kissing it before he slipped on to the fourth finger of her right hand.

Meg smiled widely. It was a beautiful ring, but even more enamoring was the sentiment. He wanted her to know that he was serious, that he loved her, but….that he was willing to wait for her. She leaned towards him and he rose grasping her in his arms, lifting from her feet.

"Meg my darling Meg," he whispered in her ear as he returned her to her feet.

"Raoul, it is beautiful, no doubt your grandmother loved it so." Raoul's smile tipped just slightly, a melancholy glance that was fleeting. "My grandmother never had opportunity to wear it. She passed on just before her birthday that year. He'd saved it thinking one day he might be able to pass it on to someone. When I was a young man, just out of university, he gave it to me with a solemn promise that I would one day give it to a woman who captured my heart as my grandmother had captured his."

Meg was completely undone. She slipped her arms beneath Raoul's as she leaned in to his chest. Raoul sighed, embracing her protectively. His mother had been right….she was the one.

**Author's Notes:**

**Dear Faithfuls**: I am exceedingly happy to be home! Sometimes being away is more painful than one can imagine! This chapter is a bit longer than the rest, but it was needed wouldn't you say! Thank you for being patient with me!

**PhantomsRogue**: I do rather like the name Phillipe….it sounds sort of snooty and highbrow, something I imagine that would personify this man perfectly! Merci, Merci! Yes, Raoul seemed to be up to something. I hope I am painting an accurate picture of Raoul. He isn't exactly wishy-washy, but he is a bit unpredictable, something no doubt, Erik would find entirely annoying! LOL! But, a personality that will suit Meg quite well. He is a little deeper, and perhaps a bit more sentimental than passionate, if that makes sense. He is deep into heritage, which, could come in handy later……hmmm…the grotto…the heritage….sounds promising doesn't it?

Our dear, dear, Christine and Erik. I do love when they are together, though I don't know if I will ever get more descriptive about their encounters. Some things are far to private.

I confess I've not checked my e-mail, but I will, in the next couple of days, I promise. It is so good to be home….there is nothing like sleeping in your own bed, and waking up and knowing you are safe.

**Phantomlover05**: I think Meg thinks Raoul is even more handsome now than he was before. No doubt she'll think of him every time she looks at that ring….and I think that is exactly what he wanted. Though he would be out of sight when she was gone, he didn't want to be far from her mind.

**Nordygirl**: I loved your explanation of your tag name. Nordstroms is a favorite of mine, not only to shop in, but I really like the principals of the company itself…too much to explain here, but I agree it is a great place to shop! Russian? Really? I have a close friend whose father is now retired, but he was a Russian interrogator for the US. Though he cannot tell us much, there was so much about the beauty of the language and the country….

I have to tell you as I read your last review, I was playing the music in my head as I read your poem! It is so cute…it made me smile madly! Thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart! I am so very happy that I have been able to share this story with others, and that it is something that they find enjoyable!

**Phantomfan13**: Now we can see what Raoul was up to. He didn't want Meg to be wandering off without knowing how very much he loved her…and without some sort of reminder of how much he wanted her in his life. He's a bit more sentimental than passionate, but he's a good fit, I think, for Meg, as she isn't as intense as Christine is. As far as the questions, yes, you did ask many good ones, but if I answer them, I might spoil the suspense, and I think we all know how much I love it! Yes, I do think that Meg carries a heavy burden, and I cannot promise that this little peaceful bubble she's been in will last forever hmmmm…

**Batteredchild**: Yes, I was an evil cliffie hanger wasn't I? It wasn't intended, it just ended up that way, honest! It will be interesting if and when Meg and Christine can finally see each other once again, though it might be just a little while yet…I wish I could say more. But I can just imagine what kind of a reunion it will be….so many secrets, so much going on in both of their lives.

**Regina Halliwell**: Good to hear from you my dear! Yes, our beloved Erik is finally back in Christine's loving arms….sighs dreamily But peace can be a tricky thing…for true peace to exist, there has to be an absence of conflict, and we know that isn't going to happen for this couple any time soon! Do stay in touch!

**Tex110:** Thank you for the compliment! I do try to have a bit of research added in, just to make it a bit more realistic, but I certainly have taken a few liberties about society, customs, etc., just to add a bit of color to the story! I am glad you are enjoying it! It makes me smile to know others are smiling with me!

**Faeriecatcher1**: YEAH! You finally caught up to us! I've been waiting to welcome you into the Phamily…and now we can! So, welcome! We hope your stay with our little Phamily will be a long and happy one. Thank you for investing so many hours into reading the story this far. It is no small commitment to read a story of this length! Thank you for your compliments. I do feel very strongly about the bond that Erik and Christine share, it is what they call a GREAT love…I am so very happy that this comes through in the story. It works inside of my brain, I'm not always that certain that it comes out that way on "paper", so thank you. And thank you for joining us on this wild adventure.

Now, as has become our tradition, we must take a guess at your tag name. There are so many adorable movies with fairies….and yet….I wonder, the name catcher. Perhaps it implies that you like to catch, study, and release water sprites, or…that it is something a bit darker, you like to catch and collect them. Hmmmm….it is very likely that neither of the guesses is correct, so please, if you will, do share with us.


	144. Obligations

**Chapter 143 Obligations…silent or implied**

Christine leaned Erik forward, kissing him tenderly behind the ear. "My dear, we best get you into bed. You need to rest, you need to tend to that cough that sounds to have settled in your lungs." She rubbed his shoulder, her hand coming to rest over his chest. She could feel the rattling in his lungs beneath the palm of her hand.

Erik was tired, and the thought of the warmth of the bed, with Christine in his arms sounded like the most pleasant thing he could imagine. "Say you'll join me?" He smiled as he watched Christine wrapping herself in a bath sheet.

She smiled at him as he stood shivering, standing up to his knees in the warmth of the water, the remainder of his flesh exposed to the air. She lifted a large, soft, towel for him, nodding as he climbed out of the basin leaning down to allow her to slip it about his shoulders. "But of course, how else are we to get you warm?" She smiled at Erik. "This last month has left me in a bit of wonder about this body I now live in. I've been so warm, with the exception of last night after dinner, I could not seem to find a way to warmth no matter that I tried."

Erik grimaced, that had been when he'd been out in the snow with that woman, and he'd been freezing…she had sensed it. The connection that he and Christine shared now was beyond that of husband and wife. Beyond teacher and pupil. Beyond that which was prayed for and that which was delivered. There was a connection that was far beyond anything he'd ever known. His pain had been her pain. His love, her love. His hopes had been her hopes.

Though he tried, bits of him still doubted that he'd had the right to such happiness…that he'd been worthy of it. Then there were times, like this very moment when he realized as he looked into the soul that shone in her eyes, they would have been connected in the deepest of ways, even if they'd never allowed themselves to surrender to it. This connection was beyond either of them, and every day, little by little, he allowed himself to believe.

"I think I've enough heat now to warm two bodies! Christine laughed. "Now," she said in a rather nursing tone, "let us see to getting you off into that bed".

Erik tried to feign reluctance but Christine saw through his ruse. As he stood next to the bed she retrieved a nightshirt, slipping it over his shoulders, placing a kiss on his cheek. She turned around, sliding her still damp skin into a thin nightgown. By her own professing she'd not needed much to keep her warm.

Erik watched with utter amazement. There was no part of this woman that he did not find truly beautiful, and these days, she seemed to glow from a radiance deep within. Watching her as she moved was like watching art in motion.

She pulled back the covers to their bed, climbing in, she reached out taking Erik's hand, beckoning for him to join her.

As he came to rest next to Christine, he felt her warm and gentle hands begin to rub his shoulders. He'd not even realized how sore and worn his body felt. It ached for the punishment it had endured. He'd exerted himself more than he'd thought.

Erik had drifted off into to a peaceful sleep under her magic touch the very first time she'd conveyed this kindness in the caverns below the opera house. The first time she'd touched his skin to bring him relief, his skin had tingled from the sheer sensation of compassionate touch. Then, she'd done so out of sympathy.

The warm hands that now touched his flesh, were that of a woman who loved him in the most definitive way possible. He was the man whose children she now bore in her very womb. He closed his eyes. He was hers to do with whatever she wished, and he trusted her implicitly.

Christine gently massaged each shoulder, grasping the bulk of the muscle and kneading it tenderly with her fingers until it yielded its tensions. Each arm, elbow, hand, and wrist, receiving the same careful, yet methodical attention. At the end of each finger, she lowered her lips to them, placing a tender kiss on each one. Then as carefully as she could, she slowly lowered his arm until it came to rest on the bed beside him, completely and utterly relaxed.

Her hands glided down the length of his back. His handsomeness was only furthered by his masculinity. If ever there had been a specimen that Walden should have examined for the epitome of manliness Christine thought, it would have been the man that now lay next to her. When he was in motion he was magic. When he was quiet and still as he was now, he was completely vulnerable. It was in those moments that Christine could admire the whole of him without his eyes searching her as to the purpose for her gaze. For truly there was no purpose in her gazings, other than sincere appreciation of that which her eyes beheld. The warmth and suppleness of his skin now devoid of the previous tautness beneath them, caused Christine to smile. She'd brought him that which she wished for him, comfort and peace. Slowly, Erik had given in to her touch.

The kindness of his wife, the safe harbor of her husbands arms, a perfect place for both. Soon the pair lay fast asleep in one another's arms. As Christine had nestled into the expanse of his chest, he'd protectively slid his hand down over her abdomen. It was instinct now. He'd made a promise….now he would keep it.

XXXX

Meg and Raoul sat a long while by the fire. Her mother had not returned. Discretion had always been her strength, and today she exercised it with great clarity. They wanted to revel in the moment themselves, yet they longed for there to be no misunderstanding of the events that took place. Things were not quite as they might have first appeared.

Raoul was the first to stand, taking Meg by the hand. "Come, they'll be wondering why we still tarry." Meg nodded in agreement. Raoul began to lead her back toward the opening in the tangled briar, pausing one last time before they left the safety of that haven. He had to tell her.

"Meg, it has been most wonderful for me to have you in my home. I am pleased that you'd agreed to join me there." Raoul swallowed, what he had to say next would not be easy, and in truth was in part the reason he'd want to give her that ring. "Meg, I do worry, not for myself, for truly it would not matter…but for you."

Meg stopped, looking up at Raoul. "What is it that you worry of Raoul?"

He looked down at her with compassionate eyes, "worry for what others might say, what others might think Meg, of you and I." The words that he'd overheard of his father's rung inside his mind.

Meg shook her head. It seemed at every turn he managed to confuse her. Raoul looked at her, quickly realizing she'd misunderstood. "No Meg, not of us, but of the time we spend together….quite alone in your room." Meg blushed, he'd said her room. "Meg, when the time comes that you've made up your mind, made your decision, no matter which you choose, I've no want for anyone to have question in their mind."

Meg blinked. Though the words stung like the deep piercing of an enraged hornet, she understood that which he was trying to say.

"Meg, I shall be here for you, no matter what your want or need, I shall be but a few doors away."

A tear formed in Meg's eye. "I know that there is no present danger, and though what you say brings pain to my heart, you need say no more….I understand." Raoul let out a relieved breath. She held pain in her eyes, just as he held pain in his heart.

"Meg, I shall accompany to your door each evening, perhaps even join you for tea before bed, but we shall either be joined by our parents, or leave the door open. Though you and I know of the platonic nature of our interactions, I want that there is no doubt that we've not let our emotions or passions take control of us, instead of we taking them by the bridle."

Meg nodded as she took the arm that Raoul extended to her. "It shall be as you say Raoul." She smiled at him sweetly though inside she was dying. She'd only grown accustomed to waking up in the safety of his arms, and now to be deprived of such comfort…she was not certain how she would manage.

They walked to the opening in the briar, Meg leaning back pecking Raoul's cheek. "So much has happened Raoul, and what has not parted us has made us stronger. I hope that one day your father's heart would warm for us."

Raoul smiled, looking down at her. He'd wanted so to tell her of what he'd overheard, but then he'd have to admit to being in Nadir's room. Perhaps it was well enough that Raoul knew of his father's heart on the matter. When the time came for Raoul to ask Madame Giry for her hand, it would be all that much sweeter.

XXXXX

It was nearly two in the afternoon, when a sled arrived outside of the woman's house. The doctor watched with great anticipation as he saw a woman climbing down the side of the snow, it would be the woman's sister. Though she was still asleep, he knew she would be grateful when she woke to find her sister at her side. The events of the last days had been entirely overwhelming for the poor woman.

How would she manage without him? The doctor did not know. He had been trained to heal the body. He knew full well that the mind was an entirely different matter. No bandage nor medicine could alleviate the torturous travels a mind must take when it grieves. There was no way around it, simply a way through it, and that was a journey none could take from you, nor take for you.

He welcomed the woman as she came in through the door, lightly tapping her boots on the sash as she did. "Bon Nuit Doctor, where is my sister?" A formal conversation was not necessary. They both knew the purpose of her visit.

"She rests upstairs Madame." He nodded his head as she removed her cloak. The men, having just returned from their delivery to LeMortem Street, carried in her bags. They nodded at the doctor, it had been done.

"And my brother-in-law?" The doctor led her over to the bench by the fire. He waited until the two men left the room. "I'm so sorry to be the bearer of such news mum…" Her hand flew up to her mouth, and remained there as the doctor explained the extent of the injury, the long nights her sister had sat by his side, and the final hours they'd spent together.

"She will need you more now than ever I'm afraid."

"And where is he now?" She said, looking pleadingly at him.

The doctor looked back at the door. "We've taken him to LeMortem, your sister will have to decide when she is awake, what she would like for him."

The woman sat rather ashen. She'd expected to be of a support to her sister as she helped her husband mend. She'd not expected to find her a widow…that was a much different healing. She fidgeted with her skirt. "I know too well what she will have to journey through, my husband died just last year from fever. My sister was there to help me sir, I shall be there for her."

The doctor was a bit relieved. He'd be leaving the woman in hands far more capable than his own. None understands the pain and trials quite like those who have been through it themselves.

The maid appeared from behind the service door, going to the woman who sat with the doctor. They embraced briefly before she said, "come, let me show you to a room I've prepared for you."

The woman stood to join her, turning back to the doctor. "May we call on you if we should have need?"

The doctor said "but of course." Then he thought a moment. "Tonight, should you need me, I'm just outside of the city, visiting the Vicomte…"

The woman was already nodding her head. "Yes I know, I've heard of the young chorus girl, and the ballet mistress…so good of him to take them in." The woman nodded and disappeared behind the door.

The doctor's head hung, it had already begun. Rumor begat rumor, and this was certain to be fodder for much gossip in the coming months. That too he would have to share with Raoul when he finally reached him.

XXXXX

Nadir had drifted in and out of a fitful sleep. He now lay awake, looking over at the clock it was two o'clock in the afternoon. He could neither entreat his mind to rest, nor convince his body to remove itself from its current prone position. He was tired, but his mind wouldn't hear of it, there was far too much to do.

He rolled over looking out the window. It was a bit overcast, but still it was light, and showed no signs of the storm returning. Nadir thought to himself that he would rise, take in a bit of lunch and wander out to the carriage house to see about commandeering the sleigh he'd heard DeChagny speaking about.

It was time, nay far passed time, that Sara make her way to the place she would rest. Perhaps if he'd managed this one thing, he would sit a bit easier. He'd be able to focus on the issue that burned at his mind, that of the lineage of a certain friend.

Nadir stretched, trying and failing to reach both ends of the bed. No doubt the bed had been built with a giant of a man in mind! Sliding his legs over the edge of the bed, Nadir sat up rubbing his eyes. He was tired, as much from the tossing and turning he'd done as the night spent awake conversing with DeChagny.

Something caught his eye. Right on the edge of the desk, was that the envelope that he'd given Meg that morning? He glanced back over at the small table next to his bed, rising, he pulled open the drawer, no, there was the blank envelope she'd given him. Nadir closed the drawer, yawning heavily as he quietly plodded over to it. Glancing down he furrowed his brow. His name was inscribed on the face of it.

His face quickly covered in a smile. She'd received his note…this was her reply. But when had she? He shook his head. How easily she could have traveled between the rooms unnoticed. Though under normal circumstances he'd feel intruded upon, he didn't mind the thought she'd been in the room with him without his knowledge.

Nadir plodded back to the bed, sliding his thumb beneath the seal. If he were to face her, to face what remained of the day, he might as well do it from the beginning. He slid the sheets out into his hands, caressing them before he opened them to begin reading.

"My dearest Nadir…" he could almost hear her voice. The first words rung in his mind. Though he knew what they needed to do was best, somewhere in his heart he'd hoped she'd beg him to reconsider…to find a way. His eyes grew damp as he read….

"I know that present circumstances prevent us from seeking refugee of any kind in one another's company…..we've so many others to consider aside from ourselves. One day we may find ourselves in much more favorable arrangements….Fond friends we've been, and the fondest of friends we shall always be….love does not often follow the most prudent course…..In my heart there is so much that I wish had been different, but alas it shan't be so…. I do pray that whatever course is chosen that we can remain in contact, if however infrequently…..This letter shall end a rather sad discourse, though I look forward with some optimism to the future. There is always happiness to be found….With fondest regards, M

Nadir swallowed. Her response made him take pause. For so long the two of them had thought of others, put others ahead of themselves…would there ever be a time, before they left this earth that they could think of their own needs, their own desires? Erik's words rung heavily in his mind…. "Go my friend, find that which makes you happy…we shall pass this way but once…" Even Erik had understood the very needs of Nadir's soul….perhaps even more than he'd understood them himself.

XXXX

The boy had finished the last of the items in the basket. The daylight had been long, and the weather had held. It had allowed him time to dig the snow away from the sides of the tree to expose some of the grasses that lay beneath the heavy blankets. His horse had been grateful as it allowed it to feed. He'd managed to remove a few more of the lower dry limbs from the tree to build a bit of a fire later that night.

For now he was quite warm, having spent the last hours pushing about snow. He could hear the water running beneath it as it had already begun to melt. His hopes were high that this would be the last night he'd spend inside that carriage, entrapped by the snow. If the next day did not produce enough relief to dislodge the carriage from it's current location, he'd have to set the horse free and come back for the carriage once the snow had melted.

He could ill afford to be found now, nor could he afford to stay there another night. The next twenty-four hours would be telling. The only thing his isolation had produced was a keen awareness that he'd need to change his life…this was not living. But…he'd finish the work he'd come to do first, it was his last gift to his father….then his life would be different, but in this moment…until this was done, he was obligated.

**Author's Notes**:

**Captainoblivious**: Good to hear Susie is on the mend. As for the two men…hmmm…did you take your love of POTO so far that you've now two young men on the hook, both vying for your attention? If it were me…I'd take the one that most resembled Gerard Butler! LOL! It is a difficult thing when this happens. Being friends with both will be best, but difficult, especially if you don't particularly care for either one. Hmmmm…maybe Pat can give you some good advice, since he is a guy. At least be thankful that there are two instead of none…it means you are doing something right! My guy-o-meter has been on zero for such a long time….it probably has something to do with the fact that I am always working. I probably only have a chance with a burglar that happens into my house between 2 and 6 a.m.! LOL! And then only on the days that I am actually home…which lately have been few and far between.

Yes our dear Erik has a cough, and who could wonder after all of that exposure…though I think Christine is rather enjoying being able to baby him a bit. The last time she'd cared for him, he'd objected profusely, now he was warming up to the idea, since he's found it is most pleasant! And Raoul, yes Raoul would not be my type either, but for some, such as Meg, he's a good match. I rather prefer the brooding intelligent type over the more, oh how to describe it….more reserved, more proper type.

Here's hoping you have a good week (notice I did not say uneventful) and stop in and let the Phamily know how Susie turns out!

**Phantomsrogue**: Good to hear that Wilma missed you, and don't worry, I understand what you are saying, it doesn't seem heartless to be thankful that the brunt of the storm did not affect you. One can only endure so much.

I must confess I've not been able to check my e-mail, between work and catching up on typing all that I've written, and celebrating a friends birthday, I've not had much time to myself. But I will get to it, do not worry.

Yes, it is very good to be home again…I've missed the story and the Phamily very much! It was a twist on the Raoul/Meg front that came to me in the middle of the night one night last week…I think he wants to ask her, and is dancing around every way possible, but the memories of his own mother's pain, of what his father described…that keeps him from doing it. He doesn't want his bride to have any doubt, and he knows how much she has to give up to be with him, even if most people would consider it to be an improvement. So he is being careful, though I think if it were up to him, he'd march her right down the isle tonight! Hmmmm….

Le bon jour mon âme-soeur, ma soeur !

**PhantomFan13**: Yes, it is more than good to be back home again! Yes, your words made sense. I rather love a good twist, and I think it shows Raoul's angst in wanting Meg, but not wanting to push her. He does not want her to think that he does not want her…hmmm…sounds complicated.

Halloween, yes, a Monday is not necessarily the best night for it, but for me, it is the only night of the week that I do not have to work, or be somewhere else…just one night a week…yikes…I have to get a life! It will be a fun one though I think. The weather where I live will be in the fifties that night, if the current pattern holds, so it won't be bad to be out and about. I won't be doing the trick-or-treat thing at my house I don't think. My poor little schnauzer nearly had a heart attack last year with people coming and going…so I'm probably going to put him up in one of the spare bedrooms with 'Lassie' on the VCR and a good bone to chew on. I've a long flowing black skirt to wear, but I don't know what the rest of the costume should be. I'd really like to do something Victorian, or something from 1870's Paris, but I don't know yet. Hmmm…as for you…I don't really like witches (long story), a princess…is o.k…..but…. Little Red Riding Hood would be a good choice. You know at least you'd be warm, and we don't know too very much about Little Red, so she might really be something or someone else….you might actually be the wolf under that cape…there it is, part of my fascination…yet another creature with a cape….I must confess I have a one track mind! No matter what you choose you'll have fun if you give in to it. Don't know if you are a Shakespeare fan, but if you are, you'll understand in so many of his stories that there is power in hiding one's real identity, it frees the spirit, drops all expectations, and allows one to be whatever and whoever they want to be. So, the costume is merely a vehicle, it is what you do when you are wearing it that determines your satisfaction with it! The best idea is to simply have fun with it no matter what you choose!

**Nordygirl:** I go into fits of laughter. I have a very creative, very active imagination. I could just sit back and imagine you belting out this song! LOL! It is so very kind of you to use such descriptive words…and I love your music choice… I think I've said it before, but I am very pleased that you are enjoying the story…I hope not to disappoint!

**Diveprincess**: So very good to hear from you! How is school? How are those legs doing? I've thought of you often now that the weather is turning…broken bones often ache so much as the seasons change….hope that is going well. Did you and your friend ever make amends?

Yes, our story has grown. I never imagined it would be 142 chapters, and now I am wondering how long it will end up being…there is so very much left to write! It has been a labor of love…and I just can't imagine stopping, though I know it shall one day be complete.

It is good to hear from you. I have been busy, as no doubt the rest of our Phamily has. Some have had children, some are buying houses, some are off in college, some are in high school…so many different walks of life, so many places in the world…it is so very much fun!


	145. The Ring Betrays the Woman

Chapter 145 The Ring Betrays the Woman 

Nadir was just coming down the stairs when Madeline was at the base of them. She had a pot of tea in her hand and a plate of biscuits with preserves. It was quite hard to estimate what to bring someone when it was late afternoon but their palate would be craving something of breakfast. "Sir, good…um…"

Nadir smiled at her taking the tray from her hands. "May I take that for you Madeline, no doubt you've plenty of other duties to keep you quite occupied."

She nodded and turned disappearing to the kitchen. Indeed she did have a number of things that needed her attention, including the dinner she was preparing for the remainder of the household that did not live like bats, staying up until all hours she thought to herself disgustedly.

Nadir smirked at her as she shook her head slightly walking back to the kitchen. He was entirely certain that all of the additional house guests had been quite an upheaval for the poor dear.

Indeed, likely nothing had been normal since Christine had gone missing. Her master had been distraught for a long while, and just when it might have seemed he was recovering, Meg entered his life in a sizeable way. Then, to have rescued her so heroically after professing his feelings for her in front of half of Parisian society…and to have brought her there, along with her mother…. Well, the house had certainly filled in a most unexpected, however temporal way. Had Madeline and the reaminder of Raoul's staff not been so accommodating, the stay for all concerned would not have been nearly as pleasant. Yes, DeChagny had brought along several from his own staff to be of assistance, and the cook and additional maid had been of help to her. Nadir had no doubt Madeline longed for those quiet days when she could tend to the business of caring for a bachelor, especially one as refined and well-bred as Raoul.

Nadir watched as she disappeared into the kitchen. He took his tray of steaming biscuits and preserves to the parlor. It was a bit formal there, and not nearly so warm as the hallway, so he decided instead, to retreat to the library.

As he sat down in the leather chair by the fire, he mused at how attentive Raoul's staff truly were. No doubt Madeline had heard him moving about on the floor above, the scufflings and scrapings of chairs moving and doors being opened, alerted her to his rousings. It amazed him how very in-tune and attentive staff had to be to anticipate the needs of the household. It was an art, one that had been honed over centuries, taught with great care from one generation to the next. To be a servant in such a fine household required something of a pedigree in itself. Madeline, Nadir decided as he took his first mouthful of the flaky biscuit with melting sweet cream butter and sweet strawberry preserves, had been well raised, well trained, and as skillful in her delivery of duties as any he'd ever seen.

Nadir sat savoring the trio of biscuits until the very last crumb had been consumed. After another cup of tea, Nadir was ready to face the day, or what remained of it. He glanced out the window, perhaps he'd end up dining in the city, if anything were open, and if it were late enough when he was finished, he might find lodging at Sara's inn. Though it had sat dormant for nearly a month and a half, he'd no doubt he'd still find sufficient wood, and comfortable bedding to manage for the night.

He rose brushing the crumbs from his vest onto the plate. Was that sleigh bells? His eyes widened. If Raoul's staff had anticipated that which would neither be normal this time of year, nor had been requested, Nadir would have to re-phrase his thoughts. If indeed that were true, Raoul's staff were not merely attentive, but clairvoyant!

Nadir made his way to the window just as the sleigh pulled near the side of the house, as close to the veranda as was possible. Nadir smiled. It was apparent from the three bundled figures that he spied, that the rest of the family had ventured out for a ride that afternoon, in lieu of seeking an indoor activity.

Nadir released the curtain reaching for his cloak. At least he knew that the sleigh was in working order, and the horses had managed quite well. Nadir slipped his cloak over his shoulder walking to the door. He met Madeline in the hallway, she'd been coming to retrieve the plate and refill his teapot.

"Thank you Madeline, the biscuits were superb my dear, oh, how do I say it…" Nadir thought for a moment, his French was a bit rusty. "Cela était délicieux, merci.!"

Madeline smiled as she passed him, nodding. She'd forgive him his trespasses of the evening before, seeing as he'd been so pleasant and appreciative today.

XXXXXX

The doctor checked in on the sleeping woman before he returned to the sitting room just outside of her bedchamber.

"Your sister is still sleeping." He began putting on his cloak, looking at his pocket watch. "It is four o'clock. If she hasn't risen by five-thirty, do wake her. She needs to eat and drink something or she cannot have any additional medicine, you be certain to tell her that won't you?"

The woman nodded. "She should take no more than one of these today. Tomorrow and the day after she may have two more each day, but no more after that."

The woman nodded, she'd see to it. "Thank you," she said, reaching out for his arm, "thank you for staying with her, and for caring for my brother-in-law."

The doctor nodded, "it was my pleasure to be at your service." He descended the stairs rather hurriedly. Though the day was still light, he was rather eager to return to Raoul's to see how everyone was faring, and to make certain Raoul knew of the dying man's professions. No doubt the boy was long gone, but even now the doctor couldn't be entirely certain that he'd not arrive at Raoul's and find the unexpected, just as this poor woman did when she'd come to aide her sister.

He moved ever more quickly to the door. The sleigh outside was small but sturdy and the driver willing. They'd not had terribly far to travel, though an estimate was hard given the altered terrain. With all good fortune following them, the driver would find himself at home by the time his wife put his dinner on the table.

XXXXX

"This woman's already been prepared?" The undertaker said as he slid his instruments from beneath the woman's skin. He'd looked over the deep gash in her side that had been sewn shut. It was a jagged wound, no doubt an accident of some sort or another in this storm.

His assistant just shrugged. "They'd not said much sir, just that she's to be readied, and the bill can be sent to…here, this is the paper the man brought with her." The undertaker unfolded the paper. On it was scrawled but a few words.

Cher Monsieur,

This woman is to have to ivory casket on display in your window. See that the bill for your services rendered is prepared and waiting in your office the day after the morrow. I shall be in to take care of it in full. Do not, under any circumstances accept payment from the woman's family. If you follow my instructions precisely, you shall be duly rewarded. S.C.

The man wrinkled his nose. "Is this not the same man who paid for the last elderly woman that we prepared not a week ago?" The man inquired of his apprentice.

"Yes sir, I do believe it is." The young man said as he went about his business preparing the woman for her final placement in the coffin that had been selected for her.

The man's face turned to a bitter scowl. "I do find it strange that both women, found themselves quite dead, and he was the last to be involved with them…don't you find that odd Oliver?"

The young man just shrugged his shoulders again. As far as he was concerned, it was a man who was timely about paying his bill, and he'd only requested the finest caskets available. It shouldn't matter the circumstances, he'd not been accused of having his hand in any crimes. The undertaker walked away scratching at his chin. "Very odd indeed."

XXXXX

Erik slipped the keys into the deep velvet pocket of his robe. The ring of keys made a bit of a clatter. Erik looked over his shoulder, Christine had not so much as fluttered an eyelash. Erik returned the bust to its place on the pedestal. He was duly skilled in the art of moving in shadow, slipping in and out undetected. It had been a long while since he'd done so, but it came back to him within a few steps.

Before he'd even thought of it consciously, he found himself out in the hall. First he would check the safe behind the picture on the wall in the sunroom. Erik saw no fingerprints on the picture, and what little bit of dust lay on the edges of it were undisturbed. The lock gave way easily, the contents were in tact. Next he moved to the closet at the end of the hall, a secret panel slid aside, revealing a small door. Erik used the second key on the ring to open it. He moved through it crouching low. In this small place he'd lit a match from his pocket. The weapons were all still there, none had been moved even a fraction of an inch in their holders. Christine had not been there. Erik blew out the match.

He moved stealthily to the other end of the hall, going up the small staircase to the widow's walk in the turret at the peak of the house. Beneath the octagon bench that lay below the colored windows, was yet another small cover. Erik lifted the cushion using the third key to open the box. The silver, and several bars of gold, were indeed still there. Beside it Erik felt about, the sheathed dagger also lay carefully in its home, just where it should be. Though he was relieved his brow furrowed. What had it been that interested her so?

Erik moved silently, undetected from room to room, and finally down the stairs. He'd avoided his staff on several occasions. It surprised him how alive he felt. This game was so familiar and so much a part of who he had been nearly all of his life. Though he'd not wanted to admit it, there was something that felt stimulating about the game….he'd rather missed it.

He'd gone to the closet with the small arsenal of guns, the trap door where one could hide, the provisions of food and water were still there. The hidden box beside the fireplace mantel in the parlor still contained its documents, the cellar was still in tact. At each station he was met with absolute continuity…she had not been there.

Erik was puzzled. Each of the seventeen keys that he'd showed Christine had produced nary a clue. He sat in the parlor, leaning against the wall. Perhaps she'd merely knocked the bust over and the keys had fallen out….no, he knew better, he was making up excuses. What on earth could it have been, each and every thing he'd shown her appeared not to be disturbed. There was but one locked thing in the remainder of the house, he'd not shown her, and indeed she'd not have figured out the key if she had tried.

His eyes grew wide. There was only that ONE thing he'd not checked, but he was certain that it was safe, she'd not been shown how to open it. Erik rose, slipping quite easily down the hall passed the kitchen to the room. He opened and closed the room with nary a sound. The room was cool, no fire had been lit here as it had not been required. Erik moved over to his desk sitting down in the chair. The room was darkened by the curtains that always remained lowered unless he bid them otherwise. He'd not want to draw attention to the room by uncovering the window.

Erik inhaled as he slid his hand beneath the desk, tugging on the drawer. It had not been unlocked, he was certain of it. Using the key in one hand and twisting the ring that it was on, pushing it up into a groove underneath the drawer, he heard a tumbler move, and the door slid open easily. In the dark Erik ran his hands over the contents. Though he could not see the items, he knew them by heart as he ran his hand over each article. He sighed in relief. Nothing had been moved, he was sure of it. He slid the drawer closed.

He'd have to one day revisit the items in the drawer, though he'd not do so soon. Erik stood, sliding the chair beneath the desk. He felt about the top of the desk searching for the ring of keys he'd laid down. Just before he'd found them, his fingers slid over something that was not at all as smooth as the rest of the surface. Erik paused, running his hand back over it again, and again. Something was amiss. He huffed he needed to see it. It was his house and if he'd be found in the room in the full light of day with curtains wide open, none would be able to protest, it was his house after all.

Erik walked over to the window, drawing the curtain back. The light spilled into the room. Not the bright sunlight of the morning, but a light of the coming dusk. He turned looking back at the surface of his desk, and there it was. His eyes beheld what the tips of his fingers had discovered. Erik's eyes grew wide. He walked over to it, crouching low examining it with both his eyes and fingers. He quickly assessed that it had been caused by something heated and moist, no doubt the bottom of something. It was far too small to be from a carelessly placed pot of tea. Erik had no idea why anyone would have been in the study with a pot of tea during his absence.

As he ran his fingers over it yet again, it came to him. It was from a tea cup. Now he was entirely certain who it had been. Christine had but one flaw that he could even think of and that had been what had betrayed her. She rather enjoyed carrying about her tea cup without its saucer. Normally she was very careful not to sit it down on any fine surface, but perhaps in this case, she was far too distracted by her real purpose for being in that room to pay attention to her carelessness.

Erik sat down in the chair once more. He'd not thought Christine to be the prying type, in fact, he'd rather thought her to be quite the opposite. He knew not what he should do. Should he ask her what it was that brought her there? Should he ask if she'd been looking for stationary and become curious about the contents of the drawer, and finding it locked did she think that he'd simply forgotten to mention that lock to her. Or, had she found the locked drawer on an expedition to discover every nook and cranny of the house?

Erik was angry, though he'd not wanted to direct it at Christine. She had always been a curious one, and indeed he'd rather found that amusing…but now….being on the receiving end of such, he found it rather unnerving. He sighed. Perhaps he would wait for her ask him, and then perhaps she'd tell him the entire story. Yes, that seemed to be the most prudent course of action.

He looked once more disgustedly at the raised circle on the desk. The desk had belonged to Louis the XIV, it had come from the palace of Versailles. In all those years no damage had been done to it, and now, look at it! He was saddened, and a bit more than irritated. He'd see to having it rubbed with oil and polished, though he doubted that would fix it entirely. He rose, going to the door, he turned the lock to secure the door. He walked slowly, reticently, back to the desk, inserting the key, and the ring into the depression beneath the drawer. Slowly sliding the drawer open. Erik stared down with cautious eyes, at the contents. His eyes roamed from one thing to another. He pressed the lids of his eyes together tightly, closing the drawer quickly, latching it locked.

He leaned his arms on the desk, pressing his head into them. He began to cry. He suffered so trying to keep his emotions silent so he wouldn't be detected. His shoulders shook back and forth, as he sobbed in silence. He leaned back in the chair, his head resting on the back of it. It had been another life, oh he wanted to put it all behind him. He lifted his head, looking around the room. It had all been of a former life. A life he'd no desire to return to, nor dabble in. When one is finished with one life, they choose to move on, to grow beyond it, they needed to leave it in the past. Though he wanted to purge it from his mind, there was something about the contents of that drawer that he could not release it. They told a story, a story of a man, his obsessions, his insanity, his redemption…he could simply not let them go. Something about them helped to remind him how terrible he had been…and far he had come.

Erik rose, walking to the window, lowering the curtain to its original position. He yawned. At this point he'd no idea what had exhausted him more. The last twenty-four hours contained more life than most men live in four days!

He would return to her side. He needed to learn of this new beast in his life, the idea of assuming one to be innocent unless proven otherwise. He'd lived his entire life with suspicion, and the last consideration he'd ever offered anyone, even his dearest confidante Nadir, was the benefit of the doubt. This was a skill he'd have to come to learn if he wished to form lasting unions of friendship with any creature.

Erik knew he loved her, trusted her, but part of him needed to know. Would she never let go of the past of his which she did not know? Could he? Would it let go of him? He didn't know the answer to any of the questions that raged in his mind.

He walked through the door, peeking out, looking this way and that. He moved down the hall to the kitchen. Seeing no one, he moved in, going to the large pot of water that remained on the back burner. He retrieved a small pot, and a tea ball from the cupboard. He dug about until he found the tin of black currant tea. He'd come to enjoy this particular leaf with Madame Giry. He'd specifically had it selected at the mercantile. He'd hoped one day she'd return to share it with him. He smiled. Today he'd enjoy a pot of it. Though they couldn't be together to share it, they would do so in spirit. Erik would raise his first cup to her when it was brewed.

He filled the pot with boiling water, submersing the ball. It hissed madly. There was pleasure in that process alone Erik thought. The dry leaf had a mild rather pleasant scent. It was not until it was forced from its dormant state by the permeating, demanding heat of the boiling water that it released its true beauty. The fragrances released when a tea leaf swells its first were truly the leaf at its finest moment. Engorged with the boiling liquid, bleeding of its best profusely, it was releasing the very purpose for its life in those moments.

Erik marveled as he looked at the bubbling pot, it was a great deal like the human condition. The human passes through life, mostly one being like the other. It is not until the heat of life, nay, the boiling point, where ones true courage, true purpose is revealed. When one is tested by the heat, the purest form of that soul is laid bare for the world to see. That was the essence of life. He'd had his share of boiling-point moments, and not all of them had produced characteristics that he could be proud of. He was a changing man though…the more time he spent in the presence of that angelic creature that lay in his bed upstairs, the better man he became.

He shook his head. He needed to return to her. His reflections came to him at the oddest of times. In the Opera House, those moments quite typically led to hours, nay endless day, and sleepless nights spent at the piano composing music to capture that moment in time, that emotion, that revelation. Now he did not have that release and something deep inside of him missed it. His mind quickly wandered back to Christine. He smiled. She had been his release as of late. He'd traded one obsession for another. He loved them both…but now he'd found an obsession that could return that love…and she did so with unparalleled intensity. He smiled yet again. Perhaps when life produced a more settled environment, he could write a bit more, but for now he would focus on being the husband of this woman.

Erik turned, shaking his head yet again. They already had cups on the tray in their room, all that he needed was the pot that was in his hand. Erik moved quietly back to the door, and down the hall.

Misty came into the kitchen. "Hello?" She shook her head. It felt as if someone was there. She shook her head, it had been her imagination. She turned looking at the cupboard. The tin of tea still lay on it. She walked over picking it up and placing it back into the cupboard. She shook her head again. It had to have been her imagination. Everyone else was in the servants quarters. The elder woman had insisted that everyone was to be quite as the master and his wife slumbered.

Misty went back to her room. She'd want to finish the remainder of the book she'd been reading. Elizabeth had promised to borrow her one of her own once she'd finished and reported on the one she was reading. It was her one pleasure.

Erik made his way back into the room without so much as a sound. He sat the pot of tea down on the table in front of the fire. He returned the keys to the bust. Returning to the tea, and the remainder of the pastry. It was cold, and the frosting now hardened, though he didn't mind. It was a treat for the senses, just the right blend of sweet and tart, and a hint of salt, with the cinnamon he so enjoyed. He sliced another piece from the larger pastry. As he sipped his tea, and took bite after delectable bite, he realized his eating habits had become somewhat strange. Perhaps Christine's pregnancy had affected him. He grew hungry now at all the wrong times, and his hunger today surprised him.

He'd eaten three pieces before he'd even realized it. Then he sat the plate down, supping the last of his third cup of tea. He stretched, looking back over at Christine. He'd have much to speak of to her, but it would wait. Right now all he had want to do was return to her arms. Her tender, loving arms.

**Author's Notes**:

**PhantomsRogue**: Yes, I did get a chance to read your message, I'll have to respond to it. There are so many different directions one could go with the triangle isn't there?

Erik does have a dark brooding side, even though he wants to keep it hidden, even deny it himself. He is a man-in-progress. He, and we, would be fools to think he could be changed in a flash. Oh, do not get me wrong, his priorities are changing, but the old Erik did not die…he simply went into a dormant state.

Madame Giry and Nadir…yes they should be happy…they deserve it don't they? It will be hard to tell if their obligations will keep them apart or if they will throw caution to the wind. Hmmmm….I guess it is quite up to them!

Le bon jour mon âme-soeur, ma soeur !

**Batteredchild**: Yes, the triplets would make that lump visible about the end of that third month. Normally you wouldn't see a thing yet, but multiples make it a bit harder to hide.

Your second comment, about the ring on the desk…well…you were right…truly the ring betrayed the woman. You know, most criminals, even the best and brightest are often foiled and discovered by an a bad habit that they don't even think about. A certain cigarette that they smoke, a way they fold a gum wrapper, the way they leave a radio playing when they leave an apartment, what they eat, etc. It was no different with Christine. She liked her cup without a saucer, and it had been the tell-tale.

WriterMuseoftheNight: I don't know if he relapsed so much as he simply was covering it up with all of this other stuff…I don't think he's ever let go of it…or it of him. I think he's always know she was curious, and up until this point he thought it was "cute". But now, being on the receiving end…he isn't all that certain that he likes it. Even for the woman he's shared the most intimate parts of his life with, he still cannot bring himself to share his past. Hmmm…just when you think you know someone! LOL! Pandora is the epitome of the female psyche isn't she? We are curious…but that is o.k., so are men…and we call them inventors! Hmmmm…

Yes, the storm…it was purposeful…it was immobilizing, keeping people together in places so things could be developed and resolved. There is just something about being stranded that brings out the best, and worst in people…its almost like a concentrated form of claustrophobia, it heightens all of the realities. Sorry, I've dabbled in psychology…its part of what I do for a living…

The celebration that is coming to Chauesser in a few short weeks…well…let us just say that it could be something to watch for….oh I cannot say more.

The epitath for Christine's tombstone…I think it said something like "Beloved Wife and Mother" but I'd have to go back and watch the ending. I have to tell you that I have stopped watching the ending because I rather like to imagine them living in the presence of our little story…and in this one she most decidedly belongs to Erik.

**Phantomfan13**: Yes, our dear Erik had discovered the "ring" and let us just say he is not at all pleased. Two reasons. First and foremost, he doesn't want anyone in that drawer….he doesn't even want to be in that drawer right now…he's trying to embrace his current happiness. Second, that desk, if you know of Louis XIV, would be a great, GREAT, piece of French furniture. More than an antique….Louis XIV was renowned for his sense of style, his sense of structure and architecture, and sense of being a man in his own right. All qualities that Erik admired greatly. For him to have a piece of furniture that belonged to a King that reigned for 72 years (the longest in French history) meant a great deal to him. Sorry for the little historical detour! So yes, Erik is irritated, but he is trying to get over it….hmmmm…. You are very perceptive…he may have a flashing temper, but usually those sorts are also quick to retreat….at least sometimes. They are also the quickest to commit murder, and do strange things in the heat of the moment…but we won't think about that right now will we…..

As for being a witch…whichever witch makes you happy! LOL! I have seen, I think, one episode of 'Charmed' but that was years ago when Shannon was still on the show. As if people do not think that I am odd enough already, I have to tell you that I don't even have any sort of television in my house. I mean I have the equipment, but no cable, no regular stations, nothing. It is an old brick house, and even with rabbit ears I cannot get a station. Since I am not home very often, I don't see the sense in paying for cable TV. So, when I am home and have time on my hands, I read or watch movies….yes, I am a crazy woman!

As for Shakespeare, I do love what he writes, though I have to confess until I'd read a few of his works, and became familiar with the style and language, it was a bit confusing. He was a brilliant, if not troubled man. Sometimes I think I was born in the wrong century…there is so much about the past that I love…

**Nordygirl**: I must confess it has been a few years since I saw 'West Side Story' on stage, but I do remember the song you refer to. Quite creative you are! I look forward to the next one. Oh, I love 'Sound of Music'!

You might recall that Christine used the keys trying to get into that drawer because she was curious as to why it was locked and why Erik hadn't told her about it since he'd obviously showed her every other hidden thing in the house. Thankfully, she'd never gotten the drawer open…she might have felt very differently about forgiving Erik's past so quickly if she had.

**Faeriecatcher1**: Thank you for your comments! I am happy for Raoul and Meg too. Their relationship is so different from Christine and Erik's, as it should be, but I want them to be happy too. Though I do worry what will happen to the two of them should Raoul ever find the secret that Meg has been hiding from him….let's hope that snow outside doesn't melt too fast!

Yes Crawlings…that family has become such a nuisance…the scourge of society really. They have caused heartache with so many families…but this time….they may have just picked the wrong family to hunt….


	146. Unspoken

Chapter 146 Unspoken 

Nadir held the door open for Madame Giry as she made her way into the house from the sleigh. He leaned down placing a delicate kiss on her cheek, his cheek touching hers lingering for a moment, "Bonjour mon cheri."

Her heart pounded. "Thank you for your note Madame." He whispered in her ear as he pulled away looking into her eyes seriously.

She stared into his, the pair locked in a gaze for a brief moment before the approach of Meg and Raoul parted them.

Meg entered, her nose a fleshy crimson at the tip. She embraced Nadir, kissing him on both cheeks. He winced from the cold of her nose as it brushed his cheek. "I am sorry Nadir," she said as she pulled her right hand from the muff rubbing the end of her nose.

It took Nadir but a second to notice the presence of a new piece of jewelry on Meg's finger, as Meg, in typical fashion of a woman her age, wore no jewelry, lest it were a family heirloom. Meg noticed Nadir's glance and quickly put her hand back into the muff. Nadir cocked his head slightly, a smirk crossing his face.

Madame Giry had just removed her cloak and looked at Nadir, and then back at Meg. She couldn't imagine what the two of them were smiling about.

Raoul came in shortly behind the women, extending his hand to Nadir. "It is good to see you up and well sir." His eyes began scanning Nadir's clothing. "Are you off somewhere already?" Raoul said, causing the women to look at Nadir.

"It is time Raoul, if you'll permit me use of your sleigh…time to move the box from your carriage house."

Raoul was shaking his head. "Yes sir, but perhaps on the morrow, as it already grows late, you'd not be back from the city before evening, and you'll not want to be out in this weather after dark."

Nadir was fixing his cloak around his jacket. "My intentions are to stay the evening in Paris Raoul. I've need to visit the offices there in the morning, and I see no reason for your staff to make the trip more than once."

Raoul was raising his hand to protest, but Nadir continued. "I've promised that I'd set her final arrangements in order, and contact her next of kin. It is not until I locate her records that I shall know how to do so I'm afraid."

Raoul was shaking his head, "but there's no doubt not one room available in the entirety of Paris, not with this storm."

Nadir looked at Raoul, and then glanced at Meg and Madame Giry, "I've no intentions of lodging in a hotel, nor another inn, I'd thought perhaps that I could..."

Madame Giry quickly interjected. "The Opera House, he could stay in my suite at the Opera House." Nadir blinked, that was not at all what he'd anticipated, nor had Raoul, the men giving Madame Giry a blank stare. "It makes perfect sense," she continued. "The room is readied, there is staff to tend to his needs for meals and such as no doubt they are already caring for those who are finishing the Opera House."

Raoul smiled at Madame Giry, "mother, what a wonderful idea, I shall see to writing a note for him to give to Firmin and Andre', then you can stay as long as you've need to." Raoul departed to his study to scribe a note and affix a proper seal.

Nadir looked at Madame Giry, her face flush, as was Meg's. Nadir began to smile, "mother?" Madame Giry shook her head.

She was just as confused as Nadir. She still didn't know the goings on from the grotto, and Raoul's speech had obviously rather comfortably anointed her with the more familial title rather than her more formal Madame.

Meg began to stammer, "Raoul is, it has been a long afternoon, and what he was trying to…"

Nadir smiled, holding his hand up. "Meg, you've no need to explain, you are among friends, nay family," he smiled at Madame Giry, who blushed and looked down.

Meg noticed the glance smiling herself at Nadir, then her mother. It was a rather pleasant though awkward moment for the three of them. They stood silently taking turns smiling and blushing at one another. Finally, Meg came forward taking Nadir's hand, and reaching for her mother's. She looked at both of them, and then down at their empty hand. She nodded at Nadir and looked at her mother's hand. Nadir smiled, knowing what she wished for him to do. He extended it to Madame Giry who smiled politely taking what was offered. Meg smiled, sighing delightedly.

"One day, the Lord willing, we shall all be one rather large, complicated, passionate, loving, family." Meg said.

Madame Giry was blushing not being able to look up…little did Meg know what had been exchanged between she and Nadir. Meg squeezed Nadir's hand. He knew what she meant, and it was beyond what anyone else knew. They both had such high hopes for what could be. If it was true…if all of it were true…the possibilities for happiness for everyone were…in a word…infinite.

Raoul came down the hall, letter in hand, the seal not yet dry. "This should do Nadir…" Raoul smiled though he had to admit he was puzzled as to why they stood holding hands, all blushing, even Nadir. No doubt the family had been friends a great long while. He secretly hoped that Meg had not shared of their news without him, though from the looks on their faces, he believed she may have.

Raoul drew near the trio. Meg released her mother's hand, holding fast to Nadir's. Without a word, Madame Giry took up one of Raoul's hands, Meg took the envelope from his other hand setting it on the table, and took his hand into hers. In that moment, Raoul felt a rush that he'd not since his mother were alive. He felt like family.

The group stood smiling at one another, the more one smiled, the larger the smile of the next became. There was simply a delightful, exuberant, aura in the air, so real it was nearly palpable. Soon the lot of them were laughing, though they couldn't really say why. Laughter was a release for happiness much like crying was a relief for sorrow. No matter the cause, it came without warning, a welcome visitor.

Raoul released Meg's hand turning to embrace Madame Giry. Meg did the same with Nadir, whispering in his ear. "Travel safely my friend." He hugged her, "and you, get better my dear," he said looking her in the eye and tapping the end of her nose.

Nadir turned to shake Raoul's hand. "Do look after them while I am away sir, and I thank you," he said as he lifted the envelope from the table, "it might be such a thing that Sara's inn does not prove to be hospitable, and may necessitate I take you up on your most generous invitation." He smiled at first Raoul, then at Madame Giry. "And you Madame," Nadir reached out lifting her knuckles to his lips, "do take care. And thank you for permitting me the use of your suite should it be necessary."

She nodded, reaching forward to kiss Nadir on the cheek. "And you sir."

Raoul sighed, "let me escort you sir, to the sleigh…" Nadir nodded to Raoul and the pair walked off toward the door, chatting about how warm it was though the sky was overcast.

Madame Giry turned to her daughter. Neither was truly certain what had just taken place. So much had been communicated without words that they weren't at all sure what they'd done. It had been a peaceful, pleasant moment of intense emotion between the four of them. It could best be described as hope….a united hope that all would be well in the future, and the future would find them even happier still than they were at that moment.

XXXXX

Nicole woke. She looked over, her mother's bed was now empty. She stretched a bit before staring blankly up at the ceiling. She felt numb. She was still tired. Not the normal tired, but the tired one gets after years of toiling only to have it come to an unhappy conclusion.

It would be days only before the formalities of the funeral were over. The question of where to bury her grandmother had already been made years before. She wanted to be buried in Chauesser, much to her family's dismay. A plot had long ago been bought and paid for, a second plot on the same bit of ground would remain unoccupied, without explanation.

She sighed. She was not one to wallow in self pity, nor was she one to let her emotions get in the way of what needed to be done. This would be no different a situation. Had it been any other normal day, she'd have been at work, helping to tidy the tavern in preparation for dinner guests. As the inn was already full, and a guaranteed dining room brimming with customers still unable to travel the streets of Chauesser, she estimated the staff that had remained would be tired, overworked, and in need of help. She could do nothing to erase the past day's events, nor raise her grandmother from the dead. She would rise, she would work, she would help…it was all she had known, and in that routine she could take comfort.

XXXXX

Christine woke, squinting her eyes to see if the sun still shown around the sides of the curtains. It did not. The room was a bit chilly, the logs in the fireplace were dwindling. Erik was tucked neatly next to her, the poultices still affixed, though in a bit of disarray on his neck and chest. Christine braved the pungent odors of them to lay her head on Erik's chest. The rattling sound she had perceived earlier seemed a bit reduced, and he seemed to breathe a bit more freely. She smiled. It hadn't been Madame Giry's recipe, but it had sufficed.

She slipped from beneath the covers on the other side of the bed, padding quietly over to the fire. As she passed the door, her nose was greeted by the glorious scent of the stew she knew they had been preparing. The fragrant thyme and sage, complimented with the well-infused rich stock of the boiled chicken, making it all the more enticing. No doubt it would be near or just beyond the normal dinner hour.

She walked to the wardrobe, retrieving a long dress, suitable for evening, a bit warmer than the one she'd worn only hours before. She loved this shade of blue; she thought it brought out the blue in Erik's eyes when he stood next to her. She wandered back to the vanity, laying the dress down on the divan. She looked down; fully half of the apple strudel was gone. She smiled, looking over at Erik, had he? Sometime while she'd slept he'd found his way over to it, making something of a meal no doubt. She smiled again, at least she knew he'd enjoyed it, and after all that is why she'd made it!

Christine sat down at the vanity, pulling her hair up into the satin ribbons, twisting it as Madame Giry had taught her. Her hair was just like her mother's her father had said. It was as unruly as a stallion, yet as soft and beautiful as the coat of a newborn foal. Christine smiled whenever she thought of it.

She ran her hand down over her abdomen. She wondered of their children. Would there be a daughter among them? Dark tight curls with eyes as blue-green as the azure oceans of Erik's eyes? Would there be a son as handsome and strong as the man who now lay asleep in the bed not far from her? And what of the last one, would he or she be as wise or as talented as their father? She smiled rubbing her hand over and over the small bump. "I love you my little ones.." she said. Suddenly she felt a warm gentle hand run along her stomach.

"And I love you also," came the warm gentle voice of her husband.

She closed her eyes, smiling as she leaned back into his presence. As he slid his arms around her, drawing her into them, he lifted her into the cradle of his chest. He leaned down kissing her forehead, she turned her head exposing her cheek. He placed a gentle kiss on it, sliding his lips down her jawbone and down her neck. She suddenly knew why a kitten purred when it was pleased with one's touch. She tried to stifle the urge to giggle and flinch from the tickling sensation and learn to appreciate fully the joys of his touch.

Erik smiled as he felt Christine try to resist the urge to squirm, and in the end give in to the laughter that threatened to boil to the surface. "Christine, Christine, Christine…" he said kissing her chin, her cheek, her forehead.

Christine said, "Erik, you may rest while I ready myself. It is nearing the dinner hour my dear, and if we stay sleeping now we shall be up in the middle of the night unable to sleep." She smiled as she felt the warmth of his breath on the nape of her neck, he began whispering in her ear.

"Why should we have want to rise when comfort and warmth surrounds us? If we should rest now and wake in the silence of the night, do you wonder that we should have all the time in the world to enjoy one another's company?" Christine nodded, she had to agree, his words were not untrue.

"Erik, my dear sweet Erik," she said leaning back into his arms as he kneeled behind her. "It is wonderful to have you home my love." She smiled as she nestled her head back into his chest. "Oh ho I missed you while you were gone. Though I was not alone, I felt alone without you here."

He smiled kissing her forehead again, wrapping his arms protectively around her. Their eyes met in the reflection of the mirror. "You are as beautiful as a rose in the full bloom of spring my dear, I dare say that being with child agrees with you." Erik said, running one hand along her jaw.

Christine blushed. "I must confess, the absence of the tight corsets has been welcome, and the thought of eating doesn't frighten me so, though I must say that what I should eat and what I have want to eat are often two very different things."

Erik laughed, sliding around on his knees to Christine's side, she in turn turning on the seat to face him. "Did the doctor not tell you?" Erik asked Christine.

"To what do you refer?" Christine said inquisitively as Erik took her hands into his pressing his lips against the pair of knuckles.

"Of your cravings my dear, that they may often be at odds with your needs."

Christine cocked her head. Erik rose to sit on the bench next to her, turning to look at her in the mirror rather than in the eye. There was something entirely pleasant about looking at their reflections in the mirror. Erik and Christine neither had picture nor portrait, and looking at the mirror was the only way that Erik could see the pair of them together, and it was thrilling.

Christine smiled at him as he began to speak. They both enjoyed gazing upon themselves together, next to one another, in Christine's mind she was able to see them as a couple, as husband and wife. Today, Erik was able to picture the two of them together not with his mind's eye, but his real eyes, and it was a sight to behold. They sat smiling at one another for a long while, looking back and forth at the sight.

"We do rather make a handsome pair Erik." Christine said, nestling her head into his neck and gazing back at their reflection in the mirror.

He laughed, looking down into her eyes. "Christine my dear, how ever will I be able to love you more than I do now? Yet I am amazed at how each moment leads me to a greater love for you still."

She slid her hand up behind his neck pulling his head slowly towards hers taking it into a passionate kiss. Erik's skin tingled. He was no longer certain that the sensation of being wanted would ever not be foreign to him. It was a dream that he worried unconsciously would be snatched from him, just as he was once snatched from the only life he ever knew and put in a cage by the beasts that would use his tragedy for profit. Erik blinked.

"What is it Erik?" Christine said as she felt his frame go rigid from its relaxed wanton pose.

Erik pulled away just slightly. "It is nothing Christine." He said sweetly, blinking trying to push the memory that was trying to claw its way through his shroud of happiness.

Christine rubbed at his shoulder. "Erik, you know that your burdens have become my burdens. When I agreed that night to love you through the good times and in bad, those vows Erik…I took them most solemnly." She blinked looking at him, lifting his chin to look into his eyes. She assumed that the toils, the events, of the past day troubled him. The truth she did not know, was that it was not in fact the recent past, but the distant past that held the unspeakable horrors that haunted him.

Erik looked down into her eyes. "Christine, there are things from my past that I do not even understand, cannot articulate, wrap my thoughts around, how is it that I could even begin to explain them." He swallowed, "what bearing do they have on our future, our life together now…..that was a lifetime ago, when I was a lost soul…but I am no longer lost, no longer a meaningless apparition, a ghastly specter." Erik took Christine's hands into his, "Christine I am now your husband, father to our children," He said as he ran his hand across her stomach. "This, this is our future, why must we speak of a past that would only threaten to destroy every shred of happiness we now possess?"

Christine looked at him compassionately. There was something so pleading, so vulnerable in his eyes. She knew with a fair degree of certainty, that he was this vulnerable with not another soul on this earth, and if anyone came close it would be Nadir. Nadir's words of caution, rung in her head… "Christine there will be things he shall never be able to speak of, lest they destroy him, be comfortable with a man whose past you may never know, do this out of love for him." Though his words did not fall on deaf ears, Christine exercised her own judgment, however misguided, that of a wife who needed to love him, needed to help him. There was a long pause of silence.

"Erik, do not think that I wish to pry at what is long past, for that is not my intention. Some things will remain forever in the past, long forgotten, long forgiven by God Himself…those things cease to exist in His eyes, so they shan't exist in mine."

Erik glanced down at Christine. He understood forgiveness. He knew that what was forgiven by God had been erased, though it did not mean that it had been wiped from his memory. "Christine, I.."

Though she had never silenced him when they were but mentor and student, as his wife, she took those liberties, for his sake. "Erik, I've a sense from the pain that rises to your eyes that there are things you've yet to forgive yourself for…I understand not the struggle you go through for they are yours and yours alone, but I do understand the journey, the journey to forgiving oneself, and it is a lonely, difficult road. Know simply that though I do not have knowledge of WHAT it is that you struggle with, that you no longer walk this road alone. I will be here for you, no matter what it might have been Erik, no matter at all." Christine swallowed hard as she looked up at Erik, his lips were trembling, and a tear threatened to breach his lower lid.

He blinked looking at her. "Christine if you knew, you would not be so quick to convey your tolerance, your forgiveness, I am not worthy of.."

She pulled him rather quickly to her kissing his lips firmly. She gently leaned away, "isn't that.." she ran her hand along his cheek, "isn't that the most exquisite part of forgiveness? Knowing that we are not worthy, we need not, nor could we ever be worthy of forgiveness for our trespasses…that is what makes it so glorious, so liberating! Though we are not worthy, He forgives anyway?"

Christine looked up at Erik with pleading eyes. "Forgiveness does not mean that we forget, for some things we never shall, but it means that we are no longer held to account for what we confess and are truly sorry for." Erik looked away, her honesty was all too overwhelming. "Erik, I know you torture yourself still for your past, it is all too obvious in your eyes, your repose." Christine said as she ran her fingers along his shoulder and down his arm until it joined his hand. "Erik, let me help you. Let me help you erase that which haunts you."

Erik looked at her, a sudden flash in his eyes, the horrors could never be erased, she knew nothing of those horrors! Erik pulled his hand away, standing and moving over to the fire. He kneeled and began putting small logs in, pushing at them with the poker.

Christine's lips trembled as she sat on the bench by the vanity. She raised her hand wiping a single tear from beneath her eye. She mustered her courage, "Erik, why? Why is it that you refuse my help, refuse my love when it could be of most use to you?" She paused, her breath catching as she watched him looking into the growing flames. "Do you not trust me?"

Erik eyes flashed, she had hit a tender point, and try though he might to stifle them, the words slipped from his tongue before he could bridle it. "Trust you…as I trusted you with this?" He rose walking over to the bust of Chopin, lifting it, twisting the bottom and releasing the keys into his hand.

Christine's eyes grew wide, her hand drew to her mouth….how had he known, had someone observed her…no…he'd spoken to no one but her since he'd been home. Her reaction betrayed her. "Erik, I…"

He rose his hand, looking away as he squeezed the keys in his other, putting the bust back on its pedestal. "Did you feel threatened?" Erik said, a sardonic tone in his voice. Christine could not look at him, she shook her head. "Did you have need to pay someone?" Again, she shook her head, no, she'd no need for funds. "Did you have need to hide, need to put something in the cellar, need to escape from the house, need for a gun or a saber?" Yet again, she shook her head no. "Then what Christine…..then what need had you for these?" He dangled the keys out in front of him. His jaw was tight, his eyes fixed and flashing a steely blue.

She sat silent. How he had discovered it still perplexed her. He walked over to her lifting her hand. Not the loving touch of her husband, but the stern hand of one teaching a lesson, and though he'd never revealed himself while she was his pupil, she surmised he might have grasped her hand as such when she'd been disobedient.

"Come, let us go to what you sought, you can show me my dear, that which you needed to find while I was gone, that which could not wait until I returned."

Christine looked at him with a bit of trepidation in her eyes…what did he know? Erik neither waited for her to donn a robe, nor slippers. He led her without a word, from their bedchamber out into the hall and down the stairs. Not a soul stirred in all of the house, or if they did their discretion was impeccable. He led her down the long corridor that would end at the very room she had been in…the room with the desk. A lump grew in her throat. She could tell if not by his lack of words, then certainly by his grip on her hand that he was displeased. Her heart began to race as they reached the door.

He turned, and for the first time since they'd left their room, he looked at her. "I gave you my trust freely, without question…" then he turned pushing the door open. The lump in her throat grew and it felt as if it were her very heart rising to escape her body to hide itself from that which it knew had to come next. Erik led her over to the desk, and gently put her hand over the raised ring in the wood.

She began to run her hand across it, her eyes growing wide…she had put her tea cup there…she closed her eyes…it had betrayed her.

"Yes my dear…." Erik said as he walked away from her, back turned, "did you know that this desk belonged to Louis the XIV?" Her eyes pressed closed…he had given her so very much, and this one thing…this one thing which he did not share she had felt bold enough, selfish enough to deprive him of….how had she managed to become so brazen. She could say nothing.

"It is among my prized possessions…he was a man of great power, the greatest King France has ever bred, great architect, great thinker…a great many things. Now it is blemished. It had survived wars, fires, and auction, all of the finest treachery man had to offer, and now…" He walked toward her, coming to rest next to her, his hand placed firmly over hers, pressing it down over the swollen wood, "and now it fell in its perfection to the hands of curiosity…prying eyes that sought that which did not belong to them, that which was not offered them…" Christine could not even look up. "How could you Christine….how could you…" His voice trailed off as he walked away from her, his back turned again. Truly, the ring had betrayed the woman….and she had betrayed the man. The betrayal was not that of words, but of actions…it was unspoken.

**Author's Notes**:

**PhantomsRogue**: Yes, a person is only as good as their promise…I shall, though it may not be until next week. I hate to return e-mails just for the sake of doing it. If I cannot give it proper attention, then it waits. I hope you understand…if it is any consolation, it is the same for me in person. If I am having a conversation with someone, I want them to feel like they are the only person in the world at that very moment…perhaps yet another quirk in my personality I'm afraid!

Our two minds together could be a dangerous thing! LOL! The story shall be a good one, I've no doubt, even if we are the only two who appreciate it! Telepathic indeed!

So glad you caught the undertaker's thoughts. That might be important later…there is always some meddlesome character popping up isn't there? I loved your thoughts on Erik, but as you see from this chapter, he is a CHANGING man, not a changed man. His temper threatens him yet…

Um, yes, about that last stocking, I think it should be Christian Bale, or Johnny Depp. I'm afraid I'd have to have an eighth stocking (a week plus a spare) for I could not choose between the two. I plan to rent the movie 'American Psycho' this weekend with Bale. I've heard its quite good, if not a bit disturbing…something good for the eve of Halloween don't you think? LOL!

The translation, I'm so glad you asked.

Le bon jour mon âme-soeur, ma soeur Good day my kindred spirit, my sister

Have a great time on Monday night…alas, I have a special "treat" reserved for our story for Monday!

**WriterMuseoftheNight**: Yes, pleading the fifth is a favorite of mine especially if it is to safeguard the development of the story! LOL! I hope that this chapter did not disappoint… Erik is such a complex creature…I cannot imagine he could have allowed this to pass without attention. Patience when one feels threatened is something that has to be learned…our automatic response is to retaliate, to protect oneself. Erik's past was as dark and painful as I could imagine. It wouldn't have been out of the question if he'd never be able to truly trust again!

Have a great weekend!

**Batteredchild**: Thank you, I rather enjoyed the secret rooms myself. It is just what one would expect from someone like Erik. He knows, perhaps better than anyone that being able to defend oneself, to wage whatever revenge, to do what one must in times of peril…one must be prepared for every plausible eventuality. His intelligence just keeps peeking through…he was smart enough to hide things in odd places, and never all things together lest one be discovered. I do think it is a testament to his feelings for Christine that he even shared the locations of any of them with her…even Nadir didn't know of them!

Hope the music exam went well! Perhaps or beloved Erik channeled some energy your way to give you added strength…after all this is one of his areas of expertise! LOL!

Have a great weekend!

**Faeriecatcher1**: Ancient literature is a beautiful distraction. Now do not misunderstand me, I love modern movies as much as anyone…(you should see my collection) but there is something spiritually moving about reading a story that was written hundreds of years ago by an author whose spirit lives on through their literature. I don't know how to describe it, there is a special feeling when you are embracing the words of someone who sat penning them long years before you were born, when the world was a different place… It is the oddest sort of connection to the past. Really, if you embrace literature in this way, it gives it a whole new pleasure, a layer of enjoyment that the author could only have dreamed of when they wrote it!

Erik and Christine's relationship is the centerpiece of this story…whatever else happens is merely window dressing for a love so strong and true that it has the power to heal those that are touched by it. I sometimes think when I'm writing about their feelings that the readers will find it redundant, a repetition that makes them grow weary, but I cannot help myself. When a love is this strong…it commands our respect don't you think?

I hope you have a great weekend!

**Phantomfan13**: Our poor Erik indeed! Didn't you just want to go in and rub his shoulder, tell him it was going to be o.k.? I am glad to hear that you could picture him in your mind. I could see him…his masculine frame leaned over the desk, giving in to the emotions he was always trying to hide even from himself…sighs If only he could allow himself to deal with his emotions, his memories…then perhaps he could allow Christine inside of his world.

'The Man in the Iron Mask', yes, I've seen it. You do know that this was a true story don't you? Something about it being true made it that much more intense to watch. I thought Leonardo did a great job…though it is a little eerie for me to watch because he looks so much like my brother…it was like watching my brother on screen! Yes, I eagerly await the movie 'Casanova', and it almost goes without saying that I would love to see 'Pride and Prejudice' it will be so very much fun. I would love to go to the film festivals where they will be premiered, but alas I've neither the time nor the resources to go right now, though I wish I could!

Of all the periods in history, I love, love, love, the colonial period…everything from the early 1700's forward to just the turn of the early 1900's. To me, anything after that is too recent to appreciate fully, or with any romanticism. There was something about the industrial revolution that changed the way our world behaved. We worried less about our neighbors, became less altruistic, became more self-sufficient, and generally, I think that was nearly the death of philosophy….no one wanted to listen to it anymore…like the machines had replaced the importance of the workings of the brilliant minds. Sorry, not that I don't appreciate the things that we now enjoy, I'm simply saddened by the fact that we are now so preoccupied by what the machines can do, and less so with people. Now that I've completely moved away from the topic…I shall be silent!

Have a great weekend!

**Nordygirl**: Yet another laugh inducing song! I have to say you are creative, and I can hear music in my head when I read them….Erik would be so proud… "music inside my mind…" Yikes… If you are going to use the song "If I Were a Rich Man" from 'Fiddler on the Roof', please let me know if you are using the original version, or the one that is playing on the radio now…no doubt you've heard it… "If I were a rich girl…." LOL! I can only imagine that Tivia would not be amused by the rendition! LOL!

Christine's hormones are affecting her…and spilling over to Erik…most likely as he feels so connected to her…poor man…as if he didn't already have enough to deal with!

Have a great weekend…and don't eat too much candy on Monday!

**Phantomphorever**: Thank you for your reassuring words. I can always picture scenes in my mind when I'm writing them…what I appreciate knowing is that the words somehow convey that and allow the reader to picture it in their mind when they read it. I just imagined him having an utterly vulnerable moment there. He is a strong, strong, man, but the instant that he had a fleeting doubt about the one person he was so sure he could trust (Christine) it made him question everything again, if however briefly. He's had this pain suppressed for so long that now that he is coming in touch with what it feels like to live in a world where emotions rule, he is having to learn how to deal with memories that are erupting now through the small cracks in his soul that are being created by being loved. This sounds way more complicated than I meant for it to be…but hopefully you get the idea. If you can imagine Erik to be a volcano…though I am not a volcanologist, I imagine him to be like Pelee in Hawaii, a slow moving low-viscosity lava flow from a shield volcano. He now has openings in his soul and slowly, but certainly, his emotions are oozing out, creating a new surface…a new human on the outside. Now I really have gone off the deep end…too much caffeine again today I'm afraid!

Have a great weekend!


	147. Passion and Forgiveness

Chapter 147 Passion and Forgiveness 

**Dear Faithfuls**: It is my hope that you find that this is not trick, but rather a treat… The entire chapter is devoid of anyone except Erik and Christine, I hope that no one minds. It was simply too important for this issue to be considered without the distraction of any of the other characters in the story. Somehow I imagine, that no one will mind…enjoy.

Erik stood his arms raised above his head, palms pressed heavily against the wooden frame of the bookcase that lay at the back of the room. "I've told you of all which you needed to know…and this one thing I needed private…to myself…you wished to deprive me of?" Erik was trying to calm his temper, though inside he was a seething mess.

Christine could not speak, for what plausible explanation could she give that would not betray the fact that Misty had noticed him in the drawer? If she told him as much, Misty would be swiftly removed from the house, and for no cause of her own. She'd done nothing more than answer Christine's questions when she was searching for a book. No, this was her responsibility, and hers alone. She might well have searched for the drawer herself, Misty's information only drew her attention more swiftly to it.

Erik huffed, "have you nothing to say for yourself Christine?" He pressed his eyes tightly shut, inhaling and exhaling stiffly, trying, desperately trying to contain the rage that so easily swelled within him whenever he felt threatened. "Help me…..help me to understand why you'd have needed anything, anything at all from that drawer?"

Christine felt a sob rising in her chest. Erik moved to her taking her shoulders into his hands firmly. He lowered his gaze, and though a fleeting thought of pity crossed his mind as he looked into her fear-filled eyes, he could not stop himself. "What was it, what had I not given you freely that you would have needed? What brought you here to this room, to this desk, to this….to this betrayal?"

Christine's brow furrowed as she looked up at him. Her confidence suddenly returning, if however slightly….she'd not betrayed him. "Betrayal? How say you such a thing of your wife? I have been most trustworthy, protecting you at every turn, and now you've the audacity to think, after all of this, that I would somehow betray you?" Christine moved away from him, turning to look at him from a distance.

"I'd sooner lay my own life down than to betray you. I've given you all of me, my heart, my love, my innocence, my body, my very life….what good would it come to, for me to betray you? You Erik, should know better than anyone what was risked, what was given, what was sacrificed by not only me, but all those that care for you to allow us to be where we are at this very moment."

Christine stood looking at him, an injured man. One burned and hurt to the core.

He'd seen far more grief than a soul ought, and though he could be happy for a time, there was a rotting core that would have to be plucked and pruned before true happiness could invade, permeate his soul. It had been like adding fresh milk to a can of sour. Soon it would all become sour unless the lot of it was poured out, rinsed clean, and a fresh offering deposited into it.

"Erik, I've not betrayed you…yes, I shall admit that I did venture to open the drawer, but it was only to look for a book, something that I wished to read, to surprise you with my knowledge when you returned, to give me a bit of comfort in the presence of your great mind….it is that which I searched for, at least at first."

Erik turned furrowed brow looking at her. "I would be a fool, nay, a liar if I told you I was not perplexed, and then intrigued by the locked drawer, and it was that which drove me to the keys that you so adeptly found that I'd retrieved. But, you know as well as I that not one key on that ring will release that lock….so how is it that I could have betrayed you?"

Erik sighed, she hadn't figured out the lock…he was relieved. "Erik, I concede I tried the drawer, but it did not open. I've come to regret it. I had supposed it was something that you overlooked, having shown me all the other hidden things in our house Now that I have knowledge of it as something you wish as private, I shan't ask you…I shan't ask again." She inhaled slowly, swallowing….mustering her courage….it had to be said. She looked at him with all the seriousness she could manage, "Someday if you are willing to spill out that which spoils, nay threatens your happiness, and allow me to love you, to fill your soul as you have filled mine, I shall be here, but until then I shan't ask of it again. I've no desire to intrude on what you'll not share…I've only desire to love you Erik, and some day you'll understand that…if, and only if, you can ever believe that I love you with all of my heart…" Christine could hold her confidence no longer, she began to cry.

Erik came toward her, already feeling contrite. She raised one hand, "no", she said. She dipped her hand into the pocket of the robe Erik now wore, handing him the envelope, the letter that she'd written for him. She looked up at him, and said the few words that stung at Erik's ears, "If you doubt that I love you after you read this, then this entire marriage, these past months, these past years have been nothing but a glorious lie." She turned and ran from the room, quickly taking flight to the second floor, she ran down the hall to their bedchamber, closing and locking the door behind her.

Christine threw herself once more on their bed, just as she had the day before, sobbing from the depths of her soul. She was equally as mad at herself as she was at him. She shouldn't have pried, he shouldn't have assumed….she wanted to love him, but until he was ready to rid his soul of the putrid memories, her love and affections were nothing more than a façade over a soul that held such torment. She had been foolish to think that a man so wounded could ever be healed in such a short time.

There was much to love him through…yes, she would be there, through every step of it, though it shan't be easy. She ran her hand along her stomach, perhaps the new life, flesh of his flesh, would convince him he was a man redeemed, no longer beholden to the debts of his past, only the future to look forward to, to plan for, to be loved in.

Erik had waited, briefly assessing her words before he silently pursued her. Reaching the door, he found it locked, and heard her as she sobbed pitifully moaning. His tears of self hate for doing this to her, such a precious soul….flowing freely down his chest. His head hung low, his palm on the door as he began to cry…he should be holding her, apologizing, begging her forgiveness…how could he have doubted…why had his anger gotten the best of him…twice in the last day… He stood there palms against the door until he heard her begin to sniffle and then there was silence. No doubt she'd fallen off to sleep from the exhaustion.

Erik looked down at the envelope in his hand. "My dearest Erik" inscribed on the face of it. He pressed his eyes shut. She did love him… He slid his hand from the door and wandered to the room next, the one that would one day, not many months from now, be the nursery for their children. He walked in, first tendering a fire to warm the room, then he sat down in the large rocking chair that lay in the center of it. He began to gently rock back and forth. As the fire grew it began to light the room.

Soon there was sufficient light for him to read. He held the envelope to his lips kissing it. Whatever it contained, his Christine had written it…the very first she'd ever shared her written words with him…he would cherish it, whatever it was, for the remainder of his days. He slid his thumb beneath the seal, depositing the contents into his hand. The envelope lay in his lap, he opened the first of the sheets…he began to read…

_My dearest, dearest, Erik,_

_I'm finding myself entirely alone at this moment, thinking of only you. Watching the storm outside has proved to be an unworthy distraction as it too makes me think of you. The brave soul that you are having gone out in it in hopes of saving a woman you barely know. _

_The snow is deep, and the skies grow dark, and I realize I shan't be seeing you again before morning light. As I sit alone in the room that only hours ago provided shelter for our passions, I am reminded of you yet again. It makes me miss you terribly. To that end, I hope you'll not mind that I've borrowed, however temporarily, several garments that belong to you. Your nightshirt, your robe, even now take the place of the arms that I long to hold me. _

_I was speaking of you to our children today. Speaking of your bravery, your compassion. That I've never known a man such as their father in all of my life. For truly, there are none like you. _

_In the months since our marriage, so very much has happened. I know I need not recant the details, for you know them as well as I. What my heart aches to tell you is how very loved you are, and how very loved I feel. I fear my words may not contain the eloquence with which you yourself write, but they are straight and true, I pray you'll understand._

_You have been the wind in my sails, the very life blood that flows through my heart, the air that rushes in and out of my lungs with each living breath. When first I came to the Opera House, I was a frightened little girl. Alone, and deeply saddened by my father's loss. I cried myself to sleep in the middle of the night. I was alone…and then you found me. _

_There was a voice, whispering to me in the darkness, calming me, reassuring me. It was not long that the mere sound of your voice calmed my senses, soothed my soul. Soon, I found myself talking to you, though you did not reply, I knew you were listening. _

_I began to wonder if it had all been in mind, a grand illusion, the longings of a grieving girl, lost in the depths of her sorrows. In a short while longer, you began to sing to me…oh how my heart fluttered when I heard your voice! My father had conveyed his affections as much by music as by touch and word, and in my heart they had all become one in the same…a great love from a father to his daughter. When you sang, my mind was floating and I was taken far from the cruel reality that had settled upon me. _

_I still recall with great fondness, the first time I sang with you. A song you'd sung to me so often. It was not intended, nor planned, but a mere act of adulation, genuflection. I thought I heard a tremor in your voice as if you'd begun to cry. My tiny voice was no match for yours, but I could not refrain, it was as if there was an unspoken invitation woven into your music, beckoning me to join you. _

_You were so gentle and kind, encouraging me at every turn. It wasn't long before our encounters each evening began with a lesson…and ended with your voice, wishing me well, bidding me to rest, to care for myself, and my favorite…that which warms my heart still…that you'd be watching over me…my angel. Those years you loved me, guided me, taught me. You led me down a narrow path that was in utter accord with that which Madame Giry was telling me of a life of a proper young woman. Little did I know then of your relationship with her…I'd not know for years. _

_I blush, at the thought of a long overdue confession. It is now that I must tell you, though it seems frivolous and moot considering our subsequent marriage vows, but I'd had an admiration for you. A fascination far beyond that of your voice; since first I realized as a small girl what love could be. I wanted to believe so badly that angel could become flesh, specter could be tangible. In my own small naïve way…I'd fallen in love with you. _

_How can one love what they cannot touch? I could not say, but I knew only that in my heart I truly loved you. As time passed and our lessons became more numerous, I learned how to respect you, not out of fear, but out of unmitigated esteem of your skill. You only expected the best from me. I in turn, wanting to please you, expected no less of myself. _

_As I grew into a young woman, not far in age from the woman I am now, my heart ached. I realized I'd grown to love a soul that I could never touch, never possess…it grieved me deeply in ways I shan't be able to mention until now. I could never have imagined leaving you, and yet I knew one day, I'd be wanting for a family, a home, yet my soul forbid me to even think of it…I could never leave my angel. _

_I knew you sensed my distraction. My lessons became rather abrupt, you feeling a bit distant to me toward the end, just a bit distant…I knew that you cared for me. It was almost as if you were preparing to let me go…. It was then that I started to hide in the gardens behind the Opera House, crying. I could never leave you, never. You'd been there for me for so long. Nurturing, protecting, and loving me in every way that was possible for you. I'd wonder in the moments that I cried in the gardens, if you were an angel, why could you not go with me, wherever I went? Then could two worlds actually be possible for me? But lo, I knew not. For even if I should find a suitor, I shan't be able to love him, for my heart had already been given to another. Would that be fair to some worthy man? I knew it shan't. _

_In all of this time, and things that we've been through together since first you revealed yourself, man of flesh and bone, man I could touch, kiss, love, I knew my heart and mind were sound, I could never have loved another. You had my heart, you had my soul…no one else could have possessed me, for you had already. _

_A new fear grew within me. A fear of being able to touch what I'd longed for, knowing of your truest existence, your anger, your passions….somehow that frightened me. So very strange, that which I'd hoped for, nay, longed for, once arrived, frightened me to no end. For a brief moment of pure insanity, in my fear, I'd thought about leaving all I had behind, to live a life of an aristocrat. But deep in my heart, even as I uttered those words to the poor unfortunate, would-be suitor, I knew it was him I deceived, as well as myself. I could no sooner have gone with him than I could have lived without the beating of my very heart…and that I had given to you and you alone. There was so much confusion. I'd hurt you…I'd hurt him…and I was driving myself mad. _

_It is to that end, that my gratitude for your actions will forever be undying. In your courage, or what you've confessed as desperation, you pushed me to make a decision that my heart had already made, but my mind had refused to accept. In that moment, when at the top of the bridge during Don Juan, we joined bodies, you laying your hands on me for the first time in the acceptance of my returning affections, I was alive. Though as good as being brought back from the dead. There was no room for question any longer, not in my mind….I had only one thing left to do, and that was beg your forgiveness for my actions. It is a matter of course we know how things traveled from that point forward. _

_Those next days and hours after our departure from that world, are memories that will warm me to the depths of my soul until my dying breath…the most tender moments a soul should ever be blessed enough to have. Our love, your love for me, my love for you, I cannot imagine anything stronger, nor truer, nor more potent and intoxicating. _

_Now, as I sit here in this room, the fruits of our love growing inside me, I think back with such sweetness on the years that you loved me, and the years that I loved you. I shan't ask for anything more in all the world than for you to be home sharing in the comfort of my affections. Truly home is in your arms, so neither of us, at this moment are at home. I am wishing for Godspeed and mercy to carry you back my love, my dear precious husband…my angel._

_With all of my heart, Christine_

Erik let the pages fall to his lap. He began to cry without hesitation. He felt as if his heart was a million shards sprinkling from his spewing soul in a shower of sorrow. She loved him, she trusted him with everything that she was, and more importantly, more poignantly with everything she would ever be.

How could he not let her love him, help him? Perhaps it was his own fear, no horror, at facing that which threatened to pull him into the depths once more… He didn't know if he would ever have courage to face them….those horrid memories of the unspeakable…of his disregard for the sanctity of life….oh how it haunted him, and try though he might to ignore it, it threatened him at ever turn when he tried to revel in the joy and happiness of his present circumstances.

He was a new husband, to the most angelic creature any man, yes any man…could have hoped for. She carried his children, the seed of their love inside of her….she was his future…. He had to relinquish his past…though he felt ill equipped to do so. He had always been the teacher, the leader, the strong one…the thought of the vulnerability…of not being in control…terrified him. She loved him so very much…so very much.

The tears flowed so freely down his cheeks that he wondered if he would ever run dry, they seemed to have no end. Then he heard it… At first he thought it was his imagination…then he watched, and his eyes knew that he saw movement. "Christine?" His voice wavered.

The door between the rooms slowly opened. She peeked in just a bit, her own face red and puffy. Erik rose, "Christine…"

She opened the door fully, running to his arms. He embraced her, and though he tried to be strong he could not, he sobbed openly, freely…..and so did she. "I am sorry Christine…how foolish could one man be…to doubt….after all this time…."

Christine put her arms as tightly about his middle as her arms would allow, running her hands up and down his back. "Erik…I shall not pry…I am sorry….if you shall never tell me….I will love you….I shan't ask….I am sorry…I shan't know the pains of your past….I only know the love of your present, the love of your future…I shall hold fast to that…and that alone."

Erik pulled Christine up into his arms, nestling his head into her neck. "I love you Christine…I am sorry, for ever doubting…for being angry…"

She ran her arms around his neck. "you may tell me anything that you need. I shall trust that I am in your heart…I don't understand…there are times that I shan't know what you need, what causes you pain…but I will be here for you….whatever you need, if it be an ear, let me lend it, if it is the silent warmth of my arms, let me extend them to you, if it is the passions that we share, let me give them to you freely, if it is understanding without question, let it be so."

Erik's eyes showed the bareness of his soul…he'd given her the key to his heart…she had unknowingly possessed that for years. Now, she had taken it, refashioning it within her own heart, and used it to unlock the very depths of the darkest parts of his soul.

An indescribable gratitude filled him. So overwhelming in truth, there were no words to describe it; truly it transcended description. It was a feeling of intensity, of the sweetest, purest, form. He looked into her eyes, she was never more beautiful, nor more desirable to him than she was at that moment.

He kneeled, lowering Christine to the ground on the soft pile of blankets that lay off by the fire. She looked at him with such longing, it was unspoken, though she desired him with so much of her it made her tremble at his touch. She'd never made it to dressing in the dress of sapphire that lay on the divan. The simple nightgown she now wore, proved to be of little trouble as he quickly removed it exposing the tenderness of her flesh.

He took her lips into his, caressing her neck as he lay down with her. Their love quickly grew into passions so great; they loved each other with abandon. Looking at one another in those moments knowing the physical act of their passions was of but a perfunctory purpose, for their real love was communicated by the intangible essence of their souls. It was something no man could lay hands on. It was a mingling of spirits…and that had no need for flesh.

They loved in the shadows of the fire for a long while. It was the most passionate of times they had ever shared and there was no doubt in either of their minds that no love was ever greater between two people than theirs.

Erik finally came to rest next to Christine, the essence of forgiveness fresh upon their lips. He pulled the blanket over them as they lay on the floor trembling. Christine nestled into Erik's chest, kissing it as she gasped, trying to catch her breath. The pair were nearly too warm to be covered, and Erik pulled the covers down to their waists. He ran his hand along Christine's shoulder, she was covered in a glistening sheen. He raised his head slightly blowing on her flesh. As the moisture evaporated with his breath, she closed her eyes taking in the tenderness of it. She smiled. "Erik…" she gasped.

He took her into the fullness of his arms, caressing her back. "Christine…mon cheri…" She began to run her hand along his chest mindlessly…she never wanted to leave that moment…never….

Erik held Christine in his arms so tenderly. She was far more than his wife…he could never quite remove the description of the Greek Philosopher Plato from his mind. He had described it perfectly…she was his split-apart…the half in the universe that made him whole. He looked down at her, into the depths of her eyes, it was magic.

As with any element in nature, there was a complicated dance which took place before fusion was actualized. Their merging of spirits, of souls, was no different…it was elemental. As strong as any bond that nature could produce. It was the very essence of living…not merely existing without purpose, but living within the beauty of it. How truly blessed he was to hold her in his arms…truly blessed. Time after loving time, her presence assured him he was not damned as he'd always thought, had been told he was. He was worthy of love…but it took a pure soul to convince him…she was truly heaven sent.

Christine had felt his love, his presence with her many times before. There was something so entirely different about this encounter, this exchange…was it because of their quarrel? Was it because it had been so unexpected? She couldn't describe it, but it was a mutual surrender…how else to described it…she knew not. She'd promised him, she would not question. Bit by bit she secretly hoped he would let down those walls. Let her help him…but she had a lifetime to do it, and she…she would learn to be patient with him, as he had been with her all those long years. A lesson finally learned in her heart. She smiled. Everything good in her life she had learned from him.

She shivered. Erik thought of pulling another blanket over her, but realized she would be much more comfortable in the warmth and comfort of their bed. He rose to his knees, scooping her up into his arms. She clung to him, the blanket draped over her billowing as he moved with great agility to their bedchamber. He carried her through the door back to their bed. As he laid her down and came to rest next to her, he pulled the covers over them, extending his arm to her. She nestled in to her favorite place.

Neither could fall asleep, for tired, they were not. "Tell me of it Erik," Christine said.

He smiled, "tell you of what my dear?"

"The piano…there is a story is there not?"

He nodded his head, rubbing her shoulder with his hand. "Why yes my dear there is…yes there is."

**Author's Notes:**

Captainoblivious: Sorry to hear of your recent misfortune. I hope the swelling has gone down by now. So…do tell…what happened to Pat? Did the Patmobile take him to far off places never to be seen or heard from again? Or…did Rob scare him off? Hmmmm something like an Erik/Raoul going on my dear? LOL! Perhaps Rob will have to be Erik…no perhaps he is Raoul…something from your childhood…anyway, it could all be rather complicated.

Though I did miss you, I am glad to hear that you were appropriately focused on those mid-terms. They are very important, its sort of where the "rubber-meets-the-road" kind of thing. Its where you find out if what you think your professor has been trying to teach you is what he thinks he's been teaching you! I found in college that those two ends did not always agree! LOL! Hope they went well for you.

Now as for buffing out the ring….it cannot be so…and Erik would not be that easily tricked. Besides, a bit of a fight could not destroy a relationship like theirs! It in fact makes it stronger when they realize that they may not always agree, that they may on occasion feel disappointed or angry, but it doesn't change the fact that they love each other….it in fact helps their relationship to grow even deeper….hard to believe that it would be possible isn't it? They do love each other, and I think this chapter may have said it all….

Good to hear from you my dear. Keep up the hard work at school. One day you will be ever so thankful that you embraced your education…for truly that is the best part of life…adding to who you are…a little every day! For if we stop learning, we stop living.

**Phantomsrogue**: First, let me say I have not forgotten my promise…I will return that e-mail. Second, and it has begun to make me wonder about how you and I found each other, truly. My sister and I, some years ago had a difficult patch, we hardly spoke for over a year. (How strange that you'd have something similar happen). We missed several holidays together, and generally it became a more painful experience as time went on. Neither she, nor I would concede our point, as both felt correct, and justified. I'd tried writing her a letter, which only made matters worse for a time. Then, one spring day, I was walking out of my office, and there she was. "Have you eaten?" Those were her first words to me since Christmas the year before. Slowly, we began catching up on things. Our first lunch was a painful one, awkward to say the least. Then it led to a lunch a week later, and slowly, we came to a point where we decided, we would not forget, nor would we be able to agree on what had caused us this separation. But, we simply had to forgive and get beyond it, because being sisters was far more important than either of us being right. We've had quarrels, sometimes heated ones since then, but we've vowed never to let it get to that point again. Life was simply too short to spend parted from someone who knows you and understands you likely better than most other people in your life. Now, I am not trying to give you advice by any means, but it is all too strange that we would have this too in common. Just something to think about my dear.

Now as for the title of the third chapter…yes, I rather fancy it. We will have to get to writing that soon, it is rather starting to grow a life of its own already! LOL!

Our dear Erik, and poor Christine. Erik has made much progress, so very much, but what he has done, as Christine so adeptly points out, is that he's put on a cloak of happiness, hiding all the putrid, rotting, destructive memories inside. He wants, needs, to be healed, but until he rids himself of those terrible memories, everything else he does only strengthens the exterior…it does nothing for the core of him. I think he is finding out that in order to be truly loved by this woman, he must clean out that which HE even fears to face. How, oh how does one face down such things with the help of a person whom you've vowed to protect? He has never been good at being vulnerable, indeed he's fought that his entire life…how indeed! Yes, you do just want to wrap your arms around Erik the little boy, tell him he's loved, tell him its o.k., tell him that all is forgiven. Reassure him that he deserves to live, to be happy, and that you are desperately waiting to see him use the talents he's been given, because you see so much potential in him….so much potential…. ahhhhh….sighs that is what I see!

I had planned to rent 'American Psycho' this weekend, but it never turned out quite the way I planned. Last night I quite unexpectedly had an invitation to this great Italian restaurant in the City. It was quite lovely, the décor, the ambience, the food, and of course the company. It was a most pleasant distraction from a busy weekend! But now, tonight, after the trick-or-treaters have gone on their merry way, (did I mention I'm going to be blaring POTO on my stereo? My neighbors will no doubt think it is just my usual state of affairs! LOL) I shall sit down and watch the movie, though I admit I am a bit apprehensive myself. I shall let you know how it goes.

Oh, yes, as for the last stocking, I too would have to go with Depp….he is pretty darned good…dark and brooding…ooo, la, la! I can hardly wait to see the next two installments of 'Pirates'!

On another side note, I finally made it to the theater to see 'Flight Plan'. The performances were good, though the plot was not developed well enough…I've rather been disappointed with movies lately in that regard. If the plot isn't plausible, how in the world are you going to care if it turns out? Anyway, I did get to see a few previews…I am now looking forward even more, to 'Casanova', 'Memoires of a Geisha', and 'Pride and Prejudice'. I think I shall be spending some quality time in the theaters during the coming months!

Le bon jour mon âme-soeur, ma soeur !

**WriterMuseoftheNight**: Thank you for the compliment…could you just see Erik getting mad? Yes our dear little Christine was rather naïve to have done what she did! Erik needs to be a bit more patient, but he's never really learned to fully trust, not anyone, as we saw chapters before even with Nadir, his oldest friend.

I too feel for Meg and Nadir. It would be entirely sweet if one day they could have everything out in the open, though there are so many potential complications, and I fear one day they shall come to the precipice and have to decide.

Yes, I do think that Nadir will be needing to get to that family tree…but there are a few things that will distract him in the coming chapters….oh…I can say no more!

Do take care. I hope that this chapter put your anticipation (at least somewhat) to rest, if only for one night! LOL!

**Phantomlover05**: Glad to hear you liked it. It just seemed to be something that Erik, nay, the Phantom would have done….always prepared for whatever he might need. Makes you wonder doesn't it…what might be hidden at Courtland Manor? Hmmm…..

I hope that you are relieved to find that they are no longer angry with each other…in fact quiet the opposite! Did you really think Erik could stay mad at HIS Christine?

Have a good night! Don't eat too much candy!

**NordyGirl**: Laughs, laughs…I can just imagine you doing the jig that Tivia did while you were composing these verses! You do have a creative mind! "Rocks my Sock?" laughs and shakes head simultaneously Have a great night…

**Phantomphorever:** Thank you for the reassurance in regard to Christine and Erik's continuing adulations. Yes, you are very perceptive, there is something brewing on the horizon, but not a storm…unless you think of it as a metaphorical storm…something is going to happen that will forever change the way the Phantom sees himself….yet another cat out of the bag I'm afraid…

You are correct, Christine does have much anguish, and I think you've found in this most recent chapter, that Erik did too. They both want the same thing from each other, but neither have the experience of previous relationships, and both have carried much hurt with them from their pasts, complicating things even further. Perhaps I over use the term "great love" but I do not know how else to describe it…for one can only imagine having a love as strong and intense as this couple. I think, as you suggest, Erik would be more easily led to forgiveness knowing that Christine chose to respect him over her curiosity, though she didn't have the opportunity to actually make that final choice as she couldn't have gotten the drawer open. I am afraid she might have been as curious as Pandora and opened the drawer without realizing what she would be unleashing…so it's a good thing the lock did not reveal its secrets!

And alas, thank you for the compliment. It seems silly to say it in this way, but I get so very excited when I am finished with each chapter, and put it out there for critique! I appreciate that you are enjoying reading it….and this chapter is yet another page in our journey!

**Faeriecatcher1**: Your friend is going out as Erik? I am a bit worried about going out myself tonight because if I see anyone dressed up as the Phantom, I am likely to get arrested! LOL! Not really, but it does make you wonder…if the Phantom was to go out to a costume ball…who would he go as? Hmmmmm….

You are correct, every couple has their quarrels, even the nearly perfect ones! They love each other, that is what keeps them together, no matter what rain may fall in their lives.

Thank you for your comment on the paragraph describing the tea. I am a tea lover, in all its various sorts…so I just imagined what Erik might be thinking as he watched it brewing. He is so reflective, such a deep thinker…I think that is perhaps why has so much respect for Walden…he too was a great observer, and would likely have liked what Erik thought of the tea leaves…darn…I've gone and made it more complicated haven't I. LOL! Alas, I think that is simply my nature….

Have a good night tonight! Hope you enjoyed our little treat!

**Phantomfan13**: Yes, truly, Erik could not stay mad at Christine, especially after he read her love letter…sighs dreamily. As for Meg and Christine…it would be nice if the two friends could see each other again…and I'm sure Meg would be thrilled to learn of Christine's news. Ahhhh, but who knows if this shall ever come to pass.

Scary movies are fun, but sometimes they are a little over the edge and frighten us to the point of becoming irrational! It sounds like that's what happened to your poor friend Sarah! You know, I've seen only one of the movies in the series 'Scary Movie'…not really sure what I think of them… I have not seen 'Sleepy Hollow' though I really should because I rather imagine it would give more life to the chapter, way back when, when Nadir was being chased through the woods by the wolves…hmmmm.

Sounds like a good choice of costumes…something warm is always good when you are outside this time of year. Have a good night…and don't eat too much candy!


	148. Rest?

Chapter 148 Rest? 

Nadir was soon settled in the sleigh. He repositioned his personal affects as he watched the men from the carriage house bring the pine box from the other end. They'd affixed it to a small sled to maneuver it over the drifts. Soon the box was mounted on the sleigh in front of him. He and Sara would ride the distance to Paris together.

It wouldn't be an entirely pleasant trip, the sleigh having no covering, but there was little alternative. Nadir was thankful that there was at least a solid covering on the snow, and that the sleigh had made it quite easily on the adventure the trio had been on earlier. It gave him a fair amount of confidence that they'd have little trouble reaching Paris, though they'd made several additions to the sleigh in terms of warmth and protection just in case they'd find themselves stranded.

As the sleigh lurched forward, Nadir looked back at the house. Madame Giry, Meg, and Raoul stood watching out of the large pane in the door. He waived to them. Yes, this was anything but a pleasant trip, but it was one Nadir made quite willingly. He'd both duty to the woman, and obligation to Erik to encourage him on. Nadir watched the house until he could no longer see the distinct features of their faces.

He turned facing into the wind that rushed passed him as the sleigh moved on forward toward the City On the morrow he'd have Sara in some sort of arrangement. Tonight she would find her temporary rest on LeMortem Street, though he doubted the drivers would fancy their assignment. They likely knew, though he'd not said, where their first stop would be. He'd see just how intuitive Raoul's staff was when they arrived in the city proper.

XXXXXXX

Raoul turned to Meg and Madame Giry. He smiled, glancing back and forth between them. "Meg, we ought share with Mother don't you think?" Meg nodded. "Then come, let us go to the room." Raoul smiled taking the two women's hands and making his way quickly to the room where they'd shared so much, not days before. It had been his sanctuary, and now he shared it with two women whose importance in his life was steadily increasing. It gave him such pleasure to lead them to that room, closing the door behind them. There had been something so exciting about sharing this part of his private life with others who cared about him. It was as though he'd been given permission to have feelings other than those of serious repose, and it warmed the cockles of his heart.

Raoul moved swiftly to the small lamp that lay at the back of the small room, lighting it. Meg's face was already lit, it was in no need of additional illumination. She'd removed her coat and now slid her hands from her muff. Madame Giry's eyes had already hungrily scanned Meg's left hand, her right being obscured by shadow, Madame Giry had paid it no mind.

Her face was somewhat contorted. Why this act, why this secrecy if a proposal had not been made?

Raoul smiled at her He needed to explain. "Madame Giry," he said taking her hand, and Meg's into his, "do let us tell you of the goings on inside the privacy of the grotto."

She smiled at Raoul and Meg. They would tell her, and she'd no doubt it was of considerable importance, or they would even now be enjoying tea in the parlor.

XXXX

DeChagny had risen, already having made his way to Nadir's chambers, Raoul's, and the locked door of Meg's. He'd found the rooms quite deserted, and the house nearly silent as he descended to the lower floor. He'd made his way to the parlor, the library, and was on his way to the library when he heard voices. He shook his head, it had to be his imagination He'd found them once before in that tiny closet of a room, and he'd no want to surprise them. He stood by the door, and though he could hear voices, he'd no idea of what they spoke. He'd heard Raoul pause, and some quiet laughter but nothing more.

He decided to make his way to the kitchen for a hot cup of tea. Just what he'd need now to clear his head. Much of the previous night, and some of the events of early that very day were a bit of a blur, and nothing helped to alleviate it as a bit of fresh air and a bit of tea. He moved passed the door on to the kitchen.

He could have made his way around the room blindfolded. As he poured the hot water into his cup, he thought, perhaps it was time. Time to return home. He could easily conduct his business two days a week at the Opera House. He could tend to the things he'd left slip aside during the focused repairs. Raoul's house was quite full, and he could see no relief in sight for the coming future. He needed to give his son room, and time. Something he'd been given the luxury of by his own father though he'd come to grieve over it. Raoul was right, he thought as he submersed the tea ball into his cup. How could he begrudge Raoul that which he'd been given?

The simple truth was that Raoul had never known, no one save Claire, had known the bitter heartache that the freedom had ultimately exacted. Perhaps that is why he'd fought with such perserverence to keep Raoul on the straight and narrow. What the world perceived to be callous and devoid of compassion, was nearly the opposite…though he'd hardly had the luxury of being able to explain as much.

As the tea steeped he found himself sitting at the small table most often used by the maids. It was comfortable, and quite out of view. As properly discreet as a staff's quarters should be DeChagny thought.

He sipped the hot brew. He would wait until they emerged from the room. Whatever it was that they felt need for privacy, he may or may not be privy to. It mattered little at this point. Raoul was a full grown man, and he could conduct himself within the walls of his own home in any manner he liked, and he'd reminded his father of as much. Silently DeChagny sipped his cup. Yes, he would wait.

XXXXXX

Nicole made her way to the kitchens. She could hear the hustle and bustle before she even reached the room. She'd slipped into the room's edge, putting on her apron before she moved to her usually appointed duties.

The room fell nearly silent. The head cook came forward. "Nicole, you my dear are in no condition to be here. You should be resting, tending to your mother, your own needs. We can take care of things here until you are ready my dear."

Nicole smiled, looking up at the woman she'd known for five years. It had been the most compassionate the woman had ever been with her and it made her uneasy. Nicole's eyes were brimming though she'd refused to give in to her crying. Tears would not help her now. "Thank you, that is most kind of you. Though, if you do not mind, I'd prefer to work. Sitting in silence has proven to be no friend of mine. I think just now the comfort of the routine of work would suit my sorrows much better."

The woman put her hand on Nicole's shoulder. She looked her most seriously in the eye, "are you certain child, because we can certainly manage."

Nicole nodded, picking up the knife with one hand, and a potato with the other. "Yes mum, quite."

The woman smiled at her. Nicole's strength shone brightly once again. "Very well then." The staff began to silently return to their duties. In a few minutes time, there was the normal hustle and bustle of the kitchen as they prepared for their numerous guests. This is precisely what Nicole needed now. Something normal, mundane, routine, in a world that had been anything but that this past twenty-four hours.

XXXXX

The sleigh ride to the Opera House had taken just under an hour, and they'd had to walk a part of the distance on foot. The doctor had knocked on the door, and though no one came, he opened the door and let himself inside.

It was the first he'd seen of the walls that had been refashioned and repaired. There were only a few gas lamps illuminating the great foyer, but it was even more elegant than he'd recalled. He called out several times as he made his way around then mezzanine before he ventured up the grand staircase to the second level. He had a fair degree of certainty that this is where the offices were housed. Once reaching the upper level he could at least hear voices, if however faint. "Hello….hello….is there…." He heard a sound on the lower floor. The outer door opening a chilling wind swirling into the foyer, though no one entered. He descended, thinking he must have carelessly left the door unlatched. He pushed it closed securely. He'd venture about, certain someone had to be there, and the offices held the most promise.

XXXXX

Nadir was shivering so hard he nearly thought he might break a bone. The gas lights of the City were visible above the drifts of snow, and they beckoned him. The city had never appeared so splendid to him as it did at the present. They had made it, and though chilled through and through, they had made it.

The driver never looked back, never waited for indication. In the failing twilight that was bringing that day to a close, he'd no wish to pause for formalities. He knew that he'd be venturing down that street, and he did not wish to do so alone, even in the light of day.

Nadir's cheek twinged just slightly. He had been willing to accompany him there, though the man had never asked his intentions. Perhaps that fear was so deeply ingrained in Parisians, that it was simply understood that he'd not travel there alone. Nadir shook his head. What fears did these people know? They believed in legends and whispers. Nadir knew first hand of a treachery so vile it was unspeakable. He feared nothing in this City, for he'd seen the worst the world had ever conjured and lived to tell of it, no this little street held no fear for him.

As the sleigh ventured into the heart of the city, finding and making land marks became somewhat of a game. The buildings of greater stature were a guiding post, though the smaller were all but completely buried. They'd made their way down passed the last large mass of a cathedral, turning left knowing that path would take them to the street. As they traveled over the ice-hardened drifts, they grew closer and closer to their destination. It was odd, though the buildings were decidedly shorter and of less size, the drifts grew smaller and smaller, until they finally came to the turn for the street.

It was a shocking sight as they rounded the last corner. The abrupt change in the landscape. There the row of uniform cement buildings lay. The street in front of it had been cleared by the scoops of a hundred shovels working in unison, making way for what surely would be a boom in business in the wake of the storm…and the alley, that lay behind, though scraped at roughly appeared damp, and a red tinge about the snow that did remain, sent a shiver of memories down Nadir's spine. It was the street of death, aptly titled, and duly feared, though not by everyone.

The sleigh came to a stop out in front of the undertakers office. Nadir dismounted going to the heavy door, lifting the knocker but once. The door opened and he disappeared inside. The drivers sat stoic on the sleigh. They would neither accompany him, nor were they entirely certain that if a scream was heard that they wouldn't unlash the sleigh and ride away on the beasts. The men hated everything about being on that street, and were still angry at what had been the shortest straws drawn. They'd not wish it on anyone, they simply had wished it had not befallen them.

Nadir made his way into the unusually humid outer room. It was scantily lit, and the man himself was clothed in garb that showed the nature of his business, covered in every shade of crimson that the palette of human blood could display.

There was no time for the formal nature of the business the man usually conducted, he was busy. Those who delivered the bodies were most often not the family, but a lower element of society that removed such unpleasantness from their presence in a timely fashion, delivering them to LeMortem Street. A street all knew was there, but none mentioned, nor seemed to acknowledge its existence. It served a necessary function and nothing more.

The man did not extend his hand to Nadir. Which pleased him. Erik had chosen him for a number of reasons, not the least of which was acquiring the latest knowledge on his occupation. The shaking of hands was now considered forbidden. It could share more than a pleasant greeting, and in a business where one dealt with death in abundance, there was no need to share any element of the gift of death among the living.

The man showed Nadir to a chair in front of a small unassuming desk. The smell was repugnant, a sickly sweet smell of the incense that was so commonly burned trying to mask the other putrid odors that abounded in such places. Nadir was no stranger to such practices, and the very first nauseating inhalation of it made Nadir want to double over in a wretched fit of vomiting. It was something most wouldn't have known, but once you'd acquired the knowledge, you shan't forget it, try though one might.

"The woman, she's been dead more than a week?" Nadir nodded his head. It was shameful. "I gather she's been prepared." Nadir nodded his head again. The man began to scratch at his chin.

A loud noise from the room behind distracted him. He rose and disappeared behind a small door without excuse. Nadir looked around the room. The single light was the lamp on the desk. The walls were a grey washed wood. Though it was clean and tidy from what he could observe, it was less that a desirable atmosphere. The singular item that adorned the wall was a frame of the diploma the man had received years before. It looked as faded as the walls. Nadir sighed. Though he was not frightened, he'd no desire to spend a minute more in that place than he'd have need to.

He'd sat there for a few minutes before the man returned. A fresh smear of red across the surface of his apron though he'd tried to wipe it clean before he returned. He picked up his writing instrument, resuming the questions.

"And the cause of death?" The man looked Nadir squarely in the eye.

Nadir said, "wounded by a burglar, gun shot."

The man who'd glanced down to write, looked back up. "Was it that Crawlings character?"

Nadir felt the sweat rising under his collar. "Yes, as a matter of fact it was a Crawlings, why do you ask?" Nadir said, now staring at the man.

"You've surely heard sir, he's killed three innkeepers in the City." Nadir cocked his head, "three?"

The man looked up as matter-of-factly as if he were talking about purchasing a horse, or the delivery of a post. "Yes, the third man died just a day ago, he was delivered here not long ago. Nadir shook his head. "This woman, she was prepared by what undertaker, and why sir did she find her way here and not back to the one who prepared her?" The man looked up again.

Nadir said, "she died in a city quite far from here, but her last wishes were to be buried with husband. We've had a bit of trouble with the weather and the like sir."

The man was scribbling on his paper, looking up he said, "I have been quite busy sir, these last weeks, and I do not have sufficient time to prepare bills for services, I shall require payment in full prior to finishing my work sir." The man looked at Nadir.

Nadir had not been prepared for that, not tonight. He knew of the funds he had of Erik's, surely they were not sufficient enough to pay the bill in full right then. He imagined of the places that Erik had told him of hidden funds, he'd have to wait for days before his presence would not seem out of the ordinary in order to retrieve the money. He sighed. "Sir, I do not have the amount you would require, but I can have it in a few days time."

The undertaker was shaking his head. There would be no delay in payment or the box would not be unloaded.

Nadir took out his leather retrieving what sum he had, reserving but a few bills. He decided rather quickly that he would be spending the night at the Opera House. Nadir had to find the cellars that Erik had told him of. He knew not if there would be funds there, or anything that remained of value that he might barter, but he would have to try.

The transaction was simple. He'd given the man half of the sum, and he'd agreed to accept Sara. There would be peace for a night. Nadir tried to convince the driver to bring the sleigh behind the buildings but he refused, he would not travel the street of blood.

Nadir and the undertaker carried the small pine box in through the front door. Though it was of a fine polished white, and carefully crafted it was not heavy and proved to be of no difficulty for the men. Nadir thought to himself, he'd carried far more heavy men, and in less than reasonable containers.

"I shall bring you the remainder sir within the day. The man nodded as he closed the door behind Nadir. Perhaps it was because the work had already been done, and he'd nothing more to do than house the box until a proper burial could be arranged. Whatever the case had been, Nadir breathed a sigh of relief as he climbed back into the sleigh. "To the Opera House sir, to the Opera House."

XXXXX

The foal's was more certain of her footing as she trotted about the small barn next to her mother's side. She was a beautiful specimen, coal black from nose to hind-quarter, and the only deviation from its purity was a small pair of white diamonds on the crest of her brow. She was beautiful to behold, with a diverging temperament. If looks could deceive, this surely was the case. She was a bit bold and aggressive when challenged. Her mother was fiercely protective.

The man had brought out several carrots and an apple from the winter storehouse, which the mother took with some reservation. As she made dinner of them as she watched the man with an eye full of scrutiny.

He'd lightly fitted the foal with a loose harness and lead. It served no function other than training to become accustomed to it from the first. It would have been what the master would have done had he been there for the arrival. In his absence the man used his best judgment.

As he walked back to the house from the barn, he took note how he could see the lower limbs of the trees emerging from the drifts. Surely the melt had begun and would continue until this storm, and all that it had brought would be a distant memory as spring came back to claim what was rightfully hers.

XXXXX

Raoul led Madame Giry and Meg from the tiny closet. Madame Giry was at once relieved that a formal engagement was not to be announced, and that Meg and Raoul were in agreement on the plan for the coming weeks It was, in her mind, the prudent course of action. The best assuredness could be found when both time and distance separated both from the situations they'd found themselves in quite by default. She could return to the Opera Populaire, setting affairs in order for whatever eventuality was chosen. She would be grateful for the chance to put things in order in advance if she were staying on at the Opera House, and relieved to have them in order for her successor if she were to go. Time would bring relief and assuredness. It was an assiduous plan, and she thought it suited their circumstances quite well.

Raoul escorted the ladies to the dining room. Though Madeline had neither had opportunity to inform him, nor he to inquire, he felt fairly certain by the settings on the table and the glorious scents coming from the kitchen that the dinner hour was soon to be at hand.

The table had been set for four, and by the scent of peppermint that Raoul caught, he thought his father to be finally awake and ready to dine with them. Raoul smiled as he pulled the chair out first for Meg, and then Madame Giry.

Madeline peered from behind the door as Raoul was seating himself. She was smiling. She'd been searching for them to tell them that dinner was ready, but search though she might, she had not found them. However they had arrived there, she was thankful. They'd a rack of lamb and a cherry glaze awaiting them, and it was of the most perfect pink, and entirely ready to serve.

Madeline made her way back to the table at the corner of the kitchen. She made purposeful sound, and at one point dropped a kettle rather heavily on the stove. DeChagny jerked awake. He'd fallen off to sleep, his head leaned against the wall.

He'd been off in a dream the essence of peppermint had proven to be a catalyst taking him back to an afternoon that July in Chauesser. He and Claire had just left the sweet shop, a small paper bag in hand. She'd opened it offering to him her favorite candy. They were small striped peppermints that melted in ones mouth. He'd rather taken a fancy to all things peppermint thereafter. Perhaps, all those years later, it quite explained his fascination with peppermint tea.

Madeline walked over retrieving his cup, whispering, "dinner ready, wait for you, you go now." DeChagny's eyes were bleary, and he stumbled a bit before his footing was sure. He'd join them, and find out, with any fortune, what had kept them in the closet for such an extended time. As he walked to the room to join them, he heard laughter. Not regular social laughter, but the laughter of happy souls enjoying genuinely, one another's company. It made him smile. Perhaps tonight would be a good time to announce that he would be somewhat less present in Raoul's household. Yes, he decided it was indeed time.

XXXXXXXXX

The physician had searched the second floor. DeChagny had neither come in that day, nor had he been seen at all by the sole man that remained tidying up after the craftsman that had worked there that day. He'd found his way down to the foyer and was ready to make his way out when he heard a noise outside the door. Thinking the wind must be blowing about debris, he went to the door to make certain it was securely latched. He'd nearly decided to venture back to the woman's house on foot, never having made it to Raoul's at all. Perhaps on the morrow he'd be able to do so. As he reached the door it flew open, and with the gust of wind came a man.

"Sir?" Said the doctor, watching as the man unbundled. He knew not if he was to be of assistance to the man, or the man to him.

Nadir pulling the last scarf from his head trying to focus as the driver brought in his small trunk for him. "Doctor?" Nadir spun about on his heels.

"Nadir?" The two men embraced. "What on earth finds you here at this hour and in this weather?" The doctor said as he assisted Nadir in removing his cloak and heavy layers.

"The same could be asked of you sir." Nadir said, smiling and nodding his head in thanks.

The doctor laughed, "yes, quite."

Nadir looked around the foyer. "Quite a grand specimen isn't she?"

The doctor nodded, "agreed." The men were unconsciously walking toward the lower floors of the Opera House were they saw light and heard the only sounds in the entire expanse of the Opera House.

"I've come to find DeChagny, I had hoped to make use of his sleigh to go to Raoul's house, I have a matter most urgent to discuss with Raoul."

Nadir had taken the doctor by the arm and turned about face. "with any fortune at all, we may have opportunity to retrieve him before he leaves the City."

The doctor looked quite perplexed. "Retrieve whom sir?"

Nadir looked at him, at first with furrowed brow, but then quickly realized the doctor would have had no knowledge of his being at Raoul's house just now. "Doctor, I've just come from there, the driver will be returning there now, if we catch him…"

The doctor's pace quickened, Nadir no longer needing to lead him. They opened the door to find the sleigh still outside, and a pair of tracks in the snow leading over to the tavern across the drift from the Opera House. They would have time.

Nadir made fairly quick work of the drift, sending the doctor to retreat inside the Opera House. Nadir found the man in the tavern, having gone in for a bit of something to warm himself before journeying back to Raoul's. It had been fairly uneventful, but it had been cold, and a bit of warmth in the veins would serve him well. He would be ready within the hour, he and Nadir looking at their watches lest there be a misunderstanding about the time.

"You'll come in and find us then sir? In the lower levels where the staff and repairmen now sit for supper?"

The man nodded He'd do anything at all as long as he'd not had to return to that street again. Perhaps his journey to the tavern had only been in part to warm him, and as much to quell the other shivers running up and down his spine that had nothing at all to do with the weather.

Nadir made his way back to the Opera House. "Come, let us have a bit of tea, and sir, have you had dinner?" The doctor shook his head, he'd had nothing substantial in the last day, and a warm supper before he'd head out on such a journey did sound to be a wise thing.

**Author's Notes: **

**Dear Faithfuls**: Yes, this chapter was devoid of Erik and Christine, but I can assure you they are happily resting for the next chapter! They are rather tired from the last one!

**CaptainOblivious: **Ah yes, at least you were able to wear the cape! Ahhh…yes, just a piece of your heart? Well, if you're not sure you want to get it back, it probably isn't yours anymore anyway! (As in Rob has already possessed it!) Sorry my response is so short…just checked the reviews right before I posted today, and there were three added at the last minute….more next time though, I swear!

**PhantomsRogue**: Yes, maybe one day we shall hear each other's voice…who knows! I don't have much time to respond today, just checked the reviews right before I posted today, and there were three added at the last minute. Thank you for understanding about devoting an entire chapter to just E/C…it seems none in our Phamily minded it all that much! LOL! We are all such romantics at heart aren't we? As for Nadir and Madame Giry….we shall see….. By the way, I'd rethink the day of the week for Erik…I think I'd want him to be Friday….that is the longest night of the week for me, and the only day I don't have to get up the next morning…heck, I'm not sure I'd even sleep if he was around! LOL! Have a great night!

**Faeriecatcher1**: Sorry my response is so short…just checked the reviews right before I posted today, and there were three added at the last minute. Sounds like you had a productive Halloween…a bag full of candy indeed! Glad you liked the chapter!

**Batteredchild**: No Halloween? That's probably o.k., since it is really a cavity-inducing holiday! LOL! But have to tell you, you've peeked my interest….what of ancient history were you studying my dear? I am always intrigued! Studying is a good thing!

Evil computers, yes, I've had my share of those. I'd penned several chapters, saving them on a disk, there-in lay my own stupidity, and when I went to reopen the documents, they were unreadable…fully two days work lost forever! I was more than distraught as I'd included so much in them, so many quotes, so much feeling….and though I've recreated some of it in the coming chapters, something is always missed when you have to re-write something. I knew I'd missed a great deal because what had been more than twenty pages was now barely eighteen….arggghhhh. So much to say, I understand your frustration!

Hope that all is well for you…I guess you are heading into summer…no?

**Phantomphorever**: I must apologize for this most recent chapter…it is full of the jumping-back-and-forth that you are less than fond of! Thank you for reaffirming that devoting an entire chapter to the issue that Erik and Christine faced, was the correct decision. It was a difficult issue for them, but as you saw, they resolved it quite well!

Also, thank you for telling me you didn't mind my re-printing the letter that Christine wrote to Erik. I was not trying to use it as a filler, though it felt a bit like cheating to me! I thought it would be rather cruel to make the readers go back and search for the letter, and as you so aptly put it, the reader could now see the letter through Erik's eyes. So thank you for letting me know that it made sense to include it again.

Yes, the winds of the metaphorical storm, they are a-brewing!

Have a great night

**WriterMuseoftheNight**: Thank you…let my fantasies unwind…yikes…that could be very scary in my little mind! I'm happy to hear that I've peeked your interest…and I hope not to disappoint!

The anger of Erik's, yes, there are many similarities with the anger he felt when he was unmasked by Christine the first time. In fact, one could look at as yet another mask she was removing, this one just as important, but invisible. His anger this time was different only in that it was accompanied by guilt…which drove the pain of it even deeper. For the truth of the matter is once you have loved and been loved by someone, anger can no longer come without the pain of guilt for hurting the other person…making it far more painful to experience. So our dear Erik thought that suffering in the depths of the Opera House, devoid of human contact was painful, but he is quickly learning that the seemingly easier life that he thought all of humanity enjoyed, is indeed often more painful than that which a recluse…and outcast…endures. For nature is about balance…what is pleasure….without pain!

Hope your hallowed-eve was a good one!

**Phantomlover05:** Congratulations from your Phamily on making piccolo! That is indeed quite an honor. Hopefully your friend Jessica will be supportive of you! Band is a wonderful group to be in. The musical are usually gifted in other areas as well, just look at our dear Erik! Now I have to admit, I am just a little more than curious as to why you would watch POTO in science class….English class yes, music class yes, even psychology, or social studies…but science? Hmmm….pray do tell.

Yes Erik's temper did wane, and it wasn't long before he begged for her forgiveness…as we knew he would!

Have a great night…and don't forget to practice that piccolo remember to whom much is given, much is expected!

**Nordygirl**: Again, another wonderful rendition…I'd forgotten the complete tune to the song, but I have to admit your words were rather amusing. Have a great night!

**DivePrincess**: Do remember that a friend is a friend only as long as they are behaving like a friend. No doubt James is rebelling against everything that he's come to know these years that he's been at home. Do not allow him to overcome what you feel is right. You have to have a line that you won't cross, not for anyone. That is how you define who you are. Stay true to yourself, but recognize that James is still James underneath, he's just seeing life through a different set of eyes right now. You've called him on what you think, now its up to him to decide what he's going to do. Just be the same friend that you've always been to him. You can only control what you do, not what he does. Believe me, it took me years of hurt to learn that lesson well. Now I just love my friends for who they are, and help them when I can, but I've learned to know when to help and when to love them just as they are. People will disappoint us, no matter what we do…its up to us to decide what we are going to do about it.

Take care of yourself. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!

**LadyWinifred**: Welcome to the Phamily! We hope your stay with our phamily is a long and happy one. Thank you, sincerely for the compliment. I have loved this story for so long, and to be able to be a part of it in a different way has been a dream come true for me. It touches my heart how many people around the world have shared this same need to change the ending of POTO…it is humbling to know that I've been able to be a part of that.

Now, as become our tradition…let me see about that tag name of yours…something from literature perhaps….? Pray do tell.


	149. Shadow Hours

Chapter 149 Shadow Hours 

Erik reached out lifting one of Christine's curls, leaning over he kissed her shoulder. She was lying on her side looking up into his eyes. Erik had propped himself up on one elbow, lying down didn't agree with his cough.

"Yes, there is a story behind the piano, but how did you know of it?" Erik smiled, somehow no longer feeling threatened by her inquisitiveness. He'd found a soul he could trust with everything, though he may spare her some things that were too horrible to repeat, and too painful to remember.

Christine looked up at him, a brief flicker of worry in her eye. Erik leaned down kissing her cheek. "Do not worry Christine." She smiled at him sweetly.

"I was admiring it, while you were gone….trying to imagine in my mind you sitting at it playing so beautifully as you had the night before." Christine blushed. "The maid saw me looking at it admiringly, and that is when she told me that you'd rescued it from tragedy…or something of that nature. It truly is a beautiful piano Erik."

Erik smiled at Christine, lowering his lips once more to the curved edge of her shoulder, placing a delicate kiss there. Christine smiled up at him with such innocent eyes. He'd seen them before, when she would listen to his stories. Then he was still an angel in her mind. Now, she could focus on his eyes, touch his flesh as he spoke, it was all very different now, yet she still had the innocent eyes of a child whenever he told her of a new story…perhaps she always would.

"It was a very long time ago." Erik sighed. Not an irritated sigh, but a relaxed happy sigh. A sigh that one does when they are content, and would rather be no where other than where they are. He continued, "not long after I acquired this house in fact." Erik said raising his eyebrow. A memory that he could recall with such clarity, and it contained no malice, so he could recall it with pleasure. Christine settled into her pillow, running her hand along Erik's chest as he began to speak. He smiled down at her.

"I'd been traveling along this road, as I'd done many times before on my way to pay a visit to Nadir. I traveled then by the dark of night. The reason for which is most obvious. It was then that I noticed a glow, a rather unusual large glow off in the distant forest. I knew well that there were many small villages not far from there, several that had been nearly abandoned for some months as hunger had driven those that lived there off to find a more hospitable environment. The wildlife had been greatly diminished by disease that had swept through the season before."

Erik looked down at Christine who was listening intently. "They'd every intention of returning once they could no doubt, as they'd left a great deal standing. My curiosity grew the closer I ventured to the glow. The village had been on fire for what appeared to be a long while, several houses charred to the ground. The last building to have caught fire was the church. It was a humble one, but lay at the center of their village, a position of importance. There would be no stopping the blaze, one man could not begin to do so alone. I knew they would be greatly saddened when they returned to find their buildings gone. I ventured ever closer until I was certain that their was none there to bare witness to it. I moved into the church, in hopes of removing the small cross and bell that stood in the tower above the steeple. If at least I could spare them this, they could rebuild the structure."

Erik looked down at Christine. He'd not often spoken of deeds he'd done that were altruistic, but in this case, he'd had to make an exception. For what other plausible reason would he have gone into the church? "When I'd entered the church, I found it mostly intact, and made my way swiftly to the bell tower, removing the items and lowering them to the ground by rope." Erik sighed.

"It was when I was coming down to leave that I saw it over in the corner, covered in a thick soot soaked sheet. I knew instinctively what it was. It had been at the center of where the flames first entered and had been lashed by the peels of fire that had swept in and moved on to the curtains. Fire is a curious thing, sometimes leaving things intact and completely consuming others. I'd gone to it and found it to be easily moved…well, it wasn't long and I'd opened the church doors wide, of course feeding the monster that roared inside, and pushed the piano out of the door. I took it, and the cross and bell to the edge of the town, covering it with damp branches of pine. If the fire did reach that far the forest was in danger, and nothing would be spared. In the absence of a wagon, and extra men, it was all I could do for them."

Christine reached up and touched Erik's face. He looked rather like a man who'd found a lost treasure, but knew it was not his own. He shook his head. "I waited there the night, and nothing came, save the rain, extinguishing the languishing fire until it was but a smolder. It seemed God had intervened. I left that small village, and would not come back for several months."

Christine smiled at Erik to encourage him. "How is it then that it found its way here?"

Erik exhaled, lifting yet another curl from Christine's neck, putting it delicately behind her head. He leaned down sliding his fingers through the long tresses of her hair along the curve of her neck until his hand came to rest behind her head. Slowly he pulled it to his lips, placing a kiss on her forehead. He smiled as he leaned away. Just gazing upon her face in the glow of the fire was a pleasure to him.

"It was on my way back to Paris that out of curiosity I'd stopped to see what had become of the village. Someone had returned, as many houses had been knocked to the ground and all that remained were stone bases where the houses had been. The church had been entirely knocked to the ground, and the contents removed. Whoever had done the work had taken the charred pews from the church and thrown them in a heap on top of the piano. It looked as if they'd intended to burn the lot of it, but had for whatever reason abandoned the job, as moss grew over the pews. Thankfully they'd taken the bell and cross. I know not whatever became of the people of that village, or why it had never been reoccupied." Erik paused thoughtfully as if he could see the leveled village in his mind.

"I returned with a wagon and retrieved the piano, and several of the pews. I brought them to Courtland Manor where they were refinished with great care. The pews no doubt you found in the study there. Oh, somewhat shortened of course as they'd had to remove the parts too damaged to save, but they are pews of the same church I can assure you." Erik smiled down at Christine.

"So what is it that brought the piano here and not to Courtland Manor?"

Erik smiled as he ran his finger along her jaw. "I've no need for two pianos in one household my dear, and the one at Courtland Manor too has a story, though not as adventurous as this one!" 

Christine smiled. "It must have taken a great deal to restore such a beautiful piece."

Erik nodded, "yes, yes, I'm certain it did." He leaned down kissing Christine's shoulder once again. "When something is damaged it does not mean it is beyond rescue." Erik's eyes glistened. Christine did not have to ask, she knew what was meant by his words.

Lifting her head slightly, she reached for Erik's lips. He slid his hands beneath her as he took her up into his arms. He shan't ever tire of sharing his love with this woman. One never knew how many days one would be given on the face of this earth, so one must love as if it was their last day, and pray and believe that there would be many more.

The fire in the hearth warmed the room. Erik and Christine lay together for a long while. The dinner hour had come and gone now, but neither cared…it would wait, love could not.

XXXXXXXX

The mercantile was swarming. The humidor had been nearly emptied; the smoking room was brimming and overflowing with gentlemen. The shelves had been well stocked, but now even the storeroom supplies were dwindling. Comfort items such as liquors and candies had been all but entirely depleted. Other supplies such as candles, and fabrics had also been in great demand. The tables in the tiny sitting area were full, and pots of tea could barely be brewed fast enough to keep up with the demand. The bakery case had been emptied long ago, and the merchant's wife and daughter had been baking cookies in their own kitchen to provide that which was wanted.

The merchant sat down on the stool behind the counter, a temporary lull provided a tiny break so that he might be off his feet, if but for only a moment. He didn't know if he was more fatigued from the labors of the day, or of the chatter about this new mystery man. Of course the conversations had started with the most important topic, the rescue and subsequent death of the "town pest" as he'd heard so many bitterly say. Gentleman, noble, hero…all adjectives used to describe him.

What tired him most were the speculations that followed. As conversations wore on, they attempted to guess why he'd come to town, what he was running from, running to, and what right he'd had to chastise the people at the inn. They spoke scandalously of his much younger wife, and why he valued his privacy so. They wondered of his wealth, his friends, and nearly every other aspect of one's life that would normally be private.

That was the unflattering side of a small city, everyone seemed to feel that the lives, private and otherwise, of all the citizens should be available for their scrutiny, even though their own lives were often less than exemplary.

The shopkeeper finally departed behind the curtain to his back office. He needed a reprieve. Gossip…it was like breathing tongues of fire. It was an unfeeling beast. Uncaring as to who or what it harmed along its path to be spread.

It was a normal course of events that after such a storm, the mercantile would keep its doors open until the last of the men and women made their way out of their own volition. This night would be no different the shopkeeper supposed. He and his family would have a rather short respite after the guests left. They'd have to tidy up in the wake of such an influx. The morrow would bring business as usual, or as usual as it could be, present circumstances considered.

The innkeeper shivered as the door opened once more. Peering out from behind the thick black curtain that hung by brass rings on a pole high in the arch of the doorway that separated his office from the insanity that lay just beyond it. He sighed heavily. It was Sebastian and Pyotr. He'd rather hoped cynically, they'd perished in the storm. Though he knew in an instant that his thoughts were malevolent, he felt little remorse over them. There was something about those men he simply did not trust, and he'd become a fairly good judge of character over the years.

He watched with a wary eye as the men walked with purposeful directness towards him. It was obvious that they were not interested in the smoking room today, nor were they there for provisions. They'd have some sort of business on their mind. He sighed once more as they bobbed and weaved through the swarms of bodies that occupied the mercantile, making their way over to the counter in front of the room where he now hid.

"Good Evening gentlemen, what is it that I might do for you?" the shopkeeper said, appearing from behind the curtain as if on cue. Though they were anything but gentlemen in his mind, he'd not lower himself to the standards of their behavior. He'd treat them with respect, though they didn't deserve it.

Sebastian pulled a bundle of letters from beneath his cloak. "We've need to send several posts. Pray do tell of me of the schedule for the next courier that is due?"

The shopkeeper looked at the men in near disbelief. "A post?" He nearly laughed, they were certainly as ignorant and simpleton as they appeared. "There'll be no post sir, not likely for days. Nor messengers, nor anything of the sort. There will be no travel unless one has a sleigh, and even that is no guarantee as the snow begins to melt."

The men looked at each other, whispering between them. "Have you a sleigh, one for purchase good sir?"

The shopkeeper smiled at them, even if he had one to sell, he doubted that he'd sell it to the likes of them…even if it were the last thing between he and starvation. "No sleighs here sir. Perhaps you might inquire at an Inn, oft times they have one for use by their guests."

"That is an excellent suggestion." Pyotr exclaimed, they would look into it. The men turned and wandered past the smoking room. It was entirely too full for their taste. Then they were on their way out the door They'd no need to stay there. It provided nothing for them, and they never found want to become too familiar with anyone in that city…it made their business dealings much easier that way.

The shopkeeper sighed again, rubbing at the back of his neck. A fatigue had begun to set in. He wished at this moment he did have a sleigh. He'd not mind finding his way to the gentleman's house to thank him personally for his unselfishness. It had been a grand act of kindness, even if he'd not want to be praised for it. Further more, to warn him. Warn him about the pettiness of a city so charmed by itself that it had need for fresh gossip. The shopkeeper neither had want to know why the man had come, nor need to know. A man's business was his own. It was a splendid refreshment that a man of character had arrived. For the town needed a savior, and Lady C needed an allie.

XXXXX

Nicole had been working for a good while before the doctor found her. He was shaking his head. "You should be resting Nicole, this is neither the time to be brave, nor put on a stiff lip." He took the potato and knife from her hand leading her to the sink to wash her hands. He'd already found and removed her mother from the laundry.

Nicole dried her hands and was led by the doctor to the room by the grand hearth. He sat her down, and found a place across from the both of them. Nicole sat next to her mother, leaning over she put her head lightly on her mother's shoulder.

"Dear ladies, let me first extend to you my condolences. I had hoped that I might bring some healing to your grandmother, but fate, it seems, had other plans. Though the woman was beyond the hands of men, it brings me some comfort to know that both of you were able to join her at the last, I am entirely certain it made the passage much easier for her. I want to assure you, upon examination, your grandmother would not have survived long, nor if she had, would she have had use of her legs. The large shard of glass, no doubt from a broken window, severed too much of her."

Nicole squirmed a bit. It was no doubt that this physician had little experience with uneducated masses. She sincerely hoped that he'd not go into more graphic detail.

"I want to assure you that nothing that I could have done, you could have done, Monsieur Courtland could have done, that would have produced a different outcome." He looked down rubbing his hands together. "Your mother, grandmother," he said looking between her mother and Nicole, "has made her way to the undertaker."

The doctor flinched, he knew, from what the innkeeper had told him, these were women of pride, and would likely not take well what he would next say. "The man, Monsieur Courtland insisted on taking care of the arrangements."

Nicole's mother furrowed her brow, "of what things do you speak?"

The doctor reached out touching her shoulder. "Taking care of the arrangements. He's insisted, and given note to his intentions to be delivered with her."

Nicole's lip began to tremble. She had wondered, worried, how she and her mother would ever pay for a proper burial for her grandmother. They'd barely been making their expenses each month, very little had ever been saved.

Nicole's mother looked at her daughter, "we musn't…we cannot allow…"

Nicole reached out covering her mother's hand. "Mother, I know…I understand…but how else are we to manage? It is most generous…and perhaps he will allow us to repay him…"

Her mother was shaking her head, "no, we should be beholden to no one…owe no one…"

The doctor smiled slightly, the innkeeper had been right in his estimates. "The Monsieur was quite insistent I'm afraid, whatever arrangements are to be made among you, let it be your business."

Nicole patted her mother's hand reassuringly. If she knew the man at all, there was something she was fairly certain of, and that it would be that he would neither hold this over them, nor even mention it. They would have time…time to figure out how best to repay him.

"Ladies, if you would now permit me, I'd like to examine the both of you." They sat up a bit straighter. Nicole's mother rose following him to a room in the back, leaving Nicole to sit by the fire.

She stared into it, the dancing flames provided comfort both to her body and her mind as she watched as the rising heat pushed the flames too and fro. Life was a bit like that she thought to herself. You can be strong, and as hearty as a blazing flame, and the essence of life would push you about, no matter how well you'd planned.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. It was the innkeeper. He came to sit next to her on the bench. "Nicole, there is little I can say that would improve your situation. Simply know that you are welcome to stay as long as you like. You shan't worry for work my dear, nor of your pay. Your sum will be the same this week as it was the last." He looked down at the ground. "There have been so many times you've lent a hand without request for compensation my dear, this is the very least I could offer you in return." He smiled at her as she looked up with her heavy eyes. Then he rose and left her yet again alone. She was lost in her thoughts…memories racing before her…she missed her….missed her already.

XXXXX

Nadir and the doctor found themselves at a table in the lower levels of the Opera House. The man that received them had been more than accommodating after reading the letter from the Vicomte. Soon a loaf of bread and two dishes of stew were in front of them, along with a pitcher of ale. Not quite what either of them were accustomed to, but neither complained. It was simple sustenance.

"The man died pitifully, though he did wake at the last, however briefly."

Nadir listened as the doctor concluded his lengthy description of the evening past, and how difficult it had been for his now-grieving widow.

The doctor looked around, shuffling his chair closer to the table, and Nadir. He began in a nervous and strained whisper, "Nadir, it is what the man said last that causes me to venture to Raoul's this night."

Nadir put his spoon down into his stew, leaning closer. "He said that Raoul was next!"

Nadir nearly chocked on his mouth full of ale. He wiped at his face with his napkin, his eyes growing wide.

"Has anyone an idea of where that Crawlings character is?" Nadir felt like the several miles from Paris that he had been at Raoul's was an entire world away.

The doctor replied, "he's not been seen or heard from, and no further treachery on his account has fallen in the City since the murders of the innkeepers, so it is very likely he's fled the City." The doctor looked weary, no doubt from his lack of sleep and worry. "The snow has likely slowed him, wherever he might be, no doubt it has bought us time. If you have no knowledge of his presence at Raoul's, then he is likely far from the City, but we cannot be too careful. I must arrive at Raoul's tonight!"

The doctor was quite adamant. He'd not want to raise concerns, nor draw attention to the situations. Raoul's actions in the distant city where he'd defended Meg were not common knowledge. Crawlings seeking vengeance on Raoul without motive would make no sense, and would certainly raise question among society as to the cause of it. No, he'd deliver this news on his own, no second party to spread rumor. "Nadir, you understand the importance of this discretion do you not?"

Nadir nodded. Oh how he wished he'd not had to stay in Paris and tend to the financial affairs for Sara's final disposition. He'd not want the doctor to travel alone, nor would he want Madame Giry nor Meg to be in harms way if Crawlings was indeed in search of Raoul. For these days, wherever Raoul went, Meg seemed to follow.

Nadir was conflicted. What would happen if he did not pay the man, would he put Sara out into the street? Nadir shook his head, surely he would not. Then he thought, perhaps he could excuse himself from dinner and venture down to the caverns to find something of value…no…it could take hours. He was perplexed.

The doctor looked at him "Nadir? What is it that vexes you?"

Nadir shook his head slightly, "I'm torn. I have obligations which I should tend to here, but I feel it compulsory to accompany you, lest you encounter this man, and truly, Meg's uncle would be most distressed to learn she was in peril and I'd not tended to her."

The doctor nodded. "I see your dilemma." He was a bit relieved to find Nadir may accompany him on his travels to Raoul's. The doctor had hunted hare, and fox, but had never pointed a gun at a man, nor did he know if he could even if it were required to save his own life.

Nadir had not finished his dinner but was already rising from the table. "Good sir, it is most prudent that I accompany you. The affairs of which I speak, can be tended to on the morrow, for surely DeChagny will want to venture into Paris, I can see to them then." The doctor was rising. "No, do finish your supper, I've but one errand to see to before we depart. I shall be back by the top of the hour," Nadir said as he peered at his pocket watch. The doctor did the same. "The driver will come to retrieve us, do be ready, I will join you by the stairs in the foyer." Nadir nodded and departed.

The doctor didn't know quite what to make of this man. He was a foreigner, but had quickly taken up Raoul's concerns as his own. No doubt his loyalties to Meg and Madame Giry extended to those that surrounded them, thus ensuring their happiness. How very fortunate they were to have someone like him to look after them. The doctor sighed, more than a bit relieved. The journey would not be a pleasant one.

Nadir made his way to the back of the Opera House. He was trying to remember what Meg had told him of the location of the dressing room with the mirror. The halls were fairly dark, single lamps here and there, but very few. He opened door after door. Some rooms were finished, a hint of fresh paint in the air, but he'd not found one with a mirror. It was the very last door that he opened, that revealed a room finely appointed, and at the rear wall, a very large, ornate mirror.

Nadir closed the door behind him. He made his way to the mirror, reaching his hand around ever side. He slid his fingers all the way around the mirror but found nothing. He'd bloodied several knuckles before he sat down on the chair. He was exasperated. The mirror had to open somehow! Perhaps the lever was on the other side of the mirror. Meg had said that the mirror was slightly ajar when she'd come to it. Nadir knew there had to be another way to the lower levels though he knew not where…if only Meg were there. He could hardly ask anyone else, as they would wonder of his intentions. Meg knew the Opera House like the back of her own hand.

Nadir scratched at his chin. Perhaps he could send an note to the undertaker, explaining a most urgent situation had arisen, and that he would be there the day after next to settle his account. Nadir did worry though, the man had said that but one more day, prepared or not, the woman would not be allowed to be buried in the City. He closed his eyes. Was it of more honor to protect those that were still living in lieu of paying respect to those now passed? He sighed, putting his elbows on his knees, cradling his head in his hands.

"Forgive me Sara, I'd every intentions of joining you with your husband." Nadir stood, looking at his pocket watch, it was five minutes until the top of the hour. The doctor would be waiting.

He left the room, never having noticed the shadow that had crossed the window just outside. His presence had not been detected, nor had the shadow's. On that account they were dead even, though they'd be in a race for their lives before the sun rose.

**Author's Notes:**

**PhantomsRogue**: Before I begin with anything else, let me just say stick to your guns about NOT watching 'American Psycho'. While you'll see plenty of Bale, maybe more than you ever wanted to….the movie is horrific. Maybe I'm just not that much into the horror genre…and I'd be the first to admit that I'm not, I was intrigued by the psychological aspect of such a dark character. The movie does not give much analysis of the depth of his psyche, which is why I watched it. There is too much graphic violence, and it is terribly bad for women…suffice it to say, the movie was more than disturbing, and if your boyfriend wants you to watch it (and he's already see it) I think I'd ask him why.

Now, on to the story. Yes, our dear Sara finally made it to the undertakers, though I'd not have wanted to be Nadir sitting in that creepy little room…I just could imagine the warm, sick smell, and the strange sounds…too creepy for me. Anyway….things are being set, as you so carefully observed, for the next leg of this journey…it too shall have its twists! (Who would have thought otherwise?) LOL!

'Corpse Bride', I am almost ashamed to say that I'm not much of a Tim Burton fan, Yikes dodges flying tomatoes! I know I should see it for the music though. Now, if this doesn't sound strange enough…I am not all that fond of animated things other than those that are pure whimsy, like 'Cinderella', etc. I rather fancy seeing actual actors, and I don't mind digitizing some aspects of a movie. O.K. enough of true confessions. Perhaps I shall see it just for the music!

Le bon jour mon âme-soeur, ma soeur !

**Batteredchild**: Yes summer is not my favorite either. I don't like being hot…in fact I fantasize about Erik's lake under the Opera House all summer just thinking how delightfully it cool it must have been down there! LOL! I too am fair skinned, so burning is a real issue for me.

Ah yes, Roman and Egyptian history…how very lovely indeed. Though I must say I do favor Roman…having taken Latin, I have a special love for it! My favorite period was the early 300's when Constantine the Great became Emperor… Oh…I probably shouldn't get started…I could talk for hours about Constantinople….

Sorry about the absence of Erik and Christine…I think I had a few sad faces looking at their computer screens last night rather disappointed. I think Erik and Christine must have been sleeping or something. A young couple does need their privacy from time to time! LOL!

Yes, these pesky computers. They are a blessing and a curse…again the whole balance of nature thing…what is wrong without right, blessings without curses.

Have a wonderful evening…and if I could…I'd send you a big frozen tropical snow cone right now…keeping cool and comfy needs to be a priority after all!

**PhantomLover05**: You are most welcome. It is quite an honor and I think Erik would be proud that our Phamily now has a first-chair piccolo flautist! I'm sure he'd definitely approve! LOL!

I am entirely jealous…I had plenty of science teachers (I was a bio-chem major at one point in my life) and not one of them did anything nearly as fun. Oh, the best one was we got to make peanut brittle in our chemistry class one Christmas, but that was about it! I think your science teacher sounds like a great deal of fun…and a cape and mask…well, how could anyone ask for anything more!

**Nordygirl**: Again another wonderful rendition…I have to say I've had more music from ummm musicals, running through my head these last days…now why ever could that be? LOL! You do brighten my day my dear…humor is food for the soul!

**Diveprincess**: Most certainly my dear…that is what Phamily is for! I hope all goes well for you…friends are far too great a possession to lose.

Hope this chapter proved to be a bit of a distraction for you…you know how I love distractions! Have a great night!


	150. Promises

Chapter 150 Promises 

Erik and Christine had fallen asleep. The room had been a warm safe haven for the pair, and the day had slipped through their fingers, though each moment along the way had been savored.

Erik was the first to wake, blinking as he stared up at the ceiling. He stared at it for a long while. He could remember the heat of the summer he'd painted that ceiling. He'd thought about Christine with every brush stroke. There was something so whimsical about painted ceilings he thought. Perhaps he relished them so, since his home beneath the Opera House had none. A rocky, grey, unforgiving stone had been his roof for a number of years.

He stared at the ballerinas replicas of Degas, the ones that Christine had whispered to him of when she was a little girl. "If only I could be as beautiful as even one of those ballerinas angel…to be as graceful…." He smiled, as he remembered her small innocent voice. She hadn't known she would be even more beautiful than any of them.

Erik rolled over to his side. Christine was sound asleep next to him. Her exposed shoulder was all too tempting. He put his hand on it slowly massaging it. Christine inhaled, slowly exhaling, she was smiling. He ran his hand along her chin. She didn't stir. He'd not the heart to wake her.

Erik rose, slipping on his robe, making his way quietly over to the hearth. He put on a few small logs, positioning them to receive another when it was time. He turned, looking at Christine. She'd slid herself to the center of the bed, and was cradling a pillow between her arms. He smiled. She was entirely comfortable. He went to the tray with the teapot and strudel. He'd take it to the kitchen and retrieve several bowls of whatever it was that had filled the house with such wonderful fragrance.

He was a bit more deliberate as he descended the stairs, not wanting to surprise anyone, nor alert them to how very quiet he could be. The very first lesson in the art of deception was being as predictable as one could, so as to be above question. Consistency was key. If one always plodded with a heavier foot, then one would not be so easily accused of sneaking about.

He shuffled his feet a bit as he came toward the kitchen. He arrived there to find Misty and the elder maid busily moving about the kitchen. They'd already seen to their own suppers and were tidying up.

"Monsieur," Misty said, curtseying as he walked into the kitchen. He nodded smiling at her.

"And to whom do I owe my thanks for this delicate pastry?" Erik said as he laid the plate containing the remaining pieces of it on the counter.

Misty smiled, and looked at the older woman, who nodded. "Why Monsieur, did she not tell you?"

Erik looked at her his head cocked to one side, looking between the women as if they knew a secret he did not. "And what is this that you speak of?"

Misty smiled, wiping her hands on her apron, taking a shallow bowl to cover the remaining pastry. "Your wife sir, did she not tell you? She made this for you…to welcome you home Monsieur."

Erik looked down at it, suddenly it had become twice as sweet…no wonder he'd enjoyed it so! As Misty covered it he looked at it as though she was covering his first born child. It was the first gift that Christine had made for him…and he'd enjoyed it thoroughly. He smiled at Misty, "perhaps just one more bite."

She smiled at him, setting the bowl down on the counter. She retrieved a plate and fork, setting them on the cupboard next to the dish. She moved away from it as Erik used the knife to sliver off just one more piece.

The elder maid left the room, she was overcome by the tenderness of it. She'd never seen a man, any man, as appreciative of the simple things in life as this man. He was no doubt a man of means, usually they were the least likely to appreciate any triviality.

Misty walked to the small pot on the stove. It was filled with the stiff coffee she so liked to have with her sweets. They'd had apple pie for dessert themselves, so she'd prepared a pot. She walked back to Erik setting the cup on the cupboard next to his plate.

He stood staring down at it. "Monsieur, if you do not mind my saying," Erik looked at her and nodded, "she took great pride in making this for you, she said it was her first." Nicole smiled sweetly at him and departed.

Erik stood, looking down at the plate. Christine's first. She'd given him so many of her firsts…. Her first songs of her growing voice, her first obedience to instruction, her first heart, her first passions, her first child, and now, how ever simple the pleasure, this as well. She was his, and his alone. He slid his fork into the pastry, savoring it with even more pleasure than he had before. Her hands had shaped it, prepared it. It was…he decided…the best he'd ever had.

Several minutes later Misty reappeared in the kitchen. Erik had covered the remainder of the pastry, and was standing looking out the window into the darkening sky. Misty moved toward the cupboard retrieving a tray, several bowls and plates. She'd prepare a tray for him. She rather knew, though he'd not said, that they would be dining in their room, unless nightclothes became the fashion at the dinner table, but she guessed not.

Erik was silent as he stared out at the snow that was decidedly lowering. No doubt the melt had begun beneath the surface. The ground was far too warm to tolerate the cover for long. Just the night previous about this same hour, he'd been out in the snow with the older woman in his arms. She was still alive twenty-four hours ago. He shook his head. The woman had meant the world to her family and now she was gone.

"Monsieur?" He turned, Misty stood, tray readied. "I shall follow you Monsieur." Erik smiled coming toward her, reaching out to take the tray. "Monsieur," Misty said as she held fast to it, "please allow me, I've need to do my duty for all that you provide for us." Erik could not argue with her, he nodded, he would acquiesce.

XXXXX

Christine had been tossing and turning. She was so warm, so warm. She wrung the sheets in her hand, something was wrong, something was terribly wrong. She fought to wake herself but she could not. Her head was filled with a searing pain, it ached so. She had to wake up, she had to…. Though her eyes were closed, she perceived a flashing white light. Her body began to shake, it was strong….she couldn't fight it.

Her mind was whirling. Her focus was flashing in and out. First bright white, like the high afternoon sun on the brilliance of a new snow. Then, the darkest of night, a night with no moon, nay, blacker yet.

Then her body grew cold, and the darkness seemed to surround her. She began to shiver. It felt as though she was descending, deeper and deeper into ground. She could hear a voice…it was her own….calling out to her…Christine…… She shook her head rolling around in the bed, entangling herself in the sheets. The longer she felt herself dropping, the greater the dread that filled her.

Her eyes began to focus, it was stone, carved and laid stone…it looked familiar. It was the Opera House. She could hear voices, other voices, and a scream. Her heart began to race…she was certain she recognized that shrill shriek…it was Meg!

Christine fought to wake, but the dream would not release her. She flew faster and faster still until she came to the waterways that had led to Erik's lair. The walls were covered in moss and mold, and she was met by a sickly smell of stagnant water. She seemed to glide over the surface, drawn to the very epicenter of the terrors she could hear but not see. She heard it again, Meg shrieking "No….NO!"

She flew around the corner to see what could only have been her greatest fear…Nadir laying in Meg's arms, limp and lifeless. Meg rocking back and forth taking turns looking down at the bloodied and broken Nadir, and the dark figure that stood before her, taunting her. She heard a voice come from the dark figure, "that was for my father, and you…you shall be the sacrifice for my brother," she heard him laugh evilly, "it seems only fitting, do you not think?" Meg was covering her face with one hand as she cowered over Nadir. The screaming and pleading began yet again.

Christine could hear it as plain as if it were in the very room with her. She writhed around in the bed, until she finally jerked awake. She was covered in sweat, terror filled her eyes as Erik came bursting in through the door.

Christine's eyes were wild and wide. Erik glanced first at her then his eyes darted to every corner of the room, she was alone. He rushed to her taking her into his arms, rocking her back and forth. "Shhhh…it is alright Christine…I am here with you."

Christine could not cry though she felt as terrified as she had ever been. "I could…I could…"

Erik put her cheek against his chest as he pulled her up into his arms. "Was it a dream Christine?" He said to her as Misty came into the room quickly depositing the tray and immediately retreating, closing the door behind her.

"I could hear screaming Erik, as real as if it were right here!"

Erik ran his hand along her back trying to soothe her, the excitement would come to no good for her. "It was you my dear, you were screaming. Shhh….my love."

Christine swallowed. She had to tell him, though she knew what it would mean, and that terrified her equally. She could not be parted from him again, she could not bare it!

Erik waited until he was certain he'd heard Misty's footsteps move down the stairs. He lifted Christine's chin. "Tell me of it Christine."

Her lips trembled, and the tears that had escaped her now flowed. Erik put her head against his chest once more. "Christine, remember, no more secrets my love, no more secrets." She clung to his middle. It seemed that what she should do, and what she wanted to do were always at war. She leaned away slightly, looking up at Erik she reached out and touched his cheek. He looked at her with such vulnerability in his eyes. "Do not worry Christine, I am here for you."

She closed her eyes. Lowering her head to his chest once more. "Very well, but you must promise me first, that you will not part us, not for any reason Erik, I cannot bare it, I would sooner die than be parted from you again."

Erik winced, she was so insistent, it surely meant the circumstances would require him, his presence. "Christine, I shan't be able to take that vow unless I know…."

She shook her head. She'd never played a game of bluff, but she must now, for surely she'd need to tell him either way. Christine looked up at him, "promise me…"

Erik looked away, closing his eyes, gritting his teeth. "Christine.."

"PROMISE ME, promise me you'll not separate us again, if you love me you shall promise me now!"

Erik pulled her into his arms, holding her closely. "I shan't put you or our children in harms way Christine."

She began to cry. If he was to go, she would rather be dead at his side, than to live without him. "Promise me…if you love me…swear to it.." she said through broken sobs.

Erik's eyes welled. He was not accustomed to bargaining, especially over serious matters.

"Promise," she whimpered, now fearing he would not, and she would have to tell him.

Erik's grip around her tightened as he pulled her neck up to his face, kissing it tenderly. "I promise Christine." He whispered into her ear.

She ran her arms around his neck embracing him, sobbing all the more. He had relented, and soon they would be making a decision that would affect them all….

Erik sat Christine up straight, drying her eyes with the sleeve of his night shirt. She stifled her crying as best as she was able, her breathing was staggered but steady.

"Shhh…" he crooned. She needed to calm herself. He took her hands into his. "Now tell me Christine, tell me of this dream."

She looked over at the tray of steaming stew and hot coffee. "May I have a sip," she asked. Yes, she was indeed thirsty, but truly she needed a moment. A moment where she wasn't looking into those intense eyes. She needed to muster her courage, stay strong, for she knew he would protest, down to the last breath.

Erik rose quickly retrieving a cup for her. He sat down on the bed alongside her. She was shivering. He took the robe from his shoulders slipping it carefully around her.

"Erik, it was a dream…not a normal dream…" she pressed her eyes closed the pain of her words would be certain. "It was one such as that I first had of Meg."

Erik's eyes widened. He'd expected her to talk about the children, her father perhaps, but Meg? "What of it Christine, what did you see?"

Once again she broke down into tears. "Erik, it was Meg…and Nadir…." Erik's brows grew ever higher, his heart pace quickened. "They were in the Opera House, in your house. It was dark, they were on the bank on the opposite shore, not far from the swan."

Erik's brow furrowed. "What of it Christine?" Surely Nadir would not have harmed Meg, this dream would be most false, he felt himself relaxing a bit.

Christine looked at Erik her lips trembling, "Nadir was on the floor, blood….blood everywhere…he was in Meg's lap."

Erik felt his heart skip a beat, seeming to come to a halt. "What was it that you saw Christine?"

She shook, the fear overtaking her. "I saw them, Nadir was limp, and Meg…she was pleading with someone…"

Erik stood, he began to pace the floor. "Who was it Christine, did you see that?"

Christine shook her head, she'd not seen him. "Though I heard his words Erik, they chill me just thinking of them."

Erik came to her, kneeling on the ground before her. "What were the words Christine, pray do tell me."

Christine swallowed, "the dark figure that stood over Meg, taunting her. The voice come from the dark figure, "that was for my father, and you…you shall be the sacrifice for my brother, it seems only fitting, do you not think?" Meg was covering her face with one hand as she cowered over Nadir. The screaming and pleading began yet again." Christine looked into Erik's face that now had gone ashen.

He closed his eyes, why, why had he promised? "Erik, I don't know how or why they would find themselves in the Opera House. Truly, I can make no sense of it. You have said yourself that Nadir had not been there, he'd not have known his way, perhaps that is why Meg was with him, but why, what would draw them there?"

Erik shook his head, he couldn't imagine it. "Christine, Nadir is a purposeful man. If he'd seen fit to take Meg there as guide or otherwise, there must have been good reason for it."

Christine shook her head. This was silly, they were talking of events as if they'd actually happened, and she prayed in her heart that they were but folly. "Erik, it could be but a dream, perhaps I was mistaken." Christine wanted nothing more than for it to be false. She tried, desperately in her mind to find some plausible answer to the lot of it, but alas, she could not. She looked at Erik, she could see the turmoil in his face. His brow was as deeply furrowed as she could ever recall seeing it. The vein on the side of his neck bulged. She watched him with a steady eye.

He stood, pacing back and forth. He stopped to look at her, hanging his head low he paced and paced. It was driving Christine quite mad.

Erik's mind was moving at lightening speed. The weather, it was not favorable. Christine had felt well, and all seemed fine, but a bumpy trip hours away to Paris, was the last thing a woman with child needed. He had promised. Nadir was his oldest friend. Meg was the daughter to his dearest friend…she was nearly a sister to Christine. He looked back up at Christine, she was staring at him. It did not ease the weight of the decision he must make. If it were just he to consider, he'd have already been making preparations. But with Christine….he closed his eyes. He had promised…he had promised.

Christine sat nervously watching as Erik paced back and forth, back and forth without a word. She became more nervous as each minute passed. Would he go back on his word? Would he go without her? Would he decide not to go at all? She could take it no longer. "Erik?"

He turned to her, his eyes flashing. She winced but quickly realized it was not a look of anger…it was…she thought for the very first time…a look of…was it…fear? She blinked, perhaps her eyes deceived her. She glanced again and the look was gone.

"Wait here Christine." She started to rise. Erik walked over to her, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Wait here." He leaned down placing a reassuring kiss on her cheek. "I shall be back in but a few minutes." He glanced over at the bowl of cooling stew. "Do eat my dear, you may be needing it."

Christine followed him to the door, putting her hand on it as it closed behind him. She had no idea where he was going, or what it was that he intended to do. She only knew that when he'd taken that tone to his voice, that he was serious. Very, very, serious.

She sat down on the divan by the hearth. The table with the bowls of stew sat off to the side. She looked down at her clothing, over at the bed and back to the bowl again. She wanted to crawl back in that bed, pull the covers up over her head and pretend she'd dreamed the entire unpleasant thing, though she knew she couldn't. She looked down at her nightclothes. She wanted to rise, change into something suitable for traveling, but she knew she shouldn't.

She looked down at the stew, running her hand across her stomach. She had no appetite to speak of, but she knew she must eat. It had been a long while since she'd consumed anything of substance, and though she could easily do with out it, she knew the children she carried could not. She lifted the bowl taking the first bite. It was as delicious as it smelled, though she couldn't bring herself to enjoy it. It might as well have been dirt or mortar, she could not enjoy it…. She took bite after bite until nearly half the bowl was gone. She was certain it had taken her at least ten minutes to eat that much, and she could eat no more lest she make herself quite ill. She picked up the cup. The coffee long since cold was bitter now, she went to sit it down on the table, blinking, carefully lifting the cup and returning it properly to its saucer.

Christine looked down at the tray. She'd not noticed it before, but a singular flower lay across it, between the two bowls. A white rose. She lifted it, raising it to her nose. She closed her eyes. It was the flower of hope. She pressed it against her lips, uttering a quiet prayer. "Please dear God, let us not find them in the circumstances which I saw. Please keep them safe Lord, keep them safe until we can reach them. Lord let there be a way for us to go to them…both of us.

XXXXXX

Raoul, Meg, and Madame Giry sat waiting. They'd heard him, and knew he must be on his way to join them. Raoul stood as his father entered the room. Although he looked a bit disheveled, he was in a jacket. "Sit, sit, Raoul, my son." DeChagny said as he admonished Raoul.

Madeline was quickly on his heels. She wanted to see to supper for the ladies especially, it had been a long while since their last meal, no doubt they would have hunger by now.

She brought out a shallow dishes of potato soup. It was something warm and welcome, and she knew it was one of Raoul's favorites.

He smiled at her as she sat his soup plate down in front of him. "Thank you Madeline." The four of them sat in near silence as they began to consume this first course. Raoul looked up at Meg on several occasions smiling.

DeChagny noticed the familiar glances. "No doubt your activities today agreed with you quite well." He smiled at the both of them.

Raoul glanced back at his father. "And I see a bit of sleep has improved your demeanor." Raoul hadn't meant to be acerbic, for truly his father had no idea that he'd been overheard.

DeChagny did not respond directly, but instead retorted, "I enjoyed a most pleasurable rest". He repositioned himself in the chair as his bowl was emptied. He looked about for the customary bottle of wine for dinner, but there was none. He looked down at his glass. It was filled with water. Perhaps he could manage dinner without it, but he'd have preferred not if he'd had his way. But, this was Raoul's house, and if so desired to have a meal without it, he would not even make mention of it.

Madeline came in clearing the soup plates. Delivering a fresh pot of tea. Raoul nodded to her, picking up the pot going from cup to cup filling them. His father simply watched with curious eyes, but said nothing.

Soon Madeline was back a freshly roasted rack of lamb with a cherry glaze, and a dish of herbed potatoes. She sat them on the table and went to retrieve the bread that had just come from the oven. All eyes were on the perfectly dressed rack of lamb, it was as pleasing to behold as it was likely to be to consume. Returning she began to slice the lamb for them, taking turns filling their plates.

As they prepared to begin they heard a rattling at the window. Raoul shook his head. "No doubt it is the wind, just as it was the evening of the storms arrival."

He smiled as they went about enjoying their dinner. It had been a fairly pleasant day, and that is they way he wished to end it. If he was to easily transition Meg to not having him in her room when she woke, he would do so gradually, trying to preserve all other aspects of the relationship that they now shared.

"Terribly good lamb son." DeChagny said to Raoul as he nodded with his mouth full. Madeline came in without a word, and put several more on his plate. Very good indeed.

XXXXX

Beneath what remained of the tree was the hollowed out shell of the charred carriage. The sides of the drifts surrounding the gully carved in the snow, bore evidence to the mad scramblings two creatures had made hours before as they escaped barely with their lives, one man, one beast.

He'd not planned, nor had he wanted to venture out of the temporary haven that afternoon, but his carelessness had necessitated it. He'd fallen asleep with a fire just kindled. It grew large enough to lap at the lower boughs of the tree. It had taken minutes only before the tree was being consumed, losing its branch on top of the coach. The fresh laquer of a new carriage provided food for the wildly spreading fire.

The boy had been so exhausted he'd slept until the neighing and thrashing about of his horse made him wake. He'd tried to douse it with snow, but it was too far gone. He'd only time to scramble into the carriage retrieving his satchel before the roof fell in.

He had quickly unleashed his horse who fought with the now sloping banks of the snow. The warmth of the day, and the cooling temperatures of the late afternoon had caused the snow to compact making it as hard as any road, though decidedly less than even. As the horse tried and failed several times to scale the bank, the boy had no choice but to scale it himself, sliding about on its surface before finally coming to the crest. He had taken the horse's reins and now pulled for all he was worth until the beast was finally freed.

The horse wanted to bolt, remove itself from the present danger, but the boy held fast to the reins. From a safe distance he watched as all he had left in this world of his family's went up in flames. He had been careless, and now he had nothing…and nothing left to lose, and but one promise to keep. It made him more dangerous than ever.

**Author's Notes:**

**Dear Faithfuls**: Again my undying gratitude for those in our Phamily who have made the journey thus far. I could never have imagined the day I posted the very first chapter that I would find myself still adding to the story in November! I am so very thankful to all of you for your encouraging words, and for joining me on the path to what I pray is truly, the world as it should have been for our beloved Phantom and his beloved Christine. K

**PhantomsRogue**: Work, work, work, makes us tired and sometimes dull. I am sad to say that I have yet another separation coming from the Phamily. Next week I will be away from all things normal once again from Wednesday through Sunday. There is so much to be done out in this world, and I suppose I shall do my small part! I do promise you that I WILL get to that e-mail before I go, it is my solemn vow!

You are most welcome for the critique of 'American Psycho'. It makes the scene you refer to in 'Moulin Rouge' seem like the first day of kindergarten, and the first scenes of 'Psycho' is the first year of college! It really is that bad, disturbing is probably the best way to put it. While so much is not believable, you could see how some strange personality that had no regard for human life might actually do things like this. I've found myself pausing on different scenes in my mind, and that is not a good thing. There was so much I had to fast-forward through that I think I spared myself some of the worst of it. Anyway, enough time and thought spent on it. Tell your boyfriend you'll get him an appointment with a shrink if he needs to watch it! LOL! Just kidding!

I have not seen either of the two movies that you suggest, but I shall look for them at the video centre. I do like Miranda Richardson and Helena Bonham-Carter, so I am certain that I'd like it, and I trust your judgment. I will look for the sound track for 'The Corpse Bride', I do love a good soundtrack. Did you ever find the one for 'Batman Begins'? That is dark music, very dark. I do think Erik would have loved it!

I wish my dear Rogue, that I could promise you that Nadir is safe…but surely after this chapter…you see my dear…no one is truly safe. A shadow had fallen, and it was casting its treacherous reaches towards the man….

Le bon jour mon âme-soeur, ma soeur !

**PhantomLover05:** They say that there is art in brevity…thank you for your kind comment. I trust that the story thus far has met with your approval…and I am glad that you are continuing on this journey with the Phamily.

**Musicofthenight13**: Good to hear from you. At the risk of sounding coy, the babies will arrive, all in due time my dear, all in due time! They have a considerable amount of growing to do.

**Nordygirl**: My, my, you do have quite a range of musicals don't you! I could almost see Donny Osmond as the music rolled in my head!

My dear, never feel like you are rambling…especially with me! If anyone could ever be accused of rambling, of being too verbose, it would be me! I do agree with your statement regarding self-expression. It gives us the chance to show the world who were born to be. It is like giving them a page of your life and saying, "this is who I am, I hope you can appreciate me for my uniqueness." Oh my, so many books have been written on that very subject.

Have a wonderful night!

**Tex110**: So very good to hear from you! Now I must say the Phamily is more than interested in what your trespass might have been that would have earned you a month-long ban from the umbilical cord that connects you to us! So, if you can, do share. If not, please do think of us before you do it again…we do not like being separated from our Phamily members LOL!

I am glad that you enjoyed Erik's story of rescuing the piano. It is my hope that it further reinforces the core of his goodness, of his appreciation for things that are beyond his own world, and that he was willing to risk something of himself for people he'd never met. I think it sets a tone for him as a person. Though something from his past haunts him, there are good things that he's done too, and those are the very things he will learn to cling to over the coming months….I can say no more.

Now, sneaking around behind the 'parental units' is never a good thing, as one always seems to get caught…some way or another…(Just ask Raoul!) That said, we hope sincerely that your month's ban is nearly at its end!

Until we hear from you again, we bid you adieu

**PhantomFan13**: We do miss you when you are gone, but school work is an important thing to do…feeding the mind…you never need to apologize for that my dear!

Yes, alas, we did know that Erik and Christine could not long remain angry with one another. Though this is a new development in their relationship. This is the first time that they'd both been angry, and quite at odds with each other. I think it is a testament to how they are growing more comfortable with one another. It is only when one becomes truly comfortable with another that the truest of emotions show….

As for Meg and Christine, I wish I could tell you, but then I would have to lock you in a room, and since I do not know where in the world you are, it is impossible, so for now, I will have to avoid answering the question, but to say….no, I simply cannot. I pray you'll forgive me

Yes, you might well be right about LadyWinifred…but we shall see!

Have a wonderful night! Keep up the school work my dear!


	151. Fated Promises

Chapter 151 Fated Promises 

Erik was out in the stables with Erphan. They'd been digging with great fervor through the recesses of the barn. The only true sleigh the household possessed was the formal one that was used for hauling supplies from Chauesser and Courtland Manor to the winter house. It had been tradition that they never traveled to the winter house until the first snow. The sleigh was covered, making it perfect for the task. But now it was buried somewhere in the barn. It was mere happenstance that it had not been transported back to Courtland Manor. Perhaps the staff had been so distracted by the master of the house and all of his guests being present at Courtland Manor. Whatever the case, Erik was grateful that it remained there. He reminded himself as they were heaving boards to and fro, that he did not

Having never seen it with his own eyes, he wasn't certain of what parts to look for, as it had been disassembled for the journey back to Courtland Manor. Erphan was busy climbing over boards and other items that had been laid across.

"Strange…" Erphan said at one point as he climbed yet another pile. Erik flashed him a glance. "It's just that Sir, I don't remember leaving this in such disarray, most normally it is very tidy, and I shan't recall some of these boards, nor those boxes."

Erik was neither interested nor amused, he had one thing and one thing only on his mind. Finding that sleigh and seeing if it were possible to make it hospitable enough for the journey.

Erphan handed out the tip of the first runner, Erik grabbing it and helping him to lower it to the ground. Within twenty minutes time, they'd all the necessary pieces laid out on the floor of the carriage house. Erphan had woken all hands in the stables, everyone would help. He'd sent the stable boy in to wake Misty and the others, they'd need to prepare baskets for the trip. Soon the entire house was lit and bustling.

The eldest maid was shaking her head. This household was becoming far too unpredictable for her liking. "Who rises and heads off to Paris on a whim at this time of night?" She'd said to one of the others as they began heating items on the stove and packing baskets. The other woman was simply thankful to have a job with such a pleasant man. Whatever he asked, she would do for him. After all, that was the quintessence of her position in his employ.

XXXX

Christine sat fidgeting in their bedchamber upstairs. She'd heard the household come to life on the floor beneath her. Finally she could take it no longer. She went to the window looking outside. It was dark now, and she could see the lights in the stable. She squinted as she saw something being pushed out onto the snow. Just off to the side stood a quartet of horses, warm blankets and saddles she could see. Then she watched as a large black what appeared to be a box rose from behind the other item. She knew at once, it was a covered sleigh. Only the finest households had them…she smiled….it was no surprise to her that Erik had one of his own.

She watched as the men affixed the top to the sides. She saw Erik directing them. He'd requested extra tarps and ties to be added to the sides, to provide further protection from the wind. She watched as the men put up poles around the sides of the driver's bench, lashing on several tarps there, no doubt for the benefit of the driver. She watched patiently, but with great curiosity as they transformed the covered sleigh into something of a different sort. It was less appealing visually, but more functional, and it suited its purpose well. The last thing, a small cast iron kettle was slid inside the main compartment. She smiled, no doubt Erik had planned to have coals put in it for warmth. No, they wouldn't last the entire five hours or more to Paris, but it would provide some comfort to them during the first leg of the journey.

She knew from the elaborate preparations that Erik was making, that he'd be keeping his promise. She spun around on her heels. She'd need to dress warmly, as warmly as she could.

Going to her wardrobe she retrieved a bag and began filling it. She wasn't certain what to bring; how long would they be gone? She knew not. She decided on three sets, the most plain and functional she could find. It was not an easy task as most of what Erik had procured for her was decidedly more refined, and in keeping with a lady of her standing. She'd laid out a wool dress and pantaloons, and several other items she would wear when she dressed. She scurried about the room, collecting whatever she thought she might need. Slipping from her current nightdress, she folded it putting it into the bag. She was just turning to put on her dress when the bedroom door flew open.

Erik entered, taken back by what he saw. He quickly went to her, putting his cloak around her. She shuddered, he was freezing to the touch.

"Christine…" his lips greeted hers. She shivered, the cold of his cloak along her back foretold the chill of the trip they were about to embark upon. He removed the gloves from his hands, running his hands along her bare flesh. It was as if his hands were making a map of her lest they forget their way. "I wish you would reconsider my dear." He said as his hand came to rest on her abdomen. He kissed her forehead, as he glanced over at the bag that was packed and waiting by the door. He knew she shan't.

"Erik, I must be with you. The trip is so far, what if the vision changes, what if…"

Erik put his finger to her lips. "We can not live in that world Christine…for every question that begins with that word there are a million plausible answers." She nodded, he was right. "I've prepared the sleigh, though it will be barely suitable, it shan't be a pleasant trip my love. I worry for you, for all of you." He said as he took her into an embrace.

Though she knew his concerns were sincere, she would not be left behind again, for that truly would be the greater of the two evils.

As he held her close to him, he knew he'd no hope in dissuading her. He would knew of a place to deposit her when they arrived in Paris. Though he would keep his promise and not abandon her, he had would not, no matter how she protested, take her down to the lake beneath the Opera House. Erphan would have his instruction. He would drop Erik at the edge of the City and take Christine to another location so that even he would not be aware of Erik's whereabouts. He'd never blended these two worlds, and he'd no desire to do so now.

It was a dangerous thing he did taking the two of them back to Paris. If they were found, if they discovered Christine…. No, there was that word again…IF….he must practice what he preached.

"Christine, we will be on our way within the hour. The preparations are being made, but do take time." He pulled her even closer to him. Christine shivered. She was nervous, she was frightened. He wanted to comfort her, but he knew neither would rest, nor be comforted until they knew that Meg and Nadir were safe.

"Let's see to getting you dressed my dear." Erik said as he peeked over her shoulder at the tray on the table. "I see you've eaten, that is very good my dear, very good indeed." He said as he reached over lifting the chemise and handing it to her under his cloak. She ducked her head beneath it as he held out his arms making a temporary shelter of warmth for her. He handed her the dress, smiling, she had selected something suitable for traveling.

"Finished," came her voice from beneath his cloak. He settled his arms around her shoulders. "Christine, this will be most perilous. I know that you shan't be convinced to remain in the safety of the winter house," he paused, hoping beyond hope to see even a slight indication that she might reconsider. When she did not, he continued, "I must ask of you but one thing. Once we arrive in Paris, we must be exceedingly cautious. It is true it has been months my dear, but a face such as yours will not be easily forgotten."

Christine looked down. In all of the confusion she'd not even thought of that, she thought only of Meg and Nadir, and being separated from Erik. It had been so long since she'd had need to hide her identity.

"Christine we must be exceedingly careful, lest we be parted forever by our disregard for a City in need of closure of its earlier disaster." He looked down at her most seriously. "We shall have no peace if our presence is revealed, they shall hunt us until we are dead if they suspect."

So much began to swirl in her mind. It was a great risk that they took even venturing back into that City. If it were not for the risk to Meg and Nadir, and Erik's surety in her visions, it shan't be considered. Nevertheless, far too much was at stake. "Erik, we shall be careful, and I shall be most obedient. You have kept your promise, making provisions that I may join you. I in turn, will promise you I will be most obedient, and exceedingly careful my love."

Erik smiled. He would have to remind her of her promise when the time came…just as she had him.

XXXXX

Nadir met Baron LeFavre at the front of the foyer as they'd agreed. The doctor had been there but a few minutes, having stayed and finished his dinner. "Good sir," Nadir said as he walked up to join the man, "would you prefer to be addressed as Baron, or doctor, or would you prefer yet some other moniker?"

Nadir and the doctor were walking side by side toward the front door. The doctor laughed. "Most of my patients address me by merely doctor. Those I conduct business with otherwise address me as Doctor Baron LeFavre. You sir, you shall call me your friend."

Nadir and the doctor both laughed. "As you wish friend." The door opened, it was the driver. He'd readied the sleigh.

"Off to DeChagny's Monsier, doctor?"

The men nodded as they headed for the sleigh. The trip would be a cold one, but it was more than necessary….Raoul would understand.

XXXXX

The boy watched from the alley as the men climbed into the sleigh. They bundled themselves in heavy blankets as the sleigh pulled away from the Opera House. He'd wanted to discover where the Vicomte lived. This would be his chance, he could follow them. The group looked a bit too formal, and with the street lights having come on, they might recognize him. No, he would go across to the tavern, likely someone there would know where the Vicomte lived.

XXXXX

Nicole sat waiting rather impatiently for the doctor to finish with her mother. They'd been in that room for what seemed to be a dreadfully long while. Perhaps he'd spent time consoling the woman in the depths of her grief.

Nicole stared into the flames. Her mind wandered to the bag that Kathryn mentioned. Surely the monsieur would be missing it. The next day would be one spent traditionally in mourning. She'd not be permitted to work neither by custom nor her employer. Perhaps if the weather permitted, her friend's father would be willing to escort her by sleigh to deliver it. The Monsieur had provided so very much for them in finding her, and now, this most grand gesture of providing for her final disposition. She'd want to thank him personally.

Nicole thought she might be in the laundry just now, she would inquire. Nicole was rising to go, but as she did she glanced up as she saw the door at the end of the hall open slightly. The doctor was walking down the hall to join her, she stood to greet him. She peered over his shoulder, her mother had not accompanied him. Her eyes quickly becoming wet from the most serious look he had on his face.

"Come let us sit." He said, gesturing for Nicole to sit by him on the bench in front of the fire. He swallowed hard. Though he'd much experience delivering bad news, there was something particularly pitiful about what he had to tell this young woman, in light of the present circumstances.

Nicole joined him on the bench, her eyes and lips already trembling. "Doctor?"

He looked down sighing. "Nicole," he looked up at her with all the courage and assuredness he could muster, "Nicole, your mother is dying." Her hand instinctively flew up to her mouth. Her breathing grew shallow and she rocked back before plunging forward toward the ground, the doctor catching her, and sitting her up once more.

"Nicole, this is a most difficult thing that I share with you. Your mother, by her own professions has not felt well for some time. She'd thought her fatigue to be normal considering the situation with your grandmother. It is her heart Nicole, and her lungs. They seem to have been damaged by something…"

Nicole interrupted, "Scarlet Fever…she had it when she was a young girl…grandmother told me of it."

The doctor looked down, "yes that would explain it quite well, your mother did not mention it to me." He sighed and continued, "I do not know how long she has Nicole, months perhaps, her heart is quite weak. Let us just say this will be a most special summer for the both of you."

Nicole could not contain herself. Though it was nearly silent, she wept bitterly. The doctor knew there were no words that would provide this girl comfort, so he simply held her until she'd cried herself dry.

She sat up gasping in the throws of grief and regret, "tell me, did our exertions in the past day…did they hasten this?"

He looked down, a thoughtful answer was due her. "Nicole, no doubt any exertions on your mother's part, places demands on her heart will not make easier for her. But your mother would have suffered more greatly had she been made to remain."

Nicole looked down. She knew her mother shouldn't have gone.

The doctor sighed. He'd learned much his last year in University. There was a new school of though brewing, not at all popular, and in fact quite contrary to what had been taught for a good many years. A doctor's obligation was to prolong life. Indeed his success was measured in quantity of days a patient lived. But truly the days filled with pain and suffering did little for the patient, they were merely a gift to the family, the friends, the loved ones of the ill, it was in fact an act of cruelty to prolong the suffering of one, for the benefit of the other. This new thought embraced the ideals of treating the patient, and keeping the patient's needs before the others.

Much was being discussed now about quality of life, not for the survivor's sake, but for the patient's. Success in this new school of thought, would be measured by the patient's final moments…had they been able to benefit from their last days…had they been able to do all they wished until the last?…That would be the truest measure of success.

The doctor looked at her. "Nicole, do not make your mother helpless these last months of her life. Allow her to do what she feels she can. She will know when it is time to slow down." He glanced down at he with such pity, it was a great burden for such a young woman.

"Nicole, have you any relatives, next of kin that may help you these coming months?"

Nicole looked at him with furrowed brow, then quickly retreated her glance. He'd only just arrived in Chauesser himself just days ago, what would he know of her circumstances. She looked out the window. "No sir, no father, no siblings, indeed my mother and father were only children themselves. My mother's heart had been weakened by the fever, and baring me had nearly done her in. We'd no other relatives here sir, my grandmother was our sole reason for coming here. It was at your grandfather's behest that we came to Chauesser."

The doctor looked down at her, "and what of your husband, could he offer you help?"

Nicole again looked at him with consternation, then suddenly realized the origin of his erroneous thoughts as he was glancing at her left hand. "No, I've no husband." She lifted her hand displaying the ring as she twisted it between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand. "This was my grandmother's, she gave it to me in the last moments of her life."

The doctor looked down, knowing full well that what he was about to say may be construed as being a bit too forward. "Nicole, it seems that fate has deposited both you and I in this city."

Nicole looked at him a bit confused by his statement.

"You see, when I'd set off to go to university, my grandfather agreed to provide funds for my schooling in return for a promise. I'd had to promise to spend my first year of practice in Chauesser. He loved this city, and had stayed here for nearly all of his years. He said that it was the good citizens of Chauesser that had allowed him the funds to share with me, so in truth my debt was to them, not he."

Nicole's tears had dried, distracted by the story the doctor now told. Yet another soul bound by obligation such as she.

"I'd hoped to practice under his experienced guidance while I was here, he was a very intelligent man I am told, but sadly he passed before I'd even finished my education."

Nicole looked down, he did understand loss.

"I've not forgotten my promise, though to do so I had to leave behind all that I knew, all that I had been comfortable with."

Nicole understood that far better than he might have imagined.

"It seems that we've this in common. Nicole, I hope you do not find this too forward of me, but I've a thought, that perhaps might bring both of us comfort in the coming months. You are quite without a helpmate, and I am quite without any family. Perhaps I could be of assistance to you and your mother, and you could help me become familiar with this city, the people."

Nicole blinked, could she be hearing his words correctly?

"I do not need an answer now Nicole, it is something for you to think on. It seems that fate has deposited us both here, quite without our best intentions. Perhaps we can be of shared comfort to one another during this time of transition."

Nicole was without words. How had she been deposited in this seemingly God-forsaken city? How would she ever find her way through this all, and now, this new friend…he shared a similar fate…to be so far from what one wanted and in a city they'd never have chosen…perhaps it was fate, though however cruel. "Doctor, I've no way to.."

He interrupted her, for surely he knew her concern. "Do not worry Nicole, Monsieur Courtland insisted he take care of things for your family, though I'd not have charged you. He is quite a strong willed man isn't he?"

Nicole nodded, she couldn't agree more. She looked down at her hands, they were trembling.

The doctor leaned over placing his hand on her shoulder. "Nicole, we best have a look at you as well." He retrieved a stethoscope from his onyx leather satchel. Nicole watched as he raised it to her chest listening. She wondered if his shiny instrument could detect a broken heart….for surely she had one.

He sighed, removing the instrument from his ears, putting it back in his bag. He stared down at his lap.

Nicole saw his hesitancy, "doctor?"

He looked up at her shaking his head, quickly realizing his actions had been misunderstood. "No, no, you are fine, nothing that a bit of rest and pots of tea and honey will not cure." He sighed again as he looked into Nicole's eyes. "Go to your mother now, though she is likely asleep, as I've given her something to make her more comfortable. Enjoy every moment with her Nicole…that is the greatest gift you can give her now."

He rose, patting her on the shoulder as he headed toward the back of the inn. He'd others to tend to now. She was left alone with the knowledge of the departed and those who waited to depart, it was all very overwhelming.

XXXXX

The woman in the kitchens of the Opera House was shaking her head looking down at the envelope in her hand.

"What is it?" The woman looked at the other.

"Did the Vicomte really say we were to do whatever was asked of us by this man?" The other was sweeping up the floor.

"That is what Madame said." She scowled, "what is that you are holding?"

The other swallowed, a sudden look of fear coming over her face. "It is a note."

The other woman looked at her a bit irritated. "And why does this cause you such distress?" She said as she pushed the broom into the corner, leaning it against the wall and undoing her apron.

"I'm to deliver it for the man."

The other woman laughed, "and is it that you do not want to go out into the cold, venture out into the snow? Have you grown that comfortable in the improved surroundings that you shan't…" The woman stopped, the face of the woman holding the envelope was washboard white.

"I'm to deliver it yet this night…to LeMortem Street!"

The other woman's eyes grew wide, an audible gasp rising from her throat. "Surely not…" the other woman was nodding her head.

"He was quite clear, it needed to be delivered before the sun rose." They stood looking at the envelope as though it was the very root of poison. It was simply addressed, 'Good Sir'. The woman who held the envelope looked pleadingly at the other, "say you'll accompany me…say that you'll…"

The other woman was shaking her head, "please do not ask me, take a man, take anyone else, not me…." The woman was backing out of the kitchen, the other in pursuit, pleading….

XXXXX

The shopkeeper closed and locked the door behind the last customer. He pulled the curtain down over the door. It had been customary that the mercantile would remain open until the last one left of their own accord. This time, he'd hastened their departure. It had been more than an hour since the last purchase of any sort, and discussion had turned to gossip, and gossip to disparaging comments, and he'd had nearly all he could take.

He looked over at his wife and daughter who were busily cleaning up the teapots and plates left on the tables by the ladies that had graced them. The smoking room was a most unpleasant mess, urns filled, snifters laying here and there.

It had been a brisk day; nearly every shelf had spots that were entirely bare. He had always been a prudent shopkeeper, and his belief in keeping adequate amounts of good in his storehouse had proven to be most far-sighted. He'd hoped that travel to Paris would be possible within the week, for surely by then even his most careful planning would be foiled. Nothing sparked pandemonium in a shop more quickly than the impression of shortage, and he'd no want of that in his mercantile.

His wife and daughter were no doubt as tired as he, and the gentleman inside of him wished he could send them off to supper and bed, as none had partaken of any meal, nor had even a moments rest since they'd opened their doors some long hours ago. He sighed, but he could not. Even all hands working for several hours would barely return the mercantile to a suitable state.

He began emptying the many urns he watched his wife. She worked hard without complaint. She'd been a good companion, a suitable merchant's wife. She deserved so much more. Perhaps when the summer came, and things were more even, he would take her for a weekend in Paris…she deserved that…they all did. He smiled, perhaps some day.

Author's Notes:

**Dear Faithfuls**: I do not know if everyone experienced trouble accessing the website this weekend, but try though I might, I was not able to get into it no matter what I tried. I am terribly sorry for missing the Friday edition. So here it is, on Monday! I must tell you that I will again be away from our beloved story from Wednesday through Sunday, another departure, but I promise to bring back something worthy of your patience. At least this time I will be somewhere that I can recharge my battery on my laptop, though I won't have access to the internet to post. I thank you for not abandoning our phamily during my absences…I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter!

**PhantomsRogue**: Yes, I shall, before my departure my dear, respond to your message. This past weekend I had but ten hours to myself out of the entire time, and of course I made good use of those by sleeping! I understand your toils for school…the end of semesters are both a joyful (if you hate the class) and tedious (if you've put off a project that is now due in a week)…not to mention studying and trying to work, and save something for Christmas….ahhh…I do remember those days well.

One last thing about 'Psycho' and then I shall not speak of the movie again. True, there are no rape scenes in the movie, though I have to say what they do have is nearly more disturbing than if it were. It is one movie that if I could remove from my memory bank, I would. The people that made the movie should be ashamed to call it their work…yes…it was that foul.

O.K., on to something much more fun. I shall look for the movies you mentioned. If I can find them, and take them with me, it might be what I do in my down time…if there is any! LOL!

As for Christine traveling with Erik to Paris…though I'd not recommend that type of travel for a woman in her condition, she is very strong willed and would not be left behind. Here we can see that Christine played her trump card with Erik. He is true to his word, and very loyal, not to mention he has an incredible soft spot for the woman, so he felt he'd no choice but to take her….do not worry my dear, the snow will provide a much smoother ride than a bumpy dirt road….oh how far in advance I had to plan that part of the story! As for Nadir having the upper hand, no doubt, if he felt threatened or if he even knew that there was danger lurking for him, he no doubt would have the upper hand. Often the strongest are brought down but what they did not expect…I can think of several, but probably no more good an example than David and Goliath. I laughed when you said it would not bode well for Erik and Christine to show up in Paris…do not think that Erik has not been worried sick over it!

And to you dear sister, bon nuit!

**NordyGirl**: Yet another great addition to your collection! I agree with you. Raoul would make a nice friend…but no one could love our Christine like the Phantom! I watched the movie again last night before I went to sleep…this time going over in slow motion the part where Christine was waking up in the Phantom's lair after having fainted when she saw the mannequin of her in a wedding dress. There was the one part when he first sees her emerge from the bedroom and he sees as she begins to walk towards him. If you play it in slow motion you can see every emotion that he is going through, first surprise that she is awake. Then pleasure at being called a man. Then it changes to concern maybe fear that she couldn't want him, the to a strange look of she couldn't possibly love him, that he was not worthy of her, to a resolve that he'd be strong as he was certain of her rejection….and then….when she finally touches the side of his face….oh that look…that look of finally being touched in kindness…out of love…..well darned….I just about made myself cry all over again. There are so many parts of that movie that reach out and grab me. You know, I don't care what all of the professional "movie critics" said about the movie and its cast. I think it was brilliantly done. The sets were superb, the music beyond moving-bordering on heavenly, and the acting…I don't think another cast could have done a better job. I sound like I'm on a soap box, but I just don't get why the critics were so hard on the movie, when it finally brought this beautifully dark love story to life for so many to see. O.K., enough said…

Have a wonderful night!

**Poetzproblem**: Welcome back! We've a few returning phamily members this time, which I am happy to see. I miss all of you, and as a true family would be, I worry when I haven't heard from you!

As far as a reunion with Meg and Christine, I would neither rule that in or out at this point, though, as you point out, so many things are possible. I think it is safe to say that their trip to Paris will be a bit of revelation for them on many different levels….a turning point of sorts perhaps. I can say no more of course lest I spoil the story!

Good to hear from you. I hope all is going well for you.

**Christineluvserik**: Welcome back my dear! I was hoping you'd tell us how the move went and if you were enjoying that "Courtland Manor" of yours! No doubt you've settled in quite nicely, in spite of having the flu… Moving is such a big chore…I'm certain it feels wonderful to have that behind you. Now you can spend your time dreaming about how you are going to decorate for the holidays!

I'm happy that you enjoyed the fluff…though I'm not all that capable of writing grand love scenes…I am far to shy! LOL!

Have a wonderful night, and enjoy that house of yours!

**Batteredchild**: Yes, darned Crawlings…he is out there and certain to cause trouble at every turn! Yes, Christine's dreams or premonitions are very convenient, which those sorts of things often are. Yet another true confession….my great-great grandmother had what the family called visions. Whenever someone close to the family died, she would say, "I just saw (insert name here) walking through the gates of the cemetery." Then the family would find out later that this was when that person died! I guess it happened so many times that people just took her word for it, and started making plans to attend the funeral. She even foresaw her own death, getting all of her funeral clothes out laying them out on the bed, and setting all of her affairs in order, saying her goodbyes, etc.! All too eerie if you ask me! So do I believe in psychics, not so much. Do I believe in premonitions… I'd have to say I think things are far too strange sometimes to be considered coincidence.

Hope you enjoyed this most recent chapter!

**LadyWinifred**: If you read other reviewers comments, you no doubt have seen that they were taking a stab at the origins of your name, but alas…if you do not remember…we may have to make up a story for you! LOL!

Yes, the Crawlings boy does seem to be something of a thorn in their side doesn't he!

Have a great evening dear Lady!


	152. Following Orders

Chapter 152 Following Orders 

**Dear Faithfuls**: A slightly more complex, longer chapter. My form of advance apology for having to be gone yet again. There are many twists and turns ahead for the characters in our story, and this chapter is but a glimpse of what is to come. I did not mean to leave you with a cliffe, but do remember that things are not always as they seem.

Erik had made his way back to the stable. Peering inside the sleigh to make certain all of his requests had been put in order. The pot had been affixed to the floor, a heavy latched cover tightly on the top so as to keep the coals inside if the sleigh tipped. It was a most unusual arrangement he knew, but he'd have to see to keeping her warm for as long as he could. Their trip would no doubt take a bit longer, but then again the snow provided opportunity to travel in a different way. There were few who likely knew the land between Chauesser and Paris better than he, perhaps a regular courier, but Erik had oft made the trip without the use of roads. He could take them in a much different route. If the snow was as firm as it appeared to be, they should have no trouble at all traveling as the crow flies.

Erick glimpsed at Erphan, taking took notice that the young man was properly dressed; an eager look of anticipation in his eyes. A sword on his belt and a gun on his shoulder; he was prepared. Erik had already stowed several items of his own inside the covered sleigh. He joined Erphan. "You'd best get something warm in your stomach. The horses will soon finish their oats. I shall retrieve Christine." He put his hand on his shoulder, looking him squarely in the eye. "It is a good thing that you do; a considerable thing that I ask of you. You know the risks do you not, with Crawlings still on the loose?"

Erphan never flinched. Returning Erik's gaze. "Monsieur, I would not have it any other way. You've taken such care of your household, even from a distance, it is now time for us to return that favor…It is my honor sir."

Erick felt a brief smile cross his face. Erphan was incorrigible, there was no doubt of it. But he was teachable, and every encounter Erik had with him reaffirmed as much.

Erik patted him on the shoulder, "very well, let us see to the last of it and we will be on our way." Erik turned and walked back toward the house. He'd try one last time to convince Christine to stay, though he knew of her stubbornness. She was a woman in so many ways, but parts of her were still childlike. Most women would never have wanted to venture out in her condition. Most children begged not to be left behind. She was a combination of both. Erik was certain of one thing however, she was a brave woman, and a strong one…whoever had the courage to love him, truly love HIM, had to be, and then some.

XXXXX

Nicole walked quietly back to the room where her mother was resting. Going in, she closed the door behind her. She glanced over at her mother's resting form. It wasn't a wonder that the poor woman was tired. She'd never wanted medical attention, always brushing off her fatigue whenever Nicole made mention of it. Her mother had worked hard the entire length of her life. It had certainly been full of its share of heartache. She'd buried her husband and that same year, she was uprooted from the only city she'd ever called home.

Nicole watched as her chest moved slowly up and down under the labor of each breath. She knew the doctor's words would have to be respected, if she'd hope to be of any comfort to the woman. Her mother would not be treated as anything less than she'd always been. She was strong willed, no doubt that is what in part had allowed her to survive the many things she'd witnessed thus far in her life.

Walking over to her mother's side she looked down at her. She wanted nothing more than to be a little girl again. Whenever she'd been frightened, her mother had taken her into her arms and sang her a lullaby. Her fears readily eased, and her heart rested. How she relished those days now, recalling them with great fondness.

Nicole hesitated briefly, then carefully lifted the covers and slid in next to her mother. The woman inhaled and unconsciously slid her arm around Nicole. As Nicole lay in her mother's arms in the dark of the room, she began to cry. So much had happened these last days, and so much more was yet to come. She'd always known one day that she would be separated from her mother by the thief of death…she'd simply not expected it come calling so soon.

Each thought that passed through her mind made her tears flow ever more freely. Her mother would never see her marry, would never know the joys of being a grandparent, would never….. She had to stop. The thoughts were far too painful. She'd have to set her mind to making the coming months as pleasant for her mother as possible.

Nicole took the bottom of her sleeve in her hand, wiping the tears from her eyes. This young doctor….Nicole shook her head. What to make of his offer, she did not know. It made perfect sense that he'd need to become familiar with the city, with the people who lived there, to learn of the customs and so forth. But why such a munificent gesture?

Any doctor would be welcomed into the village with open arms, treated as royalty. The village had not been home to a physician since his grandfather had passed, and one was sorely missed. The next village was an hour away by horse, often too far to take someone who was very ill. The young man was pleasant enough. It was merely chance that he shared in heartaches quite similar to her own. He too shan't have wanted to end up in a city so small, so far from civilized society. Regardless of his own want, here he was, keeping his promise to a man who was no longer alive to know if he'd done so or not. Nicole sniffed, a quiet sob stealing its way from her throat.

The doctor's house had sat empty for several years now, awaiting the arrival of family the city had been told. They'd not realized that it meant that a doctor would be reoccupying it. Indeed they'd sent letters off to several universities inquiring if they'd any students who'd take up residence there, but alas, they'd been turned down flatly. All the most promising graduates had their sites on Paris or London, some eager to travel overseas. The city of Chauesser was simply too far removed from what a young graduated would want.

Perhaps it was as the doctor had said, fate. Fate that had brought them all there. The Monsieur, she, her mother, her grandmother, the elder physician, and now this young doctor. Fate…she was beginning to believe in such things…more every day. As she slipped off to sleep she imagined herself once more a little girl, wrapped up in the safety of her mother's arms. She'd had no drugs for her grievings, but a bit of illusion if she'd give in to it…would allow her the same comfort.

XXXXX

DeChagny had retired to the library where he'd selected a book from Raoul's collection. He'd settled into the leather chair by the fire, a glass of sherry in his one hand, the book in the other. He'd not mentioned at dinner that he'd intended to be moving his things back to his house, the proper opportunity had not presented itself. He'd take Raoul aside on the morrow and explain. Perhaps it was best that the information be between he and his son, as it really had no affect one way or the other on the other temporary members of the household. It was quiet, it was peaceful, and he was certainly more than relaxed. He'd enjoy the solitude whilst he could. He rather liked his solitude.

XXXX

Madame Giry had retired to her room for the evening. She'd taken a pot of tea with her, and was going to give some serious time to her reading. The room was most pleasant, and Madeline had brought in an extra oil lamp from another room, so as to make the light more suitable for reading.

She'd slipped into her nightclothes and off to bed she went, book in hand. It was best, she thought, if Raoul and Meg had the evening to themselves. She smiled. Raoul had been a gentleman from the first. She'd never heard of a ring before one for engagement, but perhaps one day it would be the fashion. It was something of a promise for a future ring.

She'd no doubt in her mind that Meg and Raoul were suitable for one another. What she did not know was if they would be able to overcome the many obstacles that lay in their path; most specifically, what Meg knew that Raoul did not. That one thing may prove to be the sticking point for her daughter. Could she really allow Christine to be dead to her forever? She sighed, for she knew not.

Madame Giry looked down at the book in her hand. It was a needed distraction just now. There was little else that was as suitable for a distraction from the cares of life as a good story, and the one she held in her hands now was certainly that. She opened the book to the page where the ivory ribbon marked where she'd last read. "Ahh yes…" she sipped her tea, glancing at the clock. She'd have at least three hours to devote to the story before she'd need to be off to sleep. It pleased her. A night without events was a welcome one, and she would enjoy every minute of it.

XXXXX

Nadir and the Baron had been in the sleigh some half an hour or better. The travel had been thus far a relatively pleasant one. The night was without breeze making the temperatures after the sun set much more mild than the previous evening, though it was still much more frigid than an evening ought be this time of year.

The Baron sat thoughtfully examining the events of the past week. So much unpredictability, so much heartache had descended upon so many that he knew…it seemed as if the world had literally gone quite mad, and he was at the center of it having no ability to affect nor change it, only to mend those who evil's hands had harmed.

He glanced over at Nadir. It was an interesting position that he found himself in this evening. He had only made Nadir's acquaintance not long before, but there were so many things about the man that made him seem quite familiar. Now they were in a united mission to protect a family whose interests were quite diverging.

The Baron wanted to see that no harm befell the boy, nay man that Raoul had become, and Nadir, to protect two women who were dear to his heart because of a family friend. In this way they were much alike. There was a synergy about joined forces making them far stronger than singular efforts. He was grateful that Nadir had agreed to accompany him, for the journey had the potential to be treacherous, though it had proved to be silent to this point.

Nadir smiled at the doctor as they sat across from one another. He could tell that the doctor had much on his mind. "Baron, what weighs heavily on your mind?" The Baron glanced at Nadir. "Present situation aside of course, I can tell that something troubles you."

The Baron sighed, perhaps he was not as skilled at keeping his feelings guarded as he'd thought, and Nadir was something of a perceptive man making his efforts to conceal his concerns all that much more futile. "Nadir, what know you of the physician in the village that treated Meg?"

Nadir swallowed, trying to keep his eyes from widening. He'd expected anything but that. "I know he's rather skilled, much experience under in treating wounds. He's a rather convivial man."

The Baron smiled at him. That really wasn't the answer he'd been looking for. "I see. Know you of what university he attended." The doctor looked down, often a physician would mention such things especially when treating a patient for the first time.

Nadir looked at the snow as it rushed by the sleigh. He knew much about the physician, in fact he'd become rather close to the man in all the time he'd spent with Erik. He doubted that the two physician's would ever cross paths, but something about the doctor's interest was a bit unsettling. Truth was always the best route in such situations, but omission of knowledge was likely the most excellent course in this one. "I don't recall much about the man in that regard. I suppose my mind was more occupied with the other things at the time."

The doctor nodded, it made perfect sense. Situations such as the one that found Meg injured were very intense, one could see how much would be forgotten. "I see."

Nadir looked at the doctor. Curious now as to why he'd be asking about him. "Why do you ask sir?"

The doctor smiled, "it is simply that he'd performed his work with such skill in Meg's regard. The salves he'd given her were from Germany. The suture technique used on Meg's cheek…it just seems he might have more recent training than a doctor in a small village might unless he'd studied rather recently. I must confess that several years ago I attended a compulsory workshop where we'd spent considerable time discussing treatment of lacerations, and a new technique had been discussed….I thought perhaps I might have met the man, this session in particular was rather small, meant truly for surgeons, and it was in fact a preeminent surgeon from the Americas that had given the lecture." The doctor looked out at the snow himself, he could hardly confess to Nadir that he was a bit jealous of the skill with which Meg had been treated.

Nadir could honestly say that he knew nothing of it, though he had to admit that would be quite a coincidence, he'd have to ask Erik's physician when next he saw him. "I suppose the possibility is plausible. Perhaps when next I visit Meg's relatives I can inquire on my way through if you like."

The doctor was shaking his head. "No, no, you need to go to no trouble on my account, it was but a bit of curiosity really. I do say that I am grateful for how he'd treated the young girl. She should have but a faint scar on her cheek, barely noticeable as long as she's been religious about applying her salves." The doctor's thoughts wandered back to Meg and Raoul. How he wished the sleigh would carry them faster to DeChagny's. He could only hope that he would find them quite well.

XXXXXX

The boy maintained a respectable distance. It had taken him no time at all to secure the location to which he desired to travel. The drunkards at the tavern across from the Opera House had been most helpful. "The sleigh that's just leavin' now, that's where they're headed, too bad you missed 'em you'd have been able to save yourself the trip." The boy chuckled. He rather doubted they'd have welcomed him into the sleigh.

The City of Paris was a strange one. You could merely spin a small yarn about delivering a package, and the citizens would offer you anything in terms of information. Too trusting…far too trusting. His father had always told him that one could rely upon one thing, that people, the masses, were far too naïve for their own good. They trusted when there was no basis for trust. They'd offer you a meal and a room in their house, where you could find out everything you wanted to know before you plundered their household and left them for dead. Even worse, they'd tell you anything you inquired about their neighbor, or especially about the aristocracy.

They reveled in torrid gossip of them, or pretended they knew them intimately if you seemed you did not. Oh what folly, to let one's own ego cost you that which you held most dear. "Avoid discussions of money or religion, and they will deliver the world to your feet." He heard his father's words. How very true they had proven to be.

The night was calm, making following the sleigh a bit more thorny. He'd have to follow from a greater distance so as not to be detected. Darkness had fallen just an hour or so before, providing assistance. Since he traveled by lone horse he'd not be as easy to find. He would tie up his horse in the woods that would likely lay not far off from Raoul's house. Then he would wait for the house to slumber before he would venture in. He would have to be stealthy, he would have to be cautious. He knew that this last venture was likely to be his last, whether or not he escaped with his life would be in fate's hands. For now all he sought was revenge, indeed it was the very thing that kept him warm now, having lost all else, he could focus on nothing more. He followed the sleigh at distance, something like a wolf does as it stalks his unknowing prey.

XXXXX

The woman stood alone in the hallway. She could not, nay would not go alone. She looked down at the envelope. What would be the harm if it were delivered in the morning? She knew not, though he'd been rather adamant about it's delivery.

She sighed, who….who would accompany her? She shook her head. She knew of one man, one man alone who feared nothing, he would do it…but not without a favor. No one wished to be indebted to the man, for his favors usually came at the most inopportune time or manner. He wasn't always an honest man, nor was he one that anyone associated with by choice. Only when one needed something that none other would provide did he have the pleasure of company. She shook her head again as she headed toward his workshop.

The man's reputation was one he well deserved. His task had always been to produce the instruments of torture or injury. Props true, but they were based on research of ancient methods from the periods of the Opera house productions. He lived in the lowest inhabited bowels of the Opera House, only venturing out when his services were needed.

The woman shuddered. She feared traveling down to ask this favor of him….nearly as much as she feared traveling to LeMortem street…almost. She closed her eyes as she turned the hall and began her travels down the staircase that led to but one location. Why, oh why had this task fallen upon her, she'd quite simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, or it might well have been someone else. She could feel the cool breezes flowing up under her skirt as she descended. It was as if the extra chill prepared those who ventured there for what they were about to see, for pleasant was neither the place nor the person, and a shudder in this case served one well.

XXXXX

Raoul sat in the divan next to Meg. He'd been sharing with her of stories from his grandfather's past. She'd become rather intrigued after the travel there that very afternoon, and all that she'd observed on their sleigh ride.

Meg kept glancing at the door to her room that lay quite open. It was necessary, for propriety's sake she knew. She and Raoul would be thankful in the end that they'd done it, but for now it seemed like a cruel intrusion into a private world between two people who'd already been through much more together than some who were married.

Meg watched Raoul as he became rather animated. The features of his face were even more pronounced in the glow of the fire. The chiseled outline of his jaw, his noble brow, his certain gaze. He was most decidedly a handsome man. Meg mused, it was quite obvious he had great admiration for his grandfather, almost so much so that one could quite easily have imagined that he'd wished his grandfather had been his father.

"This story I hold with particular fondness, it gives the account of the boat, you remember the one we saw that was wedged in the trees?"

Meg nodded as she settled in beneath the blanket he'd laid across her lap. He held her right hand. Caressing it with his thumb as he told the story using his other hand to add embellishment with gesticulations.

"He and his clan of friends," Raoul looked at Meg with a smirk in his eye, "they'd taken the boat from one of the young man's father's barn. They'd done so quite without permission, hoping to spend the day fishing in the pond not far from the place we sat in this very afternoon. The boys had been given the task of clearing brush built up from the branches that had fallen during the previous winter. It was spring of the year, and the last thing the young men had wanted to do was work the entire day. They'd reasoned that they could spend the morning fishing and then work doubly hard that afternoon gathering branches and taking them back in the wagon."

Raoul smiled at Meg. No doubt his grandfather had been a bit mischievous in this particular adventure, or Raoul would not have that twinkle in his eye as he recanted the story. "My grandfather you see, it was his property that had been the source of the excuse for the young lads. The father's had all conversed of it, and all had agreed that it would be time well spent, seeing as how their efforts could easily be measured by the height of the wagon when they returned that afternoon. A rather large lunch basket had been prepared, and the boys departed with serious looks on their faces, to which their father's took great pride. Perhaps the young boys were growing up a bit after all."

Raoul repositioned himself, looking more directly at Meg. No doubt this was his favorite part. "My grandfather had driven the horse in the general direction of the woods. One of the other boys served as a lookout, and when he could no longer see the house, the wagon took a rather abrupt turn toward the other boy's farm. You see, entire families had traveled to my grandfather's house, so he was certain that save the maids, they would be able to travel undetected. They'd load the boat and be on their way. Well, once they'd put the boat on the wagon they'd headed off toward the lake. The day was yet early, and they'd thought themselves to at have at the very least three hours of undisturbed peace on the placid pond. It was not long before the boys found themselves at the water's edge, pushing the boat into the water. They celebrated in their efforts, splashing about, which of course, is quite counterproductive when one plans to fish."

Raoul was smiling at Meg. "They'd been out in the center of the pond for a few minutes only when they began to paddle on towards the small quiet part of the pond, where they knew from previous experience the largest fish tended to hide. Now they'd not traveled the pond from side before, so it came as something of a surprise when they heard a rather large noise, and suddenly the boat began to take on water. They began to bale water but it was no use. A rather large hole had been ripped in the bottom, by what, they'd not find out until later. Soon they found themselves swimming and scrambling to the shore, no sign of the boat above water was to be seen. The boys were vexed as to what to do. How would one explain that a boat had gone quite missing? They eventually decided to go about gathering wood and clearing the brush, in hopes that an epiphany would come to them. Sadly it did not. Soon the sun was lowering in the sky, hailing the end of the afternoon. The boys hauled in the rather high load of brush. The fathers seeing them from a distance were quite pleased, they'd been right about the boys, they were becoming men." Raoul smiled at Meg, "or so they'd thought!" He chuckled. "When my grandfather shared this story with me, he still had a rather contrite look on his face, all those years later."

Raoul smiled again, rubbing his thumb along the back of Meg's hand. An affectionate touch that Meg had come to relish, "It was not until the boys arrived in the yard that the fathers noticed the rather guilty looks they had on their faces. My grandfather had taken the burden upon himself to be the bearer of the news. After the confession, the boys were sent to chop wood, a full load for each, no matter how dark the night became. The fathers took up the wagon after it was unloaded, and headed off for the woods. Several hours later they returned, finding that the boys had been most obedient, large stacks of wood next to each boy. The fathers never said a word, and no boat was in the back of the wagon. Nothing more was said of it that night. The families shared dinner together as though nothing happened, though the boys remained uncharacteristically silent throughout the meal, a pleasant deviation for the others at the table!" Raoul smiled at Meg, then glanced into the fire.

Meg sat silently waiting for Raoul to continue. When he did not, she inquired, "so what happened, what became of the boat?" Raoul glanced at her out of the corner of his eye mischievously.

"My grandfather said that it was over a week before the boys were allowed to be in one another's company. The fathers had said not a word, but had given each an extra portion of chores to do to remind them of their deed. It wasn't until the next Saturday when the families gathered again, that they were permitted to roam about. Their curiosity getting the better of them they wandered back down toward the pond. Just after they crossed the tree line they realized why the boat had not been returned. There, at their typical meeting place before venturing into the woods was the boat, wedged into the trees just as you saw it when we passed. Later that evening when all the families had left, my grandfather went to his father, he simply had to know. It was then that his father taught him an object lesson. He told him that the boat was to serve as a reminder of what could happen when one was disobedient. The boat had been ripped open by a rather large tree that had been put in that part of the pond years before. The tree, along with several others and a rather large group of fieldstones had been put there by the boy's father's. There had been a natural whirlpool there. That very group of friends had lost one of their own to it on a summer afternoon. They'd been sent out by their fathers to do some sort of work or another and had decided instead to spend the afternoon swimming. Because of their disobedience, their friend had drowned, being pulled under by the current and they'd not been able to save him. They'd spent the remainder of the summer mourning his loss, and throwing every object they could find in the pond to fill the spot where the boy had gone down. Though the whirlpool eventually ceased to exist, the sting of their memory did not. Nothing they could do would ever relieve the burden of their disobedience. My grandfather understood then why the boat had been wedged in the trees. It was to serve as a constant reminder of what had happened, and what could happen if one chose to be disobedient. My grandfather and his friends had vowed never to remove the boat, it would be their reminder. The boys did grow up in a single afternoon. They never looked at their play in the same way. Perhaps the lessons of their fathers had proven to be most poignant."

Meg stared at Raoul. No doubt this story had meant a great deal to him. Not only because he could imagine his grandfather traveling those woods, waging his mischief with his friends, but also because he respected the lesson his grandfather taught him. No doubt there would be many more. Meg closed her eyes. She could almost picture it. Raoul sharing this story with their children. Their great-grandfather's life would becomes something of a legend for them, and they'd have the privilege of wandering the very woods where he had as a young boy.

Raoul sighed, patting Meg's hand. "Do you grow tired of my stories?"

Meg smiled, smoothing her hand over his, "never, I could listen to the stories all evening. It helps me to understand a man who meant a great deal to you, whom I will never meet. He lives on in your spirit Raoul."

Raoul smiled at her, "indeed he does. He was a most special man." Raoul's head spun to the side. He heard the dogs in the yard making quite a commotion. "Whoever could that be?" It had been long enough that he assumed the sleigh driver to have stayed in the city with Nadir. Raoul looked outside, he could see nothing, but he knew that the animals had. "Meg, I shall be but a minute."

Meg's face changed to a look of concern. "what is it Raoul?"

He shook his head, "I do not know, I shall check." He stood moving toward the door, turning to look at Meg. "Perhaps you should join your mother in her room…and do stay away from the windows won't you." More of a gentle order than a question.

He looked at her, beckoning her to rise. She did, joining him in the door. He leaned down placing a tender kiss on her cheek. "Do not worry Meg, it is likely nothing." He escorted her to Madame Giry's room, placing a gentle rap on the door before he descended the servant's stairs in the rear of the house.

Madame Giry called out, "come in."

Meg entered going immediately over to her mother's bed pulling up the covers and climbing in without invitation.

"Whatever is it Meg, did you and Raoul quarrel?" Posing the question though she doubted its veracity.

"We don't know mother, Raoul heard something, he's gone to check." Meg slid over next to her mother.

"Shhhh…Meg, it is alright, I'm sure it's just the wind."

**Author's Notes**:

**Phantomsrogue**: Thank you for the compliment on the chapter. I am never quite sure how the Phamily will warm to the addition of new characters, especially ones that serve only a small perfunctory purpose. Some we get quite attached to, such as Sara, and then they are gone. We will see a few more popping up here and there for a chapter or two.

It is fun to hear that everyone is rooting for Nadir to make a swift end to the Crawling boy himself, thus sparing Erik and encounter…we have all grown rather protective of our darling Phantom haven't we! LOL! We have become something like a den full of mother bears protecting a pair of cubs named Erik and Christine! Now our poor Nicole…she has had her share of heartbreak hasn't the poor dear! I imagined her crawling into the warmth of her mother's arms, wondering what in the world would have brought her here, under such circumstances to such a place….perhaps we can imagine for her what her future might hold, and it might very well be something much more than one could ever have imagined.

Now on to your comments about the "classics" most often I agree that the classic version of any production is so much better than any that follow, with a several notable exceptions: 'Phantom of the Opera' of course, 'Sabrina', 'Parent Trap'. I like the re-makes much better than the originals for those. As for holiday movies, I am a sucker for 'Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer'. I have to watch it every holiday, oh that and 'Miracle on 34th Street'. I agree with your opinion of the new 'Grinch' remake, it was not good at all in my opinion.

Yes, moving offices is not much fun. I've had the same one now for a few years, thankfully. When we moved the last time it was quite a big production as we were moving into a brand-new building which I helped design, so it was fun, yet very stressful at the same time. I don't envy the work you have ahead of you!

I shall try to find the e-mail address you suggest! Yes 'The Darker Side' will take shape. The difficult part of plotting the chapters out in advance is that sometimes you have an inspiration while penning one chapter, that affects the next…I tend to be a bit fluid in that regard. I cannot tell you how many times I've changed my mind about something as I was writing and the spirit of the story moved me.

Bon Soir!

**Nordygirl**: I loved your song, it is funny, I can hear the music in my head as I'm reading it! LOL! Now, as for your suggestion that there should be an anti-critic society out there, I completely agree! The people who are so "educated" in the movie industry simply do not know what a movie-goer is interested in seeing. What 'they' think is wonderful, is usually trash, and visa-versa. I for one usually hate the movies that the critics like. In fact if a critic says its one of the best they've seen, I can almost always bet I'm not going to like it. I do think that the industry has lost touch with what people really want. We want things that are a bit mysterious, fun, exciting, a good love story, and the like. They far too often put in junk, and I do mean junk, that people don't want to see, but they have to tolerate it simply because they want to see the other parts of the movie. I think we should be able to walk away from a movie and feel good about it, unless of course it is based on a true story, and those often don't have the most uplifting endings. But as far as fiction goes, they need to get back to what people really want, because I think they would see those box-office numbers rise if people could feel like they could go to the show and actually enjoy it. Steps down from soap box Hmmmm….

I think I might have a word for you to describe POTO…. Flawlessness…and it's already a word! Or for a new word how about …. Quintessentialfection! LOL!

Have a great weekend!

**Phantomfan13:** Do not worry my dear, there is much yet to be done for this family. An ending is not near. I am happy to see that you are keeping up with our little story!

Have a great time at 'Harry Potter', I know there are so many out there who have been simply dying to see it!

Phantomphorever: It is good to hear from you my dear! I too wonder of Erik's reaction to being back in the Opera House, back in that lair yet again. So much has changed in his life, but so much of his life has not changed inside of him. I do hope that he can find some sort of peace with it.

Do not be sorry about your comments on the movie. I think you would find that there are many in our Phamily who share the same sentiments! I for one, am glad to hear that there are others out there who examine different scenes of the movie like I do. I agree about the kisses. I can only imagine the heartache both of them had at that very moment. It was something that both of them longed for on so many levels…it said so much about their relationships…and the truest form, the purest form of love, that he had to let her go for her own good, NOT because he thought she wanted Raoul more than him, but because HE (Erik) wanted her to have the life he never thought he could provide for her. But there is a moment of intense love in that scene, I agree with you completely. Now, I have to admit that tonight when I finally get home from work, I am going to pop in POTO and look at the scene with the ring. I never noticed (hard to believe!) that she pushed the ring back on before she took it off…I will be looking for it…that will make it all that much-more bittersweet. Sniff Then, the look on Erik's face, that momentary glimmer of hope, that was quickly dashed, when she'd come back, he thinking that maybe she had chosen him….it was heartbreaking…. Now, as for the music box, I think Raoul gave it to her as a parting gift, as you said, acknowledging that she had always loved the Phantom, though she had shared her life with Raoul. Then for him to find the ring and the rose there, he realized then that the Phantom had been there as well, and that he had loved her all those years….there was a look of resignation on Raoul's face as he realized he couldn't begrudge the Phantom the right to put something there…it was almost as though in returning the ring, Erik was acknowledging that he knew she had loved both men. Sort of complicated, but I think you know what I mean.

Have a great weekend…and keep up the good work!

**SilverRains187**: Welcome to the Phamily! It is quite a commitment to have come this far in the story! We are always happy to welcome new members into the fold! If you've come this far, it is obvious that you are as crazy for the idea of Erik and Christine being together as the rest of us! LOL! Thank you for the compliment on the story…I am so very happy to have been able to share this dream with others….it warms my heart beyond belief…

Now, as has become tradition for our Phamily…we simply must know how you've come to your tag name. I would have guessed something equestrian, if you'd spelled your name with reins instead of rains, and the number, I've come to find that the numbers usually represent something very special to the person themselves. Hmmmm…silverrains187…. You are either very whimsical, and the thought of silvery rain gives you a giddy feeling as you imagine it pattering to the ground in a fairy story….or perhaps you are someone who works with the metal…perhaps has a fascination with making jewelry…. I have to admit I'm not terribly good at guessing…just a few things that came to mind! Now, if you are willing, please do share with your new Phamily!


	153. Sleighs and Slayers

**Chapter 153 Sleighs and Slays**

Erik had settled Christine into the sleigh, brushing a kiss along her cheek. Moving back out he reassured her, "I shall be but a moment my dear, I've one last thing to tend to."

Erik made his way back to the house. The staff were busy cleaning up from the quick preparations that had just taken place. He glanced around the room, he was looking for someone in particular. She was not there. He sighed, a hint of irritation quite obvious. He turned around going out into the hall. Misty was just coming back down, a fresh white linen cloth in her hand.

"Monsieur?" She said curtseying as Erik approached.

"May I address you by your first name?" Misty nodded. "Then Misty, I've a task to ask of you. Under normal circumstances I'd not ask a lady, this request would have befallen Erphan to care for, but as he will be accompanying Elizabeth and I, I've no others to ask who I feel would be well suited for the task."

Misty looked at him with a curiosity in her eye. "I've need for someone to take this," he handed her a bound leather pouch with a note affixed, "to the undertaker in Chauesser. It is not be delivered until the day after tomorrow, but it will need to be there by that day, as I've made a promise to see to taking care of certain expenses."

Misty wasn't entirely certain of what he spoke, but she'd not question it. She'd not known, nor had any of the household, what had happened in Chauesser while the master was gone. "Monsieur, I shall do as you bid me." Misty nodded her head, keeping it lowered out of respect.

"Child, lift your eyes." Misty looked back up at him, his handsomeness was a bit overwhelming….his presence was a bit unnerving. Erik sighed, looking this way and that before he continued. "Elizabeth assures me that you are someone with whom I can be most frank and trust that you shall keep what I say in the strictest of confidence." Erik looked at her for affirmation.

Misty nodded, "indeed sir, whatever you ask."

Erik smiled. "When in Chauesser you may hear of many things in regard to my most recent visit to the village. You may learn of the woman's death, of my finding her, and more troubling still of the city's need to pay honor to me where none is due."

Misty was confused though she'd not interrupt him.

"Misty, it is true that I did find the woman, and that I'd reunited her with her family before she died, but it was not a heroic act as some in the city now believe. I did what any decent man should have been willing to do and nothing more. To pay honor to anyone who did only what anyone ought, is but an insult to those who are truly heros. My wish is for you not to share any information with those in the city. I neither want or have need for anyone to be snooping about in my business or that of my household. If you are asked of my whereabouts simply tell them that I had business in a distant place, and nothing more. I shall further ask you not to share any of this with the remainder of the household. I should like very much to share this with them myself upon our return if it becomes necessary." Erik looked down at her. "Do you feel you can honor this request?"

Misty nodded. "Am I to travel there alone Monsieur?"

Erik hadn't thought of that. He sighed. "I shall trust you to select one member from the remainder of the staff to be an escort to you. For your safety, it should be a gentleman. Travel only to the undertaker's office and no where else, lest you subject yourself to an inquisition. Is that understood?"

Misty nodded. "I shall do as you ask sir." Erik nodded and turned to leave. "Sir, could you tarry but a moment?" Erik nodded his head, though he'd no idea what it was that he'd have to wait for. Misty disappeared into the kitchen coming back out with something wrapped in the linen. She handed it to Erik with a smile.

"What is this?" Erik inquired looking down at the odd shaped package.

"It is the remainder of the pastry sir. I knew you shan't want to leave it behind."

Erik smiled at her. She was indeed as thoughtful as Christine had said. He smiled at the girl and departed.

Misty watched as he walked out to the sleigh, holding the small bundle in his arms as tenderly as if it were a newborn babe. She looked down at the leather in her hand. Now, the task of choosing someone she'd trust to accompany her. She would think of something, spin some yarn, telling the remainder of the staff why she'd be off to Chauesser. Something plausible, something that would raise little suspicion. She'd have to consider her actions carefully. There was no sleigh save the single one that was used for recreational purposes, and that seemed a bit silly to pull behind a horse into the city, but there may be little choice in the morning.

XXX

Christine heard Erik giving instructions to the staff who were to remain behind. It was but a few moments before the door on the side of the sleigh opened and Erik climbed in to join her. The inside of the carriage was quite comfortable at present, though both knew it would not last for many hours.

Erik looked down at Christine. "I feel obligated to ask you but one last time if you'd reconsider, I shan't be gone but a day, two at most Christine."

She didn't even look away before she responded. "Wherever you go my love, I shall go with you, even to the grave."

Erik's eyes showed his pleading disappointment. He'd made a promise he had to keep though his heart broke for the keeping of it. He but nodded at her, and reached up rapping his knuckles on the roof. Though he'd hoped she reconsider, he knew she shan't. The sleigh lurched forward, and they were off.

Christine smiled at Erik, nestling into the security of his arms. "What is this?" She said, lifting the white bundle from beneath his cape.

Erik smiled, "why that is what remains of the pastry my love." He kissed her forehead. "Why did you not tell me you'd prepared it?"

Christine smiled, running her arms around his waist. "I suppose it was because when I laid eyes on you, it was the farthest thing from my mind."

Erik closed his eyes, wrapping his arms protectively around her. She was so much more than he'd ever dreamed of, so much more. "It was perfect my dear, simply perfect." He rubbed her shoulder. His brow furrowed a bit, looking down at Christine who was nestled ever so comfortably in his arms. "Did you not…did you and your father…perhaps your governess…"

Christine rubbed her cheek along his chest. "No, there was no time. I was so young when my father died, they'd never had time to show me. I'm afraid there are a great many things that remained untaught, as there was always the promise of the future years to learn such things. Then, when I arrived at the Opera House, there was no opportunity there for such things. I did sneak into the kitchen while the cooks toiled, often watching from the pantry unbeknownst, but never had I even dabbled in it."

Erik sighed. While he'd had to admit his culinary skills were a bit rudimentary, he'd even prepared a few things, though not many. It had mostly been when he was in Persia, there he and Nadir had access to a great many things, not the least of which was the use of a palatial kitchen, at least for a time, before it turned from kitchen to butcher shop… Erik shook his head. His pulse quickened, his breathing grew shallow, the number of breaths increased. He blinked, he had to forget, had to forget.

"Whatever is it Erik?" Christine looked up at him. "Do you worry what we might find when we arrive in Paris?"

Erik blinked several more times, trying to clear the images that had been flashing before them. "Yes….I worry for what we might find." He leaned over kissing her forehead. "Rest now my dear, rest while it is yet warm inside, for it shan't be long before it cools, making a peaceful rest all but impossible."

She nodded, pushing at Erik's side just slightly. "Here, let us recline just a bit," she said as she carefully guided Erik's back into the comfort of the pile of horse blankets that had been placed to the side of him. "Let us both rest while we can."

Erik smiled at Christine, holding her in his lap. He would not recline, he had need to be ready for anything, and whatever it might be, it would not find him sleeping, not on his watch.

Soon Christine had drifted off to sleep. The ride, Erik was quite impressed, had been very smooth, almost as if they were passing over a tranquil pond in a flat-bottomed boat.

Erphan had been following the landmarks very carefully as Erik had instructed him. He could hear Erphan explaining in near verbatim detail, all that Erik had conveyed to him earlier. He smiled. The young man was not content to simply learn, he had to teach; a good quality, Erik thought to himself. He leaned his head back against the cushion of the blanket. Perhaps he would but close his eyes for a moment. His feet firmly planted on the floor of the sleigh, his sword tucked just below his feet, and Christine in his arms. He would just close his eyes, for a moment.

The sleigh jerked just a bit and Erik felt himself being pushed back just slightly against the back of the seat. There was no doubt in his mind that they were climbing something, but no, it surely couldn't be. He looked down at the small cast-iron pot that had warmed the sleigh, lifting the lid, coughing just slightly from the smoke that escaped, the coals that had glowed red hot, now were in a pile of ashen gray. Little if any life left in them, though the side of the pot was still warm to the touch.

He slipped his pocket watch out from beneath his cloak. They'd traveled for nearly three hours…three hours of uninterrupted peace. It was far better than he'd expected. He'd not thought they'd travel that distance without event, but he was indeed grateful that they had. If his estimates were correct, and Erphan had traveled as he'd been instructed, they'd likely be on the outskirts of Paris in just over an hour.

Erik looked down at Christine. Though she'd managed to turn herself around in his arms, she was still resting peacefully. He kissed her forehead. "Thank you." He said quietly looking up at the roof of the sleigh. He was thankful for a great many things, not the least of which was that the trip had proven to be quiet thus far, and that she had rested.

Erik sighed. He was thankful on his own account, the unexpected sleep that had seized him had also rescued him from what he was certain would have been hours of lamenting, and reflecting on something he'd no desire to dwell on. He wanted to close his eyes again, but he could not. He leaned his head back once more, repositioning his feet. He stared at the roof of the sleigh.

Try though he might, something in his mind wandered to the very thoughts he'd thought he'd successfully dodged in his slumber. He began to wonder, how evil had a soul been that could ever have requested, nay thought of such treachery? How depraved, despicable, immoral, horrid was a person to the core that they could craft in their mind things that were so vile? Why had he allowed himself to become involved with the likes of such a house? How had it been that he and Nadir had become so steeped in it that though it grew more and more abominable with each passing day, they could not see it for the wickedness that it was?

Erik's gaze grew stony, so much so, he could not even blink. His pulse quickened once more, he could hear the man pleading, pleading for his life….that voice, that wicked voice laughing, taunting, refusing him relief…the crack of a whip, the scream. Erik shook, it took over his entire body, he gasped, and then jerked himself into a stiff seated position. He immediately looked down, Christine was rubbing at her eyes.

"Erik, what is it, what have they seen, are we…"

Erik was soothing her, "go back to sleep my dear, it was merely me, it has been a long ride, I grow stiff from time to time. Do go back to sleep, we are more than an hour off yet, rest." Christine nestled herself back into his arms.

Erik sighed, he could hardly tell her. Not with all she had on her mind now.

XXXXX

Raoul traveled down the stairs with exacting swiftness. He went to the door that lay at the end of the hall leading out to the veranda facing the carriage house. He peered out the door carefully, the sentry was in place as he'd requested, and Raoul could see that a second was on his way from the carriage house to join him, gun slung over his shoulder, he affixed his cloak.

Raoul scanned all he could see, venturing out when the second man was on the veranda. The dogs were still barking somewhat insistently. "Have you seen anything sir?"

The man turned his head toward Raoul to speak but did not make eye contact. He had his eye trained in the direction of the dogs, and he shan't look away not even for a moment. That was indeed the very direction in which he and his men had traveled at Raoul's behest not many days before to check on the nesting spot Raoul had found by the felled tree. If it had been more than a transient, something more than a coincidence, then he'd want to be ready for it.

"Vicomte, so far the night has been silent and clear, nary a cloud, nor breeze to speak of."

Raoul's eyes were just beginning to adjust to the lack of light. He squinted staring in the same general direction. "You've no indication of what it might be?" Raoul said.

The man replied in a hushed voice, "Vicomte, I've none, though I have my suspicions."

Raoul looked at the man, his face was cast with an eerie dark grey-blue, a miniscule orange twinkle in his eye. It was the peculiar appearance of a man's face lit by nothing more than the moon as it shone brightly off the snow.

"And what of these suspicions?" Raoul said, as his breath rose in a frosty vapor.

"Vicomte, I've traveled much by night, having been as you know, a courier for the Royal Guard. When there has been a snow, and the moon is shining in all its fullness, as it does tonight, especially on the heels of a storm…"

Raoul interrupted, "the hunt. Do you think it could be wolves? We've not seen the likes of them for some years sir."

The man nodded. "It is possible. Great storms such as this one push animals into places they might not normally frequent. That would certainly be a plausible explanation for the ferocity with which the dogs respond."

Raoul breathed a slight sigh, if that were all it was, he would be much relieved. Perhaps he'd overreacted, frightened Meg for no reason.

The men stood shoulder to shoulder on the veranda, simply watching. And then they saw it, first one, then several more. They were indeed wolves, a number of them. The scene in front of the carriage house turned abruptly ugly. Soon the five dogs Raoul had as guards for his property were falling victim to the dozen or more wolves that swarmed the yard.

The carriage house came to life, lamps being lit in every window. Men were coming out with shovels trying to defend the animals who'd begun to back themselves up against the carriage house for some means of defense. There was gnashing of teeth, yelps, and the sound of ripping flesh. It was quite obvious that it would be a blood bath if no one intervened. One thing was certain, if the wolves found even a slight victory on the grounds that night, they would be back night after night until the last of their hungers had been satisfied.

The man standing next to Raoul lifted his gun, firing a single shot in the air. The men near the carriage house quickly retreated indoors. The two men, standing on either side of Raoul lifted their guns taking aim at the wolves who had pinned a dog on the ground. There was a click, a snap, and two thunderous shots rung out in unison, felling two of the wolves with killing strikes. The men quickly reloaded taking down just three more of the pack before they scattered off into the woods.

Slowly the men came from the carriage house. There the pristine white of the ground that had been covered by the spring snow was stained a deep and splattered blood red. The men walked out nudging each wolf with their boots to make certain they were dead. The youngest men wandered over to the two dogs that lay on the ground. Both were battered and one was missing the top of his ear, the other was bleeding profusely from a tear in his nose, and both were whimpering as the other three circled around them, prancing worriedly as they sniffed at them.

The dogs had all come from the same litter. They were the direct descendants of the pedigreed female pup that Raoul's mother had given him the year before she passed. She'd hoped she'd be a good companion for Raoul as he grew, and indeed she had been.

The young men went about picking up the dogs, they whimpering and wining in protest as they carried them into the carriage house to tend to their wounds. Three of the other men went about setting up a fire a ways off from the carriage house. They'd give the beasts no reason to want to return, for even they did not object to eating their own.

Raoul watched, a sickened look on his face as the men tossed the felled beasts into the fire. He'd never had want to take the life from a beast in such a way, but he knew that there had been little choice.

XXXX

Meg and Madame Giry had removed themselves from her bed, and now found themselves cowering with blankets thrown round their shoulders in the small hall that separated the room Madame Giry occupied, and the one left vacant by Nadir's absence.

"It will be alright Meg, do not worry, I'm sure there is good reason for it, do not worry."

Meg had become quite inconsolable. The gun shots brought back such terror, such memories of an event that she'd been trying to forget. Raoul had gone down, and not since returned, though she'd not heard any screaming, she worried still. She rocked back and forth, her forearms grasped tightly about her knees. She could not focus on anything, her mind was simply at odds. Even her mother's touch seemed foreign to her.

Madame Giry sat with her hand on Meg's shoulder until she heard the door to her room open.

"Meg?" Came Raoul's voice. She stood, stumbling out of the closet tangled in the blankets. Raoul quickly coming to her aide.

"Raoul, whatever happened?"

"Meg," he embraced her as she nearly leapt into his arms. "Do not worry Meg, all is well." He glanced around the room, "where is your mother?"

Madame Giry walked out of the hallway, draping the blankets she'd been folding over her arm.

"Mother, are you alright?" Madame Giry nodded at Raoul, "yes, though I must say that the gun shots we heard were a bit unsettling for Meg."

Raoul turned to her once more, pulling her to him, putting her head in the crook of his neck, massaging her shoulders with his hands. He'd forgotten of Meg's fears, in the heat of the moment. "My dearest Meg, I am sorry to have frightened you," he lead her over to her mother, taking both women by the hand, then leading them over to the divan by the fire.

"You see with the full moon, a pack of wolves wandered into the woods, having found their way then down into the yard by the carriage house. I am quite afraid that they'd taken much interest in the five Labradors."

Meg's face blanked, "pray do not tell me that they…"

Raoul was shaking his head, "none were killed, but two were injured, the men in the carriage house are tending to them now."

Madame Giry walked to the window of her room. Though she could not see it directly, she recognized the orange glow that grew behind the house. "And the fire Raoul?"

He turned to Meg, then glanced at Madame Giry. "We'd managed to take down five of them, though there were considerably more. They'll not be buried, the scent of the dead would only further encourage their return. Though it is not favorable, we shall have to corral the dogs for a few nights, keeping watch for more until we are certain they've moved on. We cannot risk having them finding this a advantageous place to hunt. In the late spring we've lambs arriving, and several of our horses will also be due."

Raoul looked at Meg and then at Madame Giry. "I am dreadfully sorry to have caused you distress. Perhaps I am a bit jumpy with all that has gone on these last months, my apologies to you both."

Madame Giry startled as she heard a rap on the door. In came Madeline, a fresh pot of tea, three cups and some short breads. She sat them on the table by the fire.

"Vicomte, man say all right now. He take care, wolves gone now." She nodded her head politely, and then retrieved Madame Giry's teapot that had now grown cold.

Raoul stood, walking over to it as Madeline closed the door behind her. "Ladies, let us have a cup of tea, calm ourselves, then I shall escort Meg back to her room, so we might all take in some much needed rest." Madame Giry and Meg joined him.

Madame Giry watched as Raoul carefully attended each cup, doctoring it the way the ladies preferred before handing the cups to each of them.

Meg could not even look up. It was as if her gaze was fixed on a certain spot on the floor, and could not be moved. Before the events of the night she'd had a difficult enough time imagining sleeping in that room without Raoul. She could barely imagine it now. She took the cup from him, silently supping at it.

Madame Giry and Raoul looked at one another. The incident had frightened them, no doubt of it, but what they could not imagine was how it gripped Meg. She'd had a bit more to deal with than they.

The three sat in utter silence as they sipped their tea. Perhaps they would sit there for a long while, at the very least until Meg felt comfortable enough to look up at them for anything more than a fleeting glance. They'd not leave her side until she did.

XXXX

The sleigh driver had whipped at the horses wildly. The sleigh was moving at a harrowing speed across the firm surface of the crusted snow. He and the occupants of the sleigh, had heard the gunshots ring out. Now fearing the worst the men sat looking at each other as the sleigh tossed them about, bumping along on the drifts behind the horses.

Nadir's eyes were as wide as the doctor's. "We've only the element of surprise for the first moment we arrive, after that, we've nothing more that we can do but defend ourselves unless he's already been taken down." Nadir said to the doctor. He had handed him a gun.

The doctor had no wish to use the gun, though he did know how. The men heard the horses rear up a screeching whinny before they heard what was a rushing sound on either side of the sleigh and just as quickly it was gone.

Nadir leaned forward, rapping on the back of the driver's seat. "Sir?", the man leaned back looking over his shoulder, "wolves." Nadir's blood ran cold. He had far more encounters with wolves than he'd ever hoped to have. Now all he could wish for is that they'd not circle around and follow them.

The sleigh driver whipped at the horses' hind quarters once more, and added surge of power coming from the beasts as much from the fear as the strike. They'd all rest much easier once they'd found their way to the carriage house. It would be in sight in but a few minutes, and then they would know. Know what had caused the shots that rang out so clearly on that very quiet night.

XXXX

He too had heard the gun shots. Not knowing what it might be he allowed a further distance to grow between he and the men traveling on the sleigh. He might have no hope of seeing to his business this night if there was trouble brewing ahead. Nothing drew attention quite like a melee, and he shan't know until he was close enough to observe what he'd heard. Then he'd decide if the strike would be this night, or would be delayed but another evening. He'd wait if he'd need to, but it was the very last that he'd want to do just now.

**Author's Notes:**

**Dear Faithfuls**: It is indeed very good to be back. I did have a chance to pen a few more chapters, a few a bit longer than usual. I hope that you will approve! There are changes coming for all concerned, and they will lead us on the next leg of our journey. Thank you for staying with our Phamily!

**Phantomsrogue**: First and foremost my deepest apology. I shall see to returning that e-mail, though the value of my word is now somewhat diminished in light of my not returning your message prior to my departure as promised.

Yes, Raoul is in a bit of a quandary, though you might find that there are other dangers lurking out there beyond Crawlings! Poor Meg, I can only imagine how frightened she is, and now with Raoul not standing guard in her room, she might be more frightened than ever!

**Nordygirl**: Again, another excellent song. I could just see Depp with his purple wild-and-crazy eyes singing that song, of course, backed up by the oompa loompas! Yikes! I hope you enjoyed this most recent chapter!

**Silverrain187**: Thank you for that most wonderful explanation of your tag name. It makes perfect sense to me. The story, just so you know, is set for 1870, a very tumultuous year in the city of Paris. I've often wondered if LaRue chose that year purposely because of it. There are many, many, stories based on those late 1800's in Paris because of the events that were going on then. I knew there was some significance to the number…there always is! The thoughts of silver, rain, and tears, it is quite poetic, and that always tugs at my heart…alas, it was a most excellent choice for you. I do thank you for working your way through all of the chapters up to this point. It is most certainly an undertaking. I hope you enjoy this most recent installment!

**LadyWinifred**: Trouble coming indeed. I don't think any of imagined that this would be an easy road. When a family, no, a gaggle of families lives are all intertwined, and as complicated as the lives of those in our story, there is no simple way of resolving it. I do hope that in the end, it will all be one long, complex story of how true love triumphs, and provides the sorrow and soaring hearts that make this life so very worth living.

**Musicofthenight13**: I do not find your questions annoying. The babies, they are coming my dear, but these things do take time!

**Faeriecatcher1**: That is alright my dear, life is rather demanding sometimes isn't it? Thank you for the compliment on the story. It continues to warm my heart when I hear kind words, and a review from time-to-time so that I know that Phamily members are alive and doing well out there…no matter where in the world this story finds them!


	154. Shudderings

Chapter 154 Shudderings 

The woman rapped at the door. Even the slight touch of her bare knuckles on the surface of it caused her a shudder. The chill of the stairwell itself gave sufficient reason to shiver; if one were not already doing so already from the fear that gripped them from merely being in such a place. She listed to the scraping of a wooden chair that echoed in a nearly barren room behind the heavily rusted metal door. Then, the slow heavy footsteps of the thick leather boots that the man wore scuffling across the floor. What lay between them slowly creaked open slightly; a man of an age not easy to estimate peered out of the aperture.

"What would bring a woman to my door at this time of night? Has there been an unfortunate accident? A murder? Surely you've not come to pay a social call!" His voice nearly as gruff and disconcerting as his appearance. His soiled face and tousled hair, did little to help promote any higher opinion of the man.

The woman was visibly shaking now, to which he took much pleasure. She closed her eyes. "I've come…I've come…I need…."

"Ah yes, you've need for me to do something for you…well let me see…what price can I exact for you having disturbed my slumber…" the man was scratching at the scraggily beard at the end of his chin.

If the woman shan't have known better, she'd have let her imagination of his identity run away with her. Some had rumored that the Phantom had been nothing more than an elaborate ruse perpetrated by the master of deception himself. Recent events most decidedly had tarnished those whispers, but an ill-at-ease was still felt in the man's presence, even if a heavy door lay between them.

The woman swallowed. Before she'd give him a chance to set a price, she'd tell him lest the price increase with his knowledge of the deed. She'd want to know forthright and straightaway. If the price were too steep, she'd try to find another, though she doubted she could.

XXXXXX

Erik sat quietly holding Christine as she slept. The sleigh jostled slightly back and forth as small hills were mounted and descended. It was something of a surprise that the snow had unknowing provided a swifter more placid trip to the City than would have the well-traveled paths had they not been obscured from use by the feet of snow that provided the glass like surface they now traveled.

He listened carefully to Erphan's voice as he spoke rather reassuringly to the young stable hand who sat next to him on the driver's seat of the sleigh. He chuckled to himself. Erphan was perhaps eighteen-months his senior, yet he spoke to the other as though he were a sage philosopher. Erphan had indeed done his homework; reading all that had been given him. Erik could hear him quoting of the wisdoms. "**Aliena nobis, nostra plus aliis placent** - _Other people's things are more pleasing to us, and ours to other people. That was Latin spoken by Publilius Syrus"_. Though it was entirely amusing for Erik, he knew there was a distinct difference in merely regurgitating what one had read or heard, and knowing it to be true when comparing it to the rawness of life. No, there was something different in merely possessing the knowledge, and the knowledge making itself real with the events of one's life.

The other young man was either duly impressed or entirely bored. Perhaps that would say something about the boy himself. If he'd no impression after hearing of the great philosophers, if however unevenly quoted, then perhaps he'd no real interest in anything of depth.

Erik smiled. It was rather like opera he supposed. The first true viewing of it was the most important. If you sat with wide eyed wonder watching as the story unfolded, enthralled by the music, the costumes, caught up by the dramatics of the characters, if it truly took your breath away, it would be part of you forever. On the contrary, if it did not grasp at your soul from the first, it would be merely something you dabbled with, most likely for socially polite reasons. Literature was no different. Some had a penchant for it, and others did not.

Erik pitied the little minds who could not at least reach out in curiosity. He shook his head. That was no way to think…that was no way to respond… "pity the little minds…"

He raised his hand to his face, as if the act could shield him from the torments of his own mind. There was that wretched voice again, filling his mind, causing his pulse to quicken. If only he'd had the courage, the foresight to put an end to that vile creature, so many, including he, would have been spared such suffering.

He rubbed at his brow, it was slowly dampening though the carriage grew cold. Erik tried to remember Nadir's words as they'd left that behind…. "beware dear friend…hell hath no fury like a woman scorned." She'd hated Erik for declining her advances, and further still that doing her bidding had become more and more distasteful to him. If she could not possess the man in flesh, she'd endeavor to possess his soul. It was her last words to him, indeed, the very night that he and Nadir escaped from her clutches that haunted him most.

"You shall never be free from all you've done…you may run from it, from me…but the very ends of the earth shan't be far enough Lord Erik."

Erik shuddered again, his breathing was rapid, his lips grew cold, his hands were as ice, his spine growing rigid. She couldn't hurt him now. But, she could do was haunt his thoughts…and that she did with farther reaching tentacles than she might herself even have imagined. A great instinct to flee, to run, to recluse, welled up inside of him…he was a monster…she'd created a monster….and he'd succumbed to it slowly as a frog does in a pot of gradually warming water. The pervasiveness of her treachery was without parallel.

He'd thought he'd be sick if he'd not rid his mind of these infernal thoughts. Why now? Why after all this time had it come back to haunt him with a merciless vengeance? Perhaps it was in the possession of the creature he now held in his arms…the promise of a life filled with love and family. Perhaps the memories floated in to remind him how truly unworthy of such a life he was….indeed…the very ends of the earth would not be far enough to run from the doubt.

Erik had to reason it out, not run from it, not run from it…. He swallowed, oh how he longed for something to take away this pain, to erase those parts of his life. He'd managed a great many years under the Opera House without any sort of external intoxicant. But now faced with the bruising reality of the land of the living, he wasn't entirely sure he could manage without some sort of assistance of the remedial kind.

He wiped his hand across his forehead, it was beaded with a frigid sweat. He couldn't, he wouldn't, he'd not in years and now with his wife in his arms on the way to Paris, his own pains should be the least of his concerns.

He was immediately remorseful. What would Christine think of his mental wanderings? Was she not enough relief for the woes of a hundred aching men? Erik closed his eyes, now doubly lashing himself.

He would fight these urges, these memories. For years he'd put them away, he'd bottled them up and sunken them to the furthest depths of his memory, he could do so again….if he could but unearth what had opened this Pandora's box inside of him. For surely what now possessed him, felt as if it were the plague that leveled the likes of the Pharos army when they'd dared to peer inside the box. If he'd not discover the means within him to close that box and toss it into the abyss, it had the power to destroy all he'd ever hoped for, and all he would ever be.

There was a rap on the top of the sleigh. Erik jerked so hard he nearly toppled Christine from his arms. He grabbed her about the waist, bringing her to a half-seated position with great apology.

"Erik?" Her eyes were bleary as she blinked with force trying to focus in the dark of the interior. "Erik what is it?" She reached out touching his face, withdrawing her hand quickly in horror…it was as cold as that of a dead man. "Erik, are you not well…is something wrong, is there…"

Erik slipped a finger over her lips. "From this point forward, you must address me as Stephan. No doubt we are nearing the City Christine."

Christine tugged on Erik's shoulder pulling herself erect. Her cloak was tightly pulled about her, it had grown cold within the sleigh, though she was much assured that it was much warmer than the bitter ride that the two young men seated above them had endured. "Erik, why is it that you…"

He put his finger over her lips once more. "I am most serious my love, you've need to address me as our household addresses me. There is little time for us to speak freely now, so I must ask of you to listen carefully." Erik knew Christine would protest, and that is precisely why he'd waited until the end to speak of it. It had allowed her hours of peaceful sleep. "My love I've need to call on you now to keep your promise, just as you'd insisted I hold fast to mine."

Christine listened warily. She neither liked the tone with which he now addressed her, nor the posture she could feel he'd taken. "Erik, I promised you in good faith…"

Erik interrupted, making his point of reminder with his own address, "my dear Elizabeth,

I too made my promise in good faith, though I'd come later to grieve for the making of it. I shan't have want to put my family in peril, but it was a promise that'd I'd not separate us for such a distance again." He paused, feeling in the darkness for her hands. "Now my love, I've brought you to this City, as I'd promised."

Christine waited, but he said nothing further. "Er...Stephan," she corrected herself. "Stephan what are we to do now?"

Erik smiled, she'd been obedient with her words. "My dear, is there anything further that you can tell me of this dream, anything you might have missed, anything at all?"

Christine looked down at her lap, concentrating on the words she'd shared with him hours before. No, she was certain she'd told him all that she'd seen. "No, I've nothing further to add to that which you already know."

Erik sighed, now he could tell her of his intentions. "My dear, my love," he leaned over brushing a kiss across her lips, briefly lingering, he could sense her fear. "The promise you made to be most obedient, without question, I've need for you to prove your word now."

Christine furrowed her brow, and though she could not see him, she looked in his direction, "whatever you ask love, as I'd promised." Though she couldn't imagine what significant role she could play in defending either of them in the depths of the Opera House.

Erik reached out once more caressing her chin. "I've given Erphan instructions." As if on cue the sleigh began to slow. "He is to take the sleigh to a place on the edge of the city. A woman there is a most amenable host, and has been known by me for a number of years. She is blind, which oft served my purposes when I'd have need for things that she could procure, that I could not for myself."

In truth Erik knew they were things that he'd been far to ashamed to ask Madame Giry for, the woman had served his purposes well. Erik felt no guilt for having employed her services, she'd been handsomely rewarded for her efforts.

"She will not mind a call being paid on her. She's only the need to be told that an old friend an old benefactor has requested her most important services, and she will know that it is me."

Christine wondered why he'd bothered telling her as much since he'd be accompanying her….she gasped. "Stephan?"

Erik closed his eyes, lowering his head slightly; she had already figured him out. "It is only for a few hours my love. You promised your obedience, and I shall expect it of you."

Christine wanted to protest, but how could she? She'd held him to his…he had brought her to the City. "Stephan, but how will you, how will I?"

Erik inhaled, there was no room for dishonesty, and the cruel reality of the most undesirable outcome would have to be broached.

"You will stay with this woman for but limited hours. When you arrive in a short while, you are to tell her that I require a place for the three of you to rest and take in a meal. While you are there, inform her that I'm in need of a new smoking jacket, black velvet, she knows my measurements. For her it is but a half-day is labor. That should be sufficient time. Altogether the meal, the jacket, it should give me until sunset. When the setting of the sun arrives on the morrow, you shall be on your way back to Chauesser."

Erik looked down at Christine, raising his brow slightly, "If by that time I do not join you, Erphan is instructed to return you to the winter house, and then move you and the household on to Courtland Manor. He is then to send a post to Madame Giry. Within the week she would come to you, baring whatever news she knew of." There, he'd said it. He listened but there was no sound, not even a breath escaping her lungs.

Christine was holding her breath…what would have happened if she'd not come? What would happen if he did not return, would she be able to get into that sleigh and leave the City without him?

He leaned over whispering into her ear. "I know that all that I've spoken of grieves you my love, there is simply no other way. I cannot have you at the Opera House if there is the unspeakable. I shan't be able to defend them and protect you, it is simply not possible to do both…and if I cannot defend them…then our very trip here will be for naught."

Christine wanted to scream, to say it was unfair, that she could hide, she could take care of herself…but she knew her words were nothing more than a soothing lie of the most selfish kind. Her desire to be where he was, where they were, not to be separated yet again. His logic had once again superceded hers and she'd nothing more to do but comply.

Erik waited. "Elizabeth?" He heard her sigh. "It is time." He shoved a bundle of money into a pouch, pressing it into her hand. "This is payment for the woman's work it is bound together, and an additional sum should you or Erphan find yourself in need."

Erik scooped her up into his arms. "My love, whenever you are outside, though it is dark, keep your hood up, and do make sure she has no other company before you remove your cloak. Then, and only then do so in the back rooms where she keeps the windows covered. If you've need to go of doors, the hood must be up at all times. You know the risks we've taken venturing back into this City." He paused, "Promise me?"

Christine nestled her face into his neck, kissing it. "I shall do as you ask. Do be careful my love." She shuddered as she watched him putting several knives in his boots, affixing his sword on the length of his leg, and the gun over his shoulder, concealed beneath his cloak. Erik pulled out a top hat, to which Christine blinked. She'd never seen in him a gentleman's hat. Under normal circumstances she'd have reveled in his move toward refinement, though now she knew it was nothing more than a prop to ensure his safe passage. Even without it, none would recognize him…not now.

Erik reached over, taking her lips into his passionately once more before he released her. His head leaned against hers, she slid her arms beneath his cloak, embracing him with all the strength she could muster. She looked up into his eyes, placing a tender kiss just behind his ear, whisper in it in a breathy voice, "I love you Erik, more than life itself…I love you." Erik placed one last tender kiss on her temple. "And I you my love." The sleigh came to a stop. They were barely inside of the City, Christine knew instinctively from what she saw when Erphan opened the door to help Erik disembark.

"Take good care of her, and do exactly as you've been instructed Erphan, I am trusting you to do that and nothing more without question." He put both hands on the boy's shoulders. Erphan stood as straight as he could.

"As you've requested sir, without question. I shall wait until sunset, if you've not joined us, I shall return to the Winter House….with.." he paused swallowing, "or without you sir. God's speed to you."

Erik nodded at the young man. Glancing once more into the sleigh. It was a pitiful sight; Christine looking out at him with such worry on her face. "Rest my dear, I've promised to return to you, and I shall…my angel." Then he was gone.

XXXXX

The sleigh careened around the drifts with amazing swiftness. There was little doubt these men had experience handling the sleigh. Nadir and the doctor hung on for all they were worth. It wasn't until they'd passed around the last hill that the horses had a straight away on which to move. It was also then they'd the first glimpse of the glow that came from the distance where Raoul's house lay. The drivers were pushing the horses as hard as they could.

Nadir closed his eyes, lowering his head, "no Lord, no…" He shouldn't have left. If he had been there…IF HE HAD BEEN THERE! It could not be possible. Had he waited in the woods, had he… Nadir's head jerked as one of the men turned around calling out over his shoulder.

"It's not the house, it's beyond the barn, we can see it!"

The doctor and Nadir exhaled in unison. Though they were thankful it wasn't the house, they remained a bit concerned. Why would anyone build so large a fire outside at this time of night? Surely after a storm such as they'd seen, it would not be for a social occasion. No something else was going on, and it frustrated them that they shan't know until they arrived. There had been gun shots, many of them, no…something had gone on.

The closer they drew the more anxious Nadir became. It was something of an unconscious reaction. He stood as they slid over the last small hill, coming down into the yard between the house proper and the carriage house. Nadir jumped from the sleigh, his hand already on his waist pocket, his gun in hand as he ran toward the fire. The men came out of the carriage house, yet another armful of wood, tossing it into the fire.

It wasn't long before the doctor was at Nadir's side. The men tending the fire need say nothing. The hissing, sizzling carcasses in the fire were explanation enough. Nadir and the doctor stood side-by-side looking at the masses that were now burned beyond recognition. The doctor glanced at Nadir, a strange look on his face. Nadir knew this practice well, and further that it repulsed the doctor. He leaned down offering explanation.

"Wolves. They have to burn them. They'd surely return if they did not. No doubt there were a number of them, or they'd have been able to scare them with a single shot. I cannot be certain, but there must be at least four if not five." Nadir turned as he heard footsteps behind them.

"There are five." As he turned he saw Raoul, his arms outstretched to greet him with a warm embrace. "Nadir, we'd thought you'd stay in the City tonight? And you sir," he said turning and embracing the doctor. "What brings you sir, I'd have thought you'd be at the finest hotel in Paris by now."

The doctor greeted Raoul, but he could not manage a smile. Raoul didn't notice, he was more interested in getting the men inside where it was warm, as they were quite obviously chilled through and through.

As they walked toward the house, Nadir glanced over both shoulders, scanning the woods, the doctor was doing the same. Raoul looked at both men, thinking them to be looking for the wolves.

"I can assure you good sirs, they shan't be back, though we've taken precautions, the dogs have been…" Raoul stopped. It was true he'd not known Nadir long, but it was when he turned looking at the doctor, a man whose face he knew better than that of his own father, that he grew ashen. "Whatever is it sir? What causes you such fright?"

The doctor put his hand on Raoul's shoulder, walking a bit quicker toward the house, "Raoul, have you somewhere we can speak, somewhere quite private?"

Raoul looked at him his brow now furrowed in genuine concern, "of course, of course, but whatever is it that…." He paused, a sickening feeling growing quickly in the pit of his stomach, "it is Crawlings isn't it?" Raoul knew the answer before he'd even posed the question.

Nadir replied as he pushed Raoul in through the door on the veranda, "yes it is I'm afraid" he said as the door shut behind them scanning the yard once more.

XXXXXX

Off in the distance the boy could see the amber and orange shafts from the glow of the blaze. He'd dismounted his horse, and walked along the compacted snow that lay beneath his feet. He stood a long while simply watching. The fire was surely built so large for a purpose, though he could not imagine what. He sighed heavily. There would be no surprise visits this night unless an opportunity presented itself. Someone would be outside all through the night tending that fire. The boy spun on his heels. He knew it was most likely his imagination, but he was nearly certain he'd heard something behind him.

XXXXX

Misty was in her room. She'd turned the bundle over and over again in her hand. Oh, how she wished to know the contents; her adolescent curiosity nearly getting the best of her several times, though she fought it.

Who would she trust to accompany her? She would have to choose, and choose in the next hours before the sun rose. It would be one and only one, and they'd have to travel by horse together, for there was no other sleigh to be had. She lay down on her bed, the bundle tucked neatly between her arms. She pulled a blanket over her. Perhaps a bit of rest would aid her mind. The morrow would be rather long, and she'd need to keep her wits about her.

She wondered why Monsieur Courtland would not have shared his triumph with the household upon his return….but she shook her head. He was not a man likely to boast. He had a presence that simply could not be explained. He was a man of great strength, though gentle. He was no doubt a man of great intelligence, though he never belittled anyone for their lack of it. He was wealthy, though he'd not the common snobbish air about him that so many in his standing would have. He was a gifted musician; Misty having been able to hear what he'd played several nights before for his young wife in the library. He was a bit of a mystery really. There was so many reasons to respect the man. She fumbled with the bundle once more before she closed her eyes. He'd assigned her a task, and she'd see to its doing.

**Author's Notes:**

**Phantomsrogue**: Bonjour mon cheri! I cannot tell you how good it is to be home. Hope the move is going well, and that no boxes are lost in the "black hole" during the move! If your office is quite large, it can be a bit tricky.

Yes, I think everyone in the Phamily is a bit worried about Meg and that little brown bottle that is still tucked inside the drawer in her nightstand. It would seem logical that she might look for a crutch when the waters are troubled as they seem to be stirring in that direction. But, alas, I shall plea ignorance of that part of the story! LOL!

And our dearest Erik. The more he tries to embrace the future, the harder his past seems to fight to hold on to him. When he was beneath the Opera House, he'd had everything in his control, under his power. He used fear and trickery and all sorts of things he learned in his former life to manipulate circumstances and people to do his bidding. Now he is learning things are much more complex when he cannot shape them to his liking. Even for a strong and brilliant man, letting go of that control can be frightening. Fear, especially unrecognized, or un-confessed fears can manifest themselves in strange ways, such as haunting memories that were long repressed now coming to the surface. What is good about that, is that it provides a window into his sufferings for the reader, and it provides him a way to finally deal with his past…repression is never healthy.

Oh, Chicago…I love that city. I hope you walk down Michigan Avenue and think of me…I love that stroll, especially after the sun sets and the moon is glowing, with all of the lights twinkling….ah yes….how wonderful indeed. Do be sure (after you've had your fill of turkey, to have some pizza at Geno's….I love that pizza…yummmm.

The name of that place in Williamsburg is Christina Campbell's. I absolutely loved that place…everything about it. Now I know there was electricity in the kitchen, but the remainder of the place was all lit by gas lamp or candlelight, and the servers all dress in colonial garb. I think I ate a dozen of their sweet-potato muffins! The food was fabulous, right down to the Virginia ham. Now, I loved Philadelphia…the historic parts, but if I could have a second choice for a colonial atmosphere…Colonial Williamsburg is the place I would choose to go. I loved it there. If you like that sort of thing at all, plan two days there, and plan to get your feet dirty. You can even have a try at helping them make bricks by stomping about in the mud…and oh, don't forget to try the root beer at the mercantile…it is expensive I think it was $ 4 a bottle, but very worth it! The part I found to be nearly a spiritual experience, is when we were sitting there in the candlelight having dinner, and I realized, and really thought about the fact that those same walls, that same floor, had witnessed George Washington….he had sat at those very same tables, ate under that very same roof….ohhh, I've given myself goose bumps! The other place I had the same feeling was Constitution Hall in Philadelphia….I actually touched the chair where Benjamin Franklin sat…walked along the halls he walked….it was like traveling back in time to when the United States was but a dream in the mind of very brave men.

Sadly no, I do not have IM or Yahoo. If I cannot even return my e-mails, I best not even consider having something more…it would only further my guilt pangs for neglecting those with whom I converse! LOL!

I hope you liked this chapter, though I am afraid that Crawlings is still living and breathing…but for how long….only the authoress knows! LOL!

Bon Nuit mon cheri!

**Nordygirl**: I too can see the actors playing parts of the scenes in my head…ahhh to see Gerard as our dear Erik….it is a quite lovely phantasy! 'I feel pretty' is a bit of an annoying song, but you've made a lovely rhyme for it! Hope you enjoyed this latest edition! I do worry for you my dear…If this story continues, you're going to run out of musicals to pick from ! LOL!

**Poetzproblem**: I am more happy to be back than I can even explain. I too was having withdrawl….this writing thing is beginning to be a bit of a drug for me…. Ah yes, you do ask most excellent questions. Erik finally had to break it to Christine…he did trick her a bit, keeping his promise, for the most part, but did anyone, including Christine really think he'd put her in harms way? Not on his life he wouldn't. He's a special little surprise for her….ah, yikes…almost spoiled it didn't I? LOL! Yes, there is some question about how Meg and Nadir would find themselves together in the lair…it is a bit complicated, but hopefully the next few chapters will make it all a bit more clear!

Have a wonderful night!

**Diveprincess**: It is good to hear from you. Thank you for the compliment on how the story is progressing. I am sorry to hear of your news regarding your old teacher. It is a hard thing to lose someone we love, especially to the ravaging beast of cancer. I lost my step mother to it a few years back. I think everyone in our Phamily knows of someone who has fought it at some point or another. Brain cancer is one of the worst I think, as it robs them of the use of their mind toward the end. I know you were not looking for advice, but if I might offer some, for your sake and hers….spend time talking to her now while she still can converse with you. I'm rather assuming you cannot be with her physically, but a phone call would do the both of you so much good. Tell her how much you appreciated having her as a teacher, perhaps being specific with something that she taught you that you won't ever forget….for a teacher…there is no greater compliment. I'm remembering a story…did you ever see the movie 'October Sky'? If not, rent it…it might help you understand how teachers feel. You are right, everything in life does happen for a reason, even though sometimes we don't understand it until years later. I promise you if you take the few minutes to make the phone call, you'll never, never, regret having done it.

So how is James? Hope all is going well on that account.

**Writermuseofthenight**: It is good to hear from you! I understand completely about obligations that take us away from what we want to do…. Ah, finally some questions that I can answer! LOL! March, it is the later part of March… The wolves…they are both metaphorical, and symbolic, but very real. I do have a bit of a complicated thought process, so I'm always throwing in those twists…I cannot seem to help myself. The wolves do have a symbolic meaning in that they are hungry, ever lurking….sort of like the memories that haunt Erik, threatening him when he least expects it. The storm too is a big symbolic, truth be told, it is rather like the great storm that brews deep within the heart of our beloved Phantom. He has so much to reconcile in his mind, in his soul…before he can truly move on. There are so many pieces of his puzzle that have yet to be discovered and put in place before he feels whole, feels strong. So, enough of my true confessions…lest people think me to be quite mad!

Meg and the Vicomte. They too have a road ahead of them, but it just might be that certain things force the hands of fate…which way, I cannot say…but we know well that they cannot, no, Meg cannot live in both worlds…she will have to choose….

As far as Christine and Erik being in Paris again….it is likely far more dangerous for Christine than it is Erik, for he is no longer having to hide behind a mask, and is rather a handsome one at that, making the women swoon, and the men think him to be an aristocrat! But, yes, there is danger in it, for all concerned!

Christine is already mother to her children which she will birth….I can say nothing more.

**Sol omnibus lucet** - The sun shines upon us all. (Petronius)


	155. What Wonders a Visit Produces

Chapter 155 What Wonders a Visit Produces 

The man looked at her most seriously, "do come in my dear, there is a chair over there, do help yourself." The man closed the heavy door behind her.

Her heart was racing. Had part of agreeing to be maid at the Opera Populaire meant that she'd had to risk her own life and limb to carry out the wishes of the Vicomte? To do so did she have to honor the man's request that she deliver the post to LeMortem Street that very night? She felt like she'd gone into a panther's den. She moved toward the table, trying to avert her eyes to all that surely lay around her. She'd but one purpose for being there, and she'd see to it and be off as swiftly as she could possibly be. She sat down in the small uneven wooden chair beside the table, staring down at the floor. She could see a small glow off to her right, no doubt a fire to keep the damp chill at bay. After all, no matter how pitiful, it is where the man resided, and creature comfort was not reserved for the highbrow alone. She listened as the man closed the door, tightly latching it behind her. She at once was wishing she'd have told someone where she'd gone. In her haste for want to rid herself of the letter, she'd not thought of it.

He slowly shuffled away from her toward a small cast-iron stove that lay off to the side in the small room. He'd not had company in ages, though he did have a spare cup. He looked over his shoulder as he went about his business. "So what is it that you ask of me dear lady? It is with fair certainty that I shall make assumption that it is some unreasonable request that none other would perform for you." He paused as he wound the small lever on his grinder, depositing the coffee beans and a few other things for good measure.

The woman could hardly breathe, let alone speak. Her fear was nearly strangling her. "Yes," was all she could manage.

He sighed, shaking his head slightly as he poured the contents of the grinder into the pot to brew. "You've no need to fear dear lady, have you even once heard of a killing or maiming or any other unsavory deed that I've done?" The man was staring at the wall behind the stove.

The woman swallowed hard, "no".

The man turned smiling, his scraggly appearance nearly repulsed her, though there was a soft look in his eye. "Then what pray tell would lead you to believe that you'd have the honor of being the first?"

The woman looked down again. The man had made his point well. She let out a rather staggered breath, some of the tension of the previous moments now fleeting.

He walked over to her sitting in the chair across from her. "Now what is it that you've come to me that you are too afraid to carry out yourself?"

She held out the envelope. "I'm to deliver this."

The man took the envelope from her, she being visibly relieved for it even to be out of her hands. "Good Sir?" He looked at the envelope. "Who is Good Sir?"

The woman looked up at him, "I'm to deliver it to LeMortem Street, the undertaker there. His name is Perdue." She looked down again. Though this time she noticed behind him a small tidy bed, a nightstand with a single candle, and a rather large book lay open on his bed. No doubt he'd been reading when she disturbed him.

"Ah yes, Perdue. A finer selection could not be made." He smiled at her. "And that is it, that is all, a delivery and nothing more?"

The woman shook her head. "Considering the hour, I shan't want to travel," she paused, "that is folly, no matter the hour of day, I'd not want to travel there unaccompanied."

The man looked over his shoulder and rose, going over to the small blackened pot on the stove. He lifted it and filled two cups, bringing them back to the table with saucers. He sat one down in front of the woman. Taking the first sip of his as he sat once more in the chair.

She looked at it, and him a bit hesitantly, then lifted the cup and saucer. As the steam rose a most heavenly aroma greeted her nose. She had a confused look on her face.

The man smiled. Not a whole smile, but a half. The sort one does when they are caught off guard by their own amusement but try to quickly quell it before it is noticed. "It is the cardamom dear lady…that is what you are smelling, cardamom, and a hint of black peppercorn."

She blinked looking at him.

"Is it so impossible to believe one such as myself would enjoy an experiment or two?" He looked at her with a bit of seriousness in his eye…he'd so long been misunderstood.

She stammered, "no, no….it is that I…I've not ever…" she took her first sip. It was as smooth and even as it smelled, without even a hint of bitterness. "It is rather good." She hesitated, "thank you."

The man nodded. "LeMortem Street…Perdue…let me see, and you'll accompany me?"

The woman breathed in just slightly, "then you are willing?"

The man smiled at her over his cup, "I think you knew the answer before you arrived at my door, or surely you'd not have come."

She shifted around in her chair a bit. He was far more perceptive than she'd imagined. "You are willing then?" She paused, "and what price…what do you ask in return?"

The man's smile grew broad, he had her exactly where he wanted her. "If I am to go alone, I shall ask a much different price. But say you are to accompany me, that shall be yet another."

The woman swallowed, she'd not even considered he would do it without her, but he'd peeked her interest, she had to ask. "If you were to go alone?"

The man looked at her, "a new suit, and a dinner invitation each night until the Opera House reopens."

The woman was ashen. It could be months before the Opera House opened, she could not imagine having this man at her side every night for dinner until then. "And if I were to accompany you?"

The man laughed, he'd made his first request as outrageous as he could, so that his second would seem like a mere pittance in its shadow. "You shall join me here, dine with me here, for each of the next four Sundays. Dinner and conversation, it should be quite painless."

She had to admit though the thought unsettled her, it was considerably less than the first…but she'd have to accompany him to LeMortem Street. She supped from her cup once more, then put it down on the table and stood, affixing her cloak.

The man's eyes lowered just a bit, he'd not expected that this too would be too great a price for what she asked.

She looked at him as she turned. "We best be off. The night grows darker. The longer we wait the less pleasant the journey shall be."

The man stood, again trying to conceal his half-smile. He'd be guaranteed company for the next four weeks, even if it were of the reticent kind. It was better than being alone.

He slid on his cloak, affixing it around his neck. He took a small saber from the wall, affixing it to his belt. "For our protection, though I've doubt it shall be needed." He said as he saw the horror with which the woman gazed on him.

Soon they'd made their way out of the room. As the door closed behind them, the woman felt a bit less apprehension. Less than she'd expected in fact. Yes, she'd been terrified, and the thoughts of the impending trip to LeMortem Street would not be pleasant, but somehow her fear had diminished. Perhaps it was because she'd already faced one fear and lived to tell of it, or perhaps it was the knowledge that at least one other breathing, living thing would be accompanying her to the street of death. Whatever it was, she was grateful to not be doing so alone.

XXXXX

Pyotr and Sebastian had made their way back to their inn. They'd decided on supper in their quarters, it afforded them the greatest amount of privacy. On the morrow they'd have to inquire at several inns to see if they'd be able to make use of a sleigh, or find a courier that was heading off the way of Paris. The posts had to go out soon before goods started to arrive at inopportune times and at a location that was anything but abandoned.

Sebastian was the more cantankerous of the two this night. He was entirely tired of being cooped up like a bird in a cage. The snow was driving him literally quite mad. "Pyotr, if we do not make headway soon, we will be in severe jeopardy of all we've worked for! If they buyers begin to arrive, even before the goods have arrived, it will be difficult to explain. Then they will have want to stay the night, finding out more about our little city than we have want for them. This could not be going more terribly. Do tell me this is the last season in this village, I grow weary of it. I do not care that its half way between the best points. Something feels much different about this city as of late, and I don't like it."

Pyotr let the curtain fall out of his hand as he walked back to the table in their room that Sebastian was seated at. "We've need to be patient Sebastian. The storm has brought no doubt even Paris to its knees. We've no control over Mother Nature." He patted the man on the shoulder as he sat down in the chair across from him. "We've much more to worry about, such as how we are to collect the remainder of the things we do have at the house just outside the city. If the man and his wife remain to fully occupy it, then we shall have to find a way to retrieve our items, that, I think is a much stickier wicket if you ask me."

XXXXX

The woman had grown tired of sitting by the window staring out into the blackness. The city that lay down below her twinkled as though they were a carpet of heavenly bodies laying at the very foot of her. She'd watched for a long while a small light that traveled ever so slowly up the hill in the distance. She stood now, stretching just a bit as she made her way across the hall into the study. She'd retire there for tea until they'd returned.

It was a but a few minutes and the maid appeared with a tray and a pot of the peppermint tea that she so enjoyed. She sat sipping her first cup staring into the fire as she heard the door at the back of the house open and close. There was the business of whispered conversations, of greetings and well wishes that always took place whenever anyone returned from the city. It was a comfortable routine, predictable. She listened carefully as she heard a single, then a duo of footsteps moving ever closer to the room she now occupied. She took another sip of her tea, putting the cup in the bone china saucer, setting it down on the table.

There was a bit of quiet chatter just a few meters down the hall, adjustment of a cravat, the smoothing of lapels and the sort. The young man would want to be presentable when he joined her. There was a gentle rap on the polished oak frame at the entrance to the room. "Madame?"

"Enter." She nodded to the young maid who brought the young man several steps behind her. He held his hands behind his back, nodding politely to the woman, and the maid. "And do bring in a second cup, black pekoe for him I believe."

The young man nodded, "thank you for your generosity Madame." She'd indicated with her hand that he was to sit across from her in the chair, and he'd obliged.

"Now do tell me," she said as she lifted her cup yet again, taking a sip before continuing, "do the citizens of Chauesser fair well, have you any news to bring me?"

The young man wanted to blurt out the very thing he knew would be of most relevance, though he knew it was one he'd like to deliver with a softer blow. He would ease into it during their conversation. "First, let me offer my apology for my late return. The travel was not particularly trying though it was a bit difficult to make our way in and around the city. I did manage to make my way into several taverns, and finally the mercantile, which was brimming and overflowing with restless humanity."

The woman did not glance at him, but rather took another sip of her tea, putting her cup to rest in the saucer, placing them both on the table in front of her. She neither liked idle chatter, nor gossip. If he'd news to share with her, she wished he would get to it. "And the citizens, how did they fair?" she said reemphasizing her question.

"There were many acts of kindness done during the storm Madame. A child was delivered by a midwife, neighbors banned together to shovel away snow from the houses of the elderly and the widowed. There were several generous souls who'd braved the worst of the storm going about sweeping snow from chimneys. There were tales of delivered medicines, and meals. Generally the citizenry faired well Madame."

The woman smiled just slightly. There was something of a redeeming quality of a city who turned into itself, helping one another. "And what other news do you bring me from the city? It seems there were no deaths from the storm…that is all very good."

The young man swallowed hard. He inhaled, he had to tell her. Just then the maid entered the room, bringing the man a singular cup of tea, a slice of lemon laying in the saucer. This was merely a social gesture, for truly the woman did not have casual conversations, or tea as most others would consider it.

"Madame, I am afraid there was need for a rather heroic rescue, but alas the woman did not live long, she'd suffered some sort of injury that swiftly took her after her rescue."

The woman looked at him, now making direct eye contact. "And of what woman do you speak?" Secretly she hoped it would not be a woman with a young family at home, or one of the aged woman who so oft did such good deeds in the city.

He swallowed once more. "It was Victoria LeParue, Madame." He averted his eyes rather quickly. He knew the knowledge of her passing would be received with mixed emotion. The women had been at odds for years, though the last several it had merely been indifference on the part of his employer. No one knew what had fallen between the women, but it was obvious that she had disdain for Victoria, for each time she was mentioned in the course of conversation about the city, it was quickly dismissed in favor of any other topic.

She sat blinking, her spine stiffening, her lower lip quivering. It was finished. It was over, there was no more need to hold the woman with such hostility. The woman, who was the only link she might have had was gone. Slowly, one by one, death had claimed every link she'd had to that which had been the very reason she'd returned to this city. Now death had claimed the final player in this charade. She pressed her eyes closed. It was far too painful to consider just now, and highly improper in front of the young man.

She sat up a bit straighter. "I see." She lifted her cup once more taking another sip. "And to whom do we owe our gratitude?"

The young man looked up at her a bit confused. The teacup lay heavily in the saucer on his lap.

"For the rescue. No doubt this was an heroic effort on the part of someone was it not?"

The young man blinked, the receipt of such news had been much less tumultuous than he'd expected. "Yes Madame, there were several involved, not the least of which was her own daughter and granddaughter. There were several at the Inn that assisted in the final moments, and then there was the man who drove the sleigh, but what was on the tip of everyone's tongue at the mercantile today, was the man whom is being credited for having found the woman." The young man lifted the cup to his lips taking a sip.

"And you've the name of this man? Which of our fine gentlemen was it to whom we shall have to pay honor at our celebration?"

"Madame, it is quite strange. He is a man, fairly new to our City, though he is not new, as he's owned a house here for a number of years, but had never occupied it until recent weeks. He and his young wife have taken up residence there."

The woman looked at him quite oddly. She knew of only one such house that lay on the completely opposite side of the city. It had been unoccupied for years, though a staff did reside there each winter. "And what business would this man have had, what interest would he have in that old woman? Surely he'd not even known her."

The young man sat back in the divan. This was a bit longer conversation than he'd expected. He had fully anticipated being sent from the room as he'd delivered the news of the woman's death. "If the circulating stories are to be believed Madame, it is more extraordinary than it might seem at first blush." He waited. He needed to receive permission from her to speak freely as she abhorred gossip vehemently.

"Do go on," she said nodding to him as she took another sip from her cup.

"It seems that on more than one occasion when he and his wife first arrived in the city, the old woman made quite a nuisance of herself. Disturbing the couple while they dined, and on several other occasions as well I understand. It seems the man had been most gracious on all the encounters." He glanced up at the woman, she nodded, he should continue. "When the woman went missing in the storm there was fear that she'd perhaps attempted to travel to the man's house outside of the city. Nicole, the elder woman's granddaughter is quite close it seems to the daughter of the man who drives a dog sled. He agreed to take his sled out to the gentleman's house, to make certain that she'd not ventured there. He'd found nothing on his travel to the man's house, but once arrived, he shared the reason for his unexpected visit with the man. It seems that the man was quite insistent that he help in the search efforts that were going on in the city for the woman, though there were in truth none as all were holed up taking care of their own concerns."

The woman's brow furrowed, that was not what she had hoped to hear. No matter who had gone missing, all able-bodied men should be out looking for them. "Do go on." She said.

"There were many events that took place Madame, but the end is what is most impressive. He was deposited at the tavern, and he and he alone went out looking for the woman, though her daughter and granddaughter were also searching. Though the women returned, he did not which of course concerned the others who were at the tavern. Eventually the women returned to their search efforts and then all were gone for what some worried was too long a time to survive in such weather. Then a search party was sent out for them."

The woman looked at him rather disgustedly. "Was that the first search party that went out? Pray do not tell me they waited until nearly half-dozen people were missing before any of the men were willing to go?" She said with more than a hint of disgust in her voice.

"Madame, I am quite afraid that was the case. It took over an hour but the lot of them were found, including the old woman, who apparently had been in the man's arms and he'd been making his way back to the tavern when he himself had nearly succumbed to the elements. They were found and delivered back to the inn where they were warmed and tended to by the grandson of our dear departed physician."

"He is now in the city?" She smiled slightly.

"Yes, he's just arrived, and already had his hands on the work of his grandfather."

"I see." She said looking down, yet another man who was part of the elaborate puzzle. "Then what of the events that led to the woman's death?"

"It seems she' had a rather large shard of glass buried deep within her side. Having lost far too much blood, there was nothing to be done."

The woman sat up a bit straighter, sitting her tea cup down on the table. "I'd like to see to taking care of the arrangements for this woman, there is little doubt that her daughter shan't have any means with which to give her a proper burial."

The young man looked down at his lap. "I'm afraid that shan't be necessary Madame."

She looked at the man, "and why is that, has the undertaker set aside his normal greed and decided to do work without his customary fee?"

"No Madame, the man, he apparently insisted upon taking care of her final expenses. It is rumored he's even gone so far as to have contacted a seamstress to sew garments for proper mourning for the two grieving women."

The woman blinked. She'd known no other, not even of the wealthiest families in the city who would have been willing to do such a thing for someone they bearly knew. "It seems we have quite a gentleman indeed. He shall be a most welcome addition to the society in Chausser. I should very much like to arrange a meeting, perhaps prior to giving him honor at the festival…" she paused, the young man's repose told her that there was more than he knew that she did not. "Whatever is it?"

"You see, as he recovered by the fire, it seems that he overheard talk of such a thing, perhaps a consideration on your part to honor him for his selfless efforts."

The woman looked at him. "And what of it?"

"It seems the man became quite enraged by it."

"Enraged by the thought of being honored for his most courageous efforts? That is utter nonsense."

The young man fidgeted with his hands nervously in his lap. "Madame, it seems that he went on to address quite a large crowd that had gathered at the tavern, and then made a swift departure after as much. Again, if sources can be believed, he was quoted as having said something to the nature of." He pulled the paper from his pocket, he'd collected as much of it from the conversations as he could.

"W_hat know you of the value of life? Have you read of John Locke, of David Hume, their theories of life, of the human condition? What right have you to value one life with more weight than another? Whatever has breath, has meaning, has value. In this city with no lack of feckless nebbishes, you fool yourselves into believing a pedigree somehow entitles one to pass judgment on another. There is a paucity of good and compassionate souls that might come to the aid of another just for the sake of the value of that life, no matter how intrinsic it might seem You quibble over matters of felicitating one who does not require it, nor has any desire to receive such genuflection. Chauesser is not in need of pompous fops, off-scourings, or of ne'er do-wells, but in need of men and women of prudence and lacking in arrogant subjugation, who are but willing to exact compassion wherever it is required of them. Pray do tell, all of this pomp and circumstance on display as if you were living a refined and civilized life is but a façade for ineffectual souls? A mere shadow of a city full of citizens content to bask in the glow, but not roll a sleeve, nor lift an arm to aid another? Now, because of this lazy abandon you have want to exalt a man who does nothing more than exercise freely his moral conscience? No, no, good sirs, do not confuse yourselves! There is no hero standing among you today…I am but a man…a man who did what he ought, when it was needed, and nothing more.Good men who tarry allow evil to triumph. Gentlemen, do ask yourselves…what sort of man does this knowledge find you this morning?"_

The young man sat back, nearly certain he'd quoted verbatim what he'd heard recanted.

The woman sat back, utterly speechless. Was it possible that another soul out there shared her same passion? The very same values she'd hoped to instill with gentle support to the city, he had delivered in but a few moments of heated dialogue. She sat quietly drinking in all that was said before she next inquired.

"What of the man now? Is he still at the Inn?" Secretly she hoped he was, she'd had mind to rise and insist that her staff carry her into the city that very night. She simply had to meet such a man for herself. Perhaps with the death of those that were closest to what she truly held dear, the heavens had seen fit to send her a replacement for what she had sought for so very long. Something inside of her tingled, as though a long dormant candle wick had been nipped at by a visiting flame. Perhaps there was hope for a benefactor for this city after all. Perhaps when she departed he would stand in her stead, watching over this city that she loved so very much.

The young man replied, "after he'd delivered his verbal lashings it is said that he made his way angrily from the tavern, and all assume he's made his way home to his wife."

"I see." She said standing now, the young man doing the same.

"I should like very much for you to see to the delivery of a post on the morrow, even if it requires you to do so yourself. I shall draft a letter announcing the intention of a visit to the man and his wife. No other in the city is to know of my intentions, is that clear?" She looked at the young man most seriously.

"Yes Madame, whatever you instruct, I shall see to it." He stood awaiting further instruction.

"I shall draft it in my room, and have it delivered to you before the morrow. Then you shall see to its delivery. I shall not want to impose on this man or his household, let us plan a visit for two days after the posts arrival. You will see to all the details then, whether it be by sleigh or carriage then. I should also like to make arrangements for preparations of several bouquets of flowers from the greenhouse and a box of the chocolates that the chef prepares during the holidays, as a treat for the young man's wife. Surely there is some reward for her to have supported her husband in his efforts. Surely he'd not refuse her a gift." She looked at the young man for the first time showing a bit of life returning to her eyes. "Is this all possible within two-days time sir?"

The young man stood straight, "yes Madame, it shall be as you wish. I shall see to all of the details myself."

"You are dismissed young man," she said, turning to leave the room before he. She paused, "thank you for delivering this news sir, it is a job well done." She smiled at him and departed.

The young man stood there for a few fleeting seconds, hands drawn properly behind his back. He'd have assignment for the next days seeing to every detail. In a household known for nothing more than silent service, and a rather mundane routine, this was a most welcome assignment. He'd see to every last detail for her, every last one.

**Author's Notes:**

**Dear Faithfuls**: So much is happening now, and our Dear Erik is on his way to the Opera House, and Christine, she is on her way to a place Erik knew would be safe for her, where she would not be found. Don't worry, Erik and Christine reappear in the next chapter…

Captainoblivious: Slides in on her knee indeed! Sounds like you have been busy my dear. I trust that Suzy must be in working order again, never having made a rendevous with the Patmobile I see! LOL! Hmmm…only ten minutes from your home…well, that is promising. Have you ever seen the rather schmaltzy movie 'I'll be home for Christmas'? If so, perhaps you will find humor in your possible travels home for the holidays, with Rob and Suzy! Ahhh yes…the imprint of cologne…if only guys knew how crazy that drove us ladies….and I understand about not wanting to wash your sweaters….ahhh…. I'm certain that this is how Christine would have felt about Erik…..

Yes, a great deal going on with the story. There are so many people in the story now it tends to get a bit confusing, but they are all but seeds for the blooming story…yes…there is a DUN..DUN..Dunnnn coming around the corner…..hmmmm….I can hardly wait until it is revealed…..

Have a wonderful day! And do keep in touch. Your Phamily will be most interested in knowing all about this Rob guy, and whether he is worthy of you. LOL!

Phantomsrogue: A tangled web, yes, I have always been a fan of rather complicated stories, perhaps that explains why this has become so involved. Real life is rather complicated and so it seems more real to me. If a story were easy it just lacks believability….I suppose the opposite could be said about a story that becomes too complex! LOL! I must say I think Erik is a rather strong man…and you know they say weathering a storm in life makes you that much stronger, more useful, and often more compassionate of others….hmmmm….perhaps in an odd way it was the seasoning his soul needed to heal. I laughed, mucking up the story line. No doubt you shall see the poor pitiful wretch of a boy did have a purpose, a most pointed purpose….hmm…

I am most interested in learning about this ball you are attending…oh if only Erik could be there….it would be a dream come true. Ah yes, homework. I rather liked my legal research class, imagine that. I would sit in the law library for hours, nay, longer…I'd start early in the morning with a cup of espresso and a croissant (smuggled in of course) and read and read and read…then suddenly I'd look up because my stomach started to growl and it would be dark outside. I have to say law cases I find nearly as interesting as literature…things are almost so unbelievable that they seem like they should be fiction. Have you ever seen the movie 'Pelican Brief'? If not, rent it. I felt like the woman that Julia played in the movie when she was doing research for the brief she was writing! LOL! It can be a tedious class for some…I understand that completely. Yes, college is tiring after awhile, and it does often seem like it prevents you from actually "living" if you will. But I have to say there are only a few classes that I walked away from that I can actually say that I didn't learn something that I later used in my career. Even some of the most difficult classes for me tended to be the ones that I drew a great deal from, if nothing more than the very act of learning how to preserver through tough assignments! The truly wonderful thing about being an educated person, is that one day you will be able to do all of those things that you've had to set aside for so long, and you will enjoy them all the more because you had to wait for them…and hopefully…will have chosen a career that will help you to afford indulging in such passions!

Bon Nuit, mon cheri

WriterMuseoftheNight: Poor Christine…yes Erik's loyalties seem to be a bit divided, which of course is rather difficult for both of them. She understands, but that doesn't make it any easier to deal with. They both truly long for a period free from strife and conflict…and perhaps this last effort will finally provide them a time for some serious solitude. Hmmmmm…. Yes, no longer having to hide behind that mask has allowed him freedoms that he'd never known before, and now, he has a new mask, an unblemished face that no one has ever seen, making it all the easier for him to be a new man…..

The flashback…I've not read Kay's novel, but I have heard reference to a number of parts including that Erik was under the influence of some woman in Persia. In order to stay true to something that is sort of a Phantom prequel, then I've decided to throw in a few things about the subject. It helps us to understand the dark angst of a man who was even more scarred inside than he was on the outside.

Erik is probably, as you suggest, in less danger, and you are right, Crawlings does think him to be dead…how perceptive of you my dear! Christine is in danger only if she is found because she will have so very much to explain…and it would put all that she now has in great jeopardy if she is found.

Aude sapere - _Dare to know!_

**Diveprincess**: You are most welcome my dear. The letter is good, very good. If she's expressed the desire not to have visitors, you have to respect that. The letter was no doubt cathartic for you, and will allow her to know all you've thought of her. Bravo! Oh, and you were not blabbering…not at all. I understand that you are concerned. Just letting him know that you care about him, and reminding him of your pact and that is why you care, is about as much as you can do. You mentioned that he rationalizes his actions…truth be told…we all do that to some degree or another…its just that his is more irrational than he is yet ready to understand. Just keep being his friend…in the end, if I might quote Martin Luther King Jr., "In the End, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends."

Thank you for your kind words about my stepmother. When you said that you know that everything happens for a reason….Six weeks before my step-mother died of cancer, my father had a heart attack and died just a few days before Christmas. I'd kicked myself a hundred times over for not being with him that night, for surely I could have administered CPR and he'd have lived. Though I'd had the strange urge to visit him that night, I didn't go, and of course then he had his heart attack. You can only imagine the guilt that riddled my soul for weeks afterward…I somehow felt like I'd ignored a gut instinct, and it had in the end cost my father his life. Now the point I'm trying to make is that his death taught me never to ignore my gut instincts, but something further, about fate. It was the evening of my stepmother's funeral that I walked outside and looked up at the cold wintry sky. I remembered my father's words, and suddenly my heart released the painful grip of guilt that had clouded my soul since the night of his death. He'd told me one time that the thing he feared most about getting older was one day being alone. You see my stepmother had cancer for a number of years before she died. He always worried that he would be the one that would be left alone, and he didn't think he would be able to bare it. He prayed that he'd never be alone. So you see, fate, nay, God saw fit to answer his prayer, allowing him to go before she….so why things happen the way they do is sometimes a mystery…but there is always a reason…always.

Take care my dear, and keep up the good work in school!

Phantomfan13: Yes, it is so very good to be back! You do know me well, I've a knack for drawing things out such as their arrival in Paris! LOL! Congratulations on your 91 in English and Science…Erik would be very proud! Phy-ed, while I am not undermining its importance is of less significance than the others…so do not worry.

You mention the new HP movie. I know there are a great many people who are just gnawing at their fingers to get into the theater to see it! I hope you and your friends really have a good time, and are able to sit back and just enjoy the movie…though it is hard not to criticize isn't it?

**SilverRains187:** I smiled when I imagined you sitting on the edge of your seat, and something falling off a desk startling you, sending you to the floor. I sometimes feel that way when I'm writing, I get so excited about where it is going that I nearly fall off my chair!

I think you are right, if Erik has more of these flashbacks…and they seem to be coming more frequently, then he will have to let them out somehow. Will he ever share them with Christine? I suppose that is dependent on whether he ever feels he can ever truly let her in on his former life….if he feels she can handle it and still love him anyway.

**NordyGirl**: Your creativity continues to amuse me…I'd nearly forgotten about that song, but now it is stuck in my head! I myself wonder when the two of them will slip and use the wrong names, or if someone else that knows them uses the wrong names…how much confusion that would cause…hmmmm…it would get rather interesting wouldn't it?

Have a great night!

**PhantomFan13**: Suspense indeed. Yes my dear….wolves to be more exact. As for the rest of the questions, I am quite sorry to delay…but all the answers you seek will be provided for you soon my dear….

Faeriecatcher1: I am truly sorry about the wolves in the story. I pondered whether I should include that part or not, but there had to be some reason that the dogs that normally guard the property were taken inside, and the fire needed to be there for other reasons…though I cannot say why. The awful process that I described, was in fact something that was necessary back then with wolves because of their behavior, especially when they were on the hunt. But I am sorry if I offended you in anyway, that was not my intention my dear. I can promise you there shan't be another reference like it again in our story.

I smiled when I read that you worry about the characters even when you aren't reading the story…alas…I've sucked you into my world! I think about them when I go for my walks, when I'm having dinner…when I'm waiting in traffic…well, you get the idea!

Have a good night my dear!

**Batteredchild**: Good to hear from you again my dear! How is the weather for you? It has been cold in my area of the world, in fact we had our first major snow-storm last night…traveling to and from work was rather interesting! I did like your one-liner… "I hope the wolves get Crawlings"…I have a feeling there are some in the family that would like to sick those wolves on me if I don't get that boy out of the story and soon! LOL!

Yes, I feel for Christine too. She sort of tricked him into promising that he'd not part them, and in turn he tricked her only to keep her safe…though as it will turn out, it might be good that she's come to Paris…she learns a good deal more about that husband of hers!

Have a wonderful night!

**Lady Winifred**: I don't have a name for her, but I assume you are referring to the woman from Kay's novel. She is a treacherous woman isn't she? Thank you for your compliment on the story. It is getting a little complicated right now, but all the parts of the puzzle will fit into place in the coming chapters…

**Passed Over**: Welcome to the Phamily! We hope your stay with our little Phamily will be a long and happy one! You are correct, no one, probably not even Raoul now is looking for her…all think her to be dead most likely. The problem would be that if she were discovered she'd have much to explain, and no doubt she and Erik would be parted forever, and he would be hunted down… I must congratulate you, or commend you for joining our Phamily. I know I've said it to other new members recently, but it is quite a commitment to read the story this far into it…thank you…and I do hope that in the end you will have found it to be a worthy investment of your time!

Now as has become tradition for our Phamily…we simply must know, if you are willing to share, the origins of your tag name. Passed Over….I am hoping that you are not a lover scorned…or a former contestant on American Idol….Do share with your new little Phamily my dear!


	156. Behold What Blind Eyes See

Chapter 156 Behold what Blind Eyes See

Erik watched as the sleigh moved away. It was both joyous and heartbreaking to know that Christine was there with him in Paris, a city that revered both siren and specter. He took comfort in knowing that she'd be somewhere safe in but a few minutes time. He found a haven within the shadows of a building, waiting and watching until the sleigh was no longer in view. He closed his eyes, raising a silent prayer. "Let this night hold no treachery for this woman, nor the men whose care I've now entrusted her to." He paused, "and allow it to hold no more treachery for any others than that which you have fated."

He pressed his eyelids tightly shut, exhaling heavily, deliberately as if freeing one being and embracing yet another. He inhaled slowly taking in a full lung of the Parisian night air. A mental if not physical transformation taking place in the mere act of it. He lifted his chin, looking out now with different eyes. He turned, his cloak in hand swirling about him. Instinct had taken over. Erik, the husband, the lover, the father…he had ridden away in the sleigh with the mellifluous angel, his darling Christine. What remained now was the creature of darkness…the Phantom had returned to his City, his haunt, and none knew it better than he.

XXXXX

Christine's heart broke as the sleigh ventured away to destinations unknown to her, leaving Erik behind at the City's edge. She knew he was more capable than any mere mortal handling any happenings with surgical precision; she did not worry in that regard. She sighed, a sad melancholy sigh. The moments between when she'd first woken from the dream, tangled in the web of sheets, and the sleigh she now sat in, seemed like a surreal sequence of events that twisted and twisted themselves until they'd become an intricately interwoven, complex knot. Though she grappled with it, trying desperately to make sense of it, to unwind it, to sort it out, it would not release its grip on the present circumstances. So oft these last months she'd wanted to be in a time other than the one she occupied, unless they were in Erik's presence. She'd found herself longing for the past, or dreaming of the future whenever he was not at her side. But oh, when he was with her, those moments were like spun gold strands of time, dripping with amber honey. The more time she spent in his presence as his wife, the more alive she felt.

Christine had resigned herself to the fact that she'd no control over these next hours. Erik was nothing if he was not a dedicated friend, and Nadir was like a brother to him. Meg…she held a special place in his heart. Only Erik had the ability to remedy this, if in fact there was something to remedy…though Christine was certain that Nadir and Meg were in danger.

Minutes only passed until the sleigh came to a halt. She'd barely had time to lament Erik's departure before the door opened, Erphan's hand coming in to assist her. "Madame Courtland," he said with all the politeness and respect that a seasoned footman would possess.

Christine took his hand, carefully tucking the leather pouch beneath her cloak. The young man that had kept Erphan company was already rapping at the door. He turned to look at Erphan, question on his face. "Monsieur Courtland said that she is blind not deaf, knock again, with a bit more force this time."

Christine stood next to the sleigh watching as Erphan took her bag from the sleigh, along with the several baskets that had been brought to accompany them. She turned as the door opened. It startled her, no light had been lit indicating the woman had risen. Then Christine looked down chastising herself, the woman was blind, lamp light would be of no use to her.

No doubt she had candles and lamps in her house for the benefit of her guests only. The young man was conversing with her. Christine could hear him talking, "Good lady, we are terribly sorry to intrude upon your slumber so late into the evening. We are here at Monsieur's, an old benefactor's bidding. We've his wife among the three of us, she bares a request from him."

The woman gruffed, "he's no wife sir, now do be off with you." She started to close the door, the young man trying in vain to protest.

Christine moved quickly forward. Perhaps it was Christine's soft kindly voice, but whatever it had been, it gave the woman pause. "My dear lady, my husband and I are newly wed. He has sent me here on his business as he is otherwise detained, he has asked me to convey to you that an old friend an old benefactor has requested your most important services."

There was a long pause. The woman smiled opening the door, "ahh yes, you must be the angel he spoke often of. How wonderful to see that the longings of his heart finally came true, my dear, do come in, and bring that precocious boy you've brought along in with you as well."

Christine smiled, nodding to the boy and Erphan "Madame, there are three of us, does that sit well with you?" The woman nodded, "I might be blind child, but I am not deaf. Have your horseman bring his horse and sleigh around the back. I've room for it out of the weather."

"Thank you kindly," Christine said. The woman had a bit of a coarse personality, and it was obvious from her comments that Erik had spent a bit of time with her. Christine smiled. She was just the sort of woman that she could see Erik taking a fancy with…she'd not judge him with her eyes…it was her heart and her mind that gave shape to what she'd think of the man, and Erik would be beautiful on both counts.

Erphan nodded to Christine, he'd heard the woman's offer and would see to it. Christine smiled at him, something of a worried smile. Erphan had no reason to fear as he knew not of the real reason they'd ventured to Paris. If he had any inkling that Erik might be in danger, he'd have handed the reins off to the other young man to be at Erik's side. No he had only the knowledge that there was urgent business that his master had to tend to and nothing more. Of course he'd been cautious, the knowledge of Crawlings still roaming about had been well known, though the thought was that he'd be far from Paris now, certainly with the guilt of the death of the innkeepers still fresh.

Erphan followed the building round to the back. There was a rather large porticus at the rear, large enough for the sleigh to fit in as well as bed for the horse. Once he'd settled them in he would join Madame Courtland in the warmth of the woman's house. He'd hoped she'd have lit a lamp by then, as he'd no want to insult a woman who'd just been roused unexpectedly from her slumber.

"Come in, come in my dear, you'll catch yourself a dreadful cold if you stay out of doors." The women ushered Christine and the young man into the entry. "Wait here," she said as they heard her shuffle off into the darkness.

The young man cleared his throat. He'd never been in Christine's presence alone. He thought her to be beautiful, and his master to be a fortunate man.

Christine heard the strike of a flint stone and the room toward the back of many lit just slightly. The woman slid her hand along the wall as she made her way back down the long hallway. The building was long and narrow suitable for a seamstress Christine thought to herself as she watched the old woman reenter the small room that they stood in.

"Do come in, follow me." The woman handed Christine the small lamp. She'd no use for it herself.

Christine and the young man followed her down a few doorways until she turned abruptly to the left. Christine's eyes grew wide as the room came to life with the small light. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes beheld the pictures that adorned the walls. She knew instinctively who had painted them.

"Yes child, you see it was a long while that he'd been visiting before he realized that I could not see." She moved over to a small chair, no doubt one she occupied often as she looked quite at home there. "You see child at first when he came to me, he'd followed me from the Opera House. He'd no way to pay for his first garments, and offered in trade to paint my portrait for a suit. I'd not the heart to tell him that I'd not be able to enjoy it myself, and had no children to leave it to, and I could tell by the way he asked that he had much pride but little money or he shan't have been there asking at all. His first suit, I remember it well. It was of the finest cloth that I'd worked with in a great long while. It was left over from a rather large order I'd made for a fine Parisian family. They'd brought it back from another continent on their travels, I shan't be able to recall where just now. He told me he wanted black, so black it was."

The young man asked, much to Christine's chagrin, "however did you know the fabric was black mum, not having…" Christine shot him a discerning look. The boy immediately hushed.

The old woman laughed a bit, "it is alright my dear, you do not have to silence the boy, it is an honest question."

Christine quickly realized the woman was more perceptive than even those who had site. Surely she'd heard his abrupt end, and it would not have been done of his own volition.

"That is a fair question young man," the woman said smiling, rocking back and forth in her chair. I recall what the family told me when they'd delivered the bolts of fabric. Then, I remember fabric by the feel of it. It was most exquisite. It felt like the velvety petals of a leafy plant I shan't be able to name just now. Somewhat like the feathers of a dove. It was thicker than silk, and thicker still than cotton, but thinner, yes, decidedly thinner than wool." She smiled. "I remember them by touch young man."

The woman's voice had blended into a nearly mute tone in Christine's mind as she wandered around the room looking at the various paintings. Ballerinas, like the ones on the ceiling of the winter house, all in various costumes, Christine recognized some of them from productions in recent years. They'd been set in simple yet elegant frames of polished wood. She turned around and was going to ask the woman a question, and again she was taken back. What lay before her now was an even greater wonder.

"Ah yes. Those are the very ones most oft spoken of….the faceless beauty with long dark curls…whoever could she be they ask? Now mind you I've not seen them for myself but I've so often heard my patrons speak of them that I nearly feel as though I have."

Christine blinked, her hand unconsciously rising to her face. He had followed her, away from the Opera House. There was no other plausible explanation. As Christine's eyes began to roam each one, the woman began to describe them.

"They tell me the first is of the same woman, though she is but a girl. She is walking in the park, her hand in that of another young girl with flaxen hair, she too lacks the benefit of lips, eyes, and nose. They are carrying parasols and I recall them saying something of stuffed bears with flowing ribbons about their necks, one brown, one black."

Christine's eyes roamed the picture, the swans carved into the ornate gilded frames that lay as a back drop. She closed her eyes. She could see that afternoon in the park. It was her first summer in Paris, and Madame Giry had taken her and Meg to the fair. Each had managed to beg for a teddy bear. Though Madame Giry had thought it a quite frivolous expenditure, she'd relented. Meg had the black, she the brown. They'd walked hand and hand all the way back to the Opera House at dusk, Madame Giry strolling just slightly behind them.

"Then the next, the girl has grown slightly, though they say it she. She is walking along a sidewalk, there is snow on the ground, her cloak just barely above it. She is carrying something…what was it…"

Christine interrupted, "a wreath." she said in a nearly breathless voice. She was on her way to her father's grave. She recalled that afternoon well. She'd been in the stables, one of the kindly men there had helped her to fashion it with pine bough and holly, affixing it with red ribbon she'd taken from the scrap bin on the third level of the Opera House where the garments were made. After she'd finished it she'd planned to take it to her father. Of course Madame Giry had somehow become aware of her plan and found her just as she was venturing down the sidewalk. The down turned head of the picture, Christine knew exactly when that had been, she was on her way back in, she'd be taken by sleigh to her father's grave, she'd been properly scolded.

"Now the third, I am told it is something of a mystery. None can say quite what the surroundings are, but they imagine it's a church or another holy building."

Christine caught herself before she blurted it out. It was the chapel at the Opera House. She remembered the occasion well, it was the evening of her fourteenth birthday. She recognized the box that lay open, ribbon discarded at her side. It had been a gift from her father. Madame Giry had hidden it for safe keeping all those years. It was the tiara that her mother had worn when she'd had her debutante ball. Yes it was a bit premature the note from her father had said, but he'd wanted her to have it for several years before the event so she could dream of it properly. She smiled. How often she had caressed it and thought of the woman that she'd never known. She nearly cried at the very sight of it, knowing that Erik had watched and perhaps for the first time had wondered if his young love would one day leave him.

"Then the fourth, she's a bit older still, I understand it is the first where one can tell she is wearing a proper lady's dress, a corset. It is odd how some have started to discuss her, as though she wer of flesh and blood. She is dressed in a crimson silk dress…."

Christine closed her eyes. It had been the day she'd graduated from finishing school. It was an oddity really that chorus girls were sent to such a school, but Madame Giry insisted upon it. It was not a choice, rather compulsory for each and every one of the girls in her care to attend. Madame Giry had always said that she was raising ladies who would go on to be wives and mothers, not sewer rats that oft were the products of other establishments of ill repute in the city. Christine had been so pleased that day, and Madame Giry so proud. She even remembered the red rose with the black ribbon that she was holding in the painting, it had been a gift from an admirer Madame Giry had told her.

"Now the fifth, they are certain that the painter simply had a fascination with ballerinas."

Christine cocked her head, this one was not familiar to her. Her eyes roamed every corner of it for some clue. Perhaps it had been incorrectly placed with the collection, but no, it was the same girl, though the costume, the gown she wore…… Christine gasped. She knew the gown, she knew it well. It had been the gown she'd admired of the ballerinas that Degas had painted in the Opera House. Christine had told angel that she'd one day wish to be as lovely as this ballerina, to have a dress of such fine silk, to be as elegant and refined as she. A tear grew in her eye as she beheld it….she could nearly feel the fabric of the dress on her skin. He'd been imagining the dream with her, and for Erik, it had flowed out of him into the colorful oils that had been blotted and blended to perfection on the canvas, now held taut and steady in its frame. Though he could not provide the dream, he could immortalize it for her.

Christine's eyes wander from frame to frame as the woman described them in detail. It left Christine wondering how the woman could describe with such accuracy that which was portrayed that she'd never beheld with her own eyes. She felt as though the woman was telling of some of the most intimate moments of her life.

"Now turn child, you should see the final in the series. The woman was smiling as she heard Christine reposition herself. There child, above the hearth."

Christine lifted the lamp carrying it over to the mantle. She slowly looked up taking the painting in inch by inch. Her eyes traveled from the swirling flow of cascades of ivory fabric that had been painted that led up to an elaborately beaded gown, and on the crown of brown tendrils of the faceless woman was a veil…he'd painted her in her wedding dress….the one he'd had for her in the Opera House. Christine looked closely, reaching out her hand to touch the frame. In the shadows of the painting where all manner of flora and vine creating a mystical backdrop. In the midst of it all, if one looked with keen eye, was the smoky figure of a man…off in the distance. No doubt it was the groom for this bride. Christine smiled. He'd tried to imagine it, even then, he'd hoped, though it was evident that he shan't ever have felt worthy to claim her as his.

The woman sat silently, knowing that this young bride was still taking in the glory of all of it. "Yes, this was the last he'd done for me. He said he could do no more of her, his heart simply could not bear it."

Christine's eyes immediately welled. She'd so much she wanted to say but so much more she'd want to ask. The primary question would set the stage for the rest. "Did he not know you'd not be able to see them? Why would one make such a barter for something that would be of no good use?"

The woman laughed heartily. The chair beginning to rock back and forth once more. "My dear, when he'd requested his first garment in exchange for a portrait, I'd agreed. One should always do what one can for those less fortunate."

Christine looked at her, who could be less fortunate than one whose eyes deprived them of the very beauty of life? She knew none.

The woman laughed, "I'd agreed, taken his measurements, and tailored for him an exquisite suit. Now he'd been most insistent that he'd not take the suit until he'd delivered his end of the arrangement. It was when he had finished and displayed it for me that he'd truly discovered my secret." She sighed…. "he was a clever one that man. We'd laughed over the incident a number of times over the following years. He'd suspected that something was amiss, and it was not until he'd displayed his work that his assumptions were confirmed. I told him it was the most beautiful painting that I'd ever seen, to which he was quiet for a moment and then replied, woman the beauty of it is in your mind, for surely the canvas that lays before you is entirely devoid of color and shape. You can imagine my surprise, and the great pleasure he'd taken in proving his hunch correct!"

Christine laughed, yes that was exactly like Erik. "However is it that you agreed to more when you'd not be able to enjoy them yourself?"

"You see my dear, it was quite a suitable arrangement for the two of us. I was quite new to being a seamstress when first he'd visited. There were many who doubted that a woman without vision would be able to perform her duties, and if she did, not do so well. My mother had been a seamstress for many of the families in our city, and it was because of her that any had even allowed me to try. So it went that I did have enough to feed myself and keep a roof over my head, though I could find no other business." The woman smiled, coughing a bit, rocking back and forth before she continued.

"He had made mention on his second visit, after he found the portrait he'd done of me sitting against the wall still covered in canvas, that he could be of some assistance to me if I'd work in exchange. Though he'd never said, he knew we both had our considerable prides to think of, neither would receive something out of pity. As it went he agreed to fashion my greeting room, this one we now sit in, making it more palatable to receive guests. He went about arranging the furniture you see, roaming all the rooms of the upper floors, pulling things from here and there. My mother had left all of her worldly possessions to me, and when I moved here, I'd simply had them stored in the rooms above, I'd no use for them." The woman shook her head.

"It wasn't long and he'd arranged rugs and sitting areas with the furniture, I understand that he polished the wood on the walls to a bright sheen. Then he began to arrange collections of portraits that he'd paint for me in exchange for garments. He'd gone on to make for me three formal dressing rooms for my patrons, those are just down the hallway there." The woman motioned with her arm."

Christine looked down the corridor. She'd no doubt be exploring them on her visit.

The woman rocked back and forth just smiling. "He spent quite a little time here. Then he'd been gone for what seemed months, returning one day with an apology and a request. He'd wanted a woman's garment made, most unusual I'd thought. I inquired if it were for his wife, and that is when he'd told me he'd no hope of ever marrying, that he was not an attractive man. Strange to me, he had such a good soul, how could one not love such a kindly man?" She smiled shaking her head. "As it went he'd brought with him one of her garments for measurement. So I agreed, making the dress for him using the fabric he'd brought with him this time, it was special he'd said, it had come from a far off land."

Christine listened with hungry attention. This woman might very well be able to put together pieces of Erik's past for her….ones that she could, nay, would never ask Erik for.

"Again we were parted by what seemed months before he returned, though this time when he paid a call he was a much happier man, I could hear it in the timbre of his voice. When I inquired he'd simply said that he'd found a muse and he'd brought me a gift. It was the first in the series that you'd just been gazing upon. Well you see my dear, my business had grown. The improvements that he'd made to my surroundings had indeed provided sufficient atmosphere for new customers. Soon I was having at least a family a week arriving at my door. They'd as much wanted to come to admire the work in this room as they did to procure new garments."

The woman smiled wide. "Then as this first painting was hung on the wall, it began to be a bit of a conversation piece, who was this young woman, who was this mystery painter? I of course had been sworn to secrecy by him. Soon my business grew into something that became more than I could even do alone. I'd taken in an apprentice to keep up with the requests. Periodically he'd add to the collection, filling in here and there with paintings of ballerinas, and the likes of other things, but I must say whenever he added to the collection of the faceless girl, I seemed to have a sharp increase of visitors! Over the years this room has become a favorite for my families. Though I've slowed a bit, and my apprentice has gone on to open her own dress shop in the City. I've retained some of the families that I've done for all these years. I do not have to travel outside of my home, they all enjoy coming here, seeing the paintings, enjoying the dressing rooms, and of course a nice cup of tea." The woman sat smiling rocking back and forth.

Christine leaned back in the divan as she came to rest. He had ventured outside of the Opera House, he had at least one other friend in his life, one who knew nothing of his life or where he'd come from or where he'd gone. She looked upon the woman, she was quite alone and seemed to enjoy the conversation so. "He wanted me to convey to you that he misses you, and has hopes to see you soon." Though it were not true, somehow Christine knew that Erik would not mind her improvising for the sake of a woman whom he'd spent much time with.

The woman smiled, then sat upright in her chair, her feet coming to rest. "Now child, what is it that he asks of me?"

Christine looked over her shoulder as Erphan came into the room. "You see, we've, the three of us, have need for a place to stay until sunset on the morrow. He, my husband, has business in the City, and he shan't return for us until then. He hoped that you would not mind having us whilst he was tending to it."

The woman's face tilted and questioning. "Not that I mind the visit my dear, but wouldn't it have been more suitable for you to be at an inn or one of the fine hotels in the city?"

Christine had to think quickly. "You are quite perceptive, though all the hotels are full from the recent storm, and he also has need for a new smoking jacket, black of course."

"Ah, yes the storm, I'd nearly forgotten it." The woman was rising. "I suppose there are couches in the dressing rooms that you could make use of to rest. We'll have to build fires in them, they are not warm now."

Erphan stepped forward. "Madame, my name is Erphan, I am but an escort to Mrs. Courtland and her husband. I shall tend to whatever you like if you'd be so kind as to tell me of its whereabouts."

Christine blinked, a bit of horror coming over her. She'd no idea of what the woman had known of Erik's name, and hoped, desperately hoped that this would not raise an issue she'd no way to address. She was holding her breath as she looked at the woman.

"Mr. Courtland? Ahh, that is his name?" She started to shuffle off to the hallway, "I never knew him as anything other than young man, or his favorite, dear benefactor." The woman laughed.

Christine exhaled, trying to be rather discreet in her relief, another situation averted slimly. She wondered in the back of her mind how many more of such would they encounter whilst in the City. Her mind wandered to Erik…dear Erik….wherever her love was, she'd pray he was safe.

XXXXXX

Madame Giry was brushing Meg's hair. The pair had retired to Meg's room. Madeline had brought them a pot of tea. She told them that Raoul had been detained, some matter or other for the household was the delay. Meg stared at herself in the mirror as her mother ran the brush down from the crown of her head to the ends of her hair. This task had been done certainly thousands of times, and each time, without fail, it relaxed her. She was tense, though was decidedly calmer, and the methodical brushing assisted it.

"Mother, how do you think they are…if they are well." Meg said, trying to change the focus of the conversation to anything other than she.

Madame Giry put her hand on Meg's shoulder, then her other on the top of her head, turning it forward so that she could put in the proper braid. "My dear, I am certain they are fine." In the back of her mind she hoped that Christine was feeling well, that she wasn't longing for her company, that she'd not had questions that none could answer for her. She knew Erik would no doubt be doting on her. She smiled, "I'm certain they are happy, and even now are taking comfort in one another's company." Her comment making Meg smile. She'd always wish for the best for them, always.

**Author's Notes**: O.K., I'm certain that everyone in the Phamily is scratching their head…yet another woman in the story? But I must confess, I've always wondered, really a nagging thought, if Erik was below the Opera House, wherever did he get all of those garments he wore, that fit him oh so perfectly? They surely were not left over from Opera House productions. You see I simply had to resolve that in my mind. So now we all know! And of course, the exchange of work for work before Erik had money, that seemed to make sense to me, because he was a man of honor in that regard. He is a deeply complex man, torn between what longs to be good in him, and that which his hands found themselves forced into that was less so. It seemed only fair that since he'd been suffering so from the fractured memories of a turbulent past, that we see the opposite side of him portrayed in generous acts of kindness. The fact that the woman was blind…it gave her the opportunity to do what I think all of the world should do for one another. If only we would simply close our eyes and listen with our hearts… that is where we can discover who a person truly is….it is not what our eyes see, it is what our hearts feel that truly should define a person for us. The world would be a much better place if we all would do that wouldn't you agree?

**Phantomsrogue:** Thank you dear for your review. "Little Sultana", I rather like that dubbing. I am trying desperately to create references to the prequel if you will, to the POTO story, without robbing any of her story, so I am taking a bit of a creative, though vague license to create a bit of a past for our dear Erik and Nadir. Oh, thank you for your trust in regard to why Crawlings is so important in the story. I am simply wiggling in my seat with that part of the story!

As far as the 'Pelican Brief', I don't mind Julia and in some things I actually like her, but I understand how a leading actor/actress can make one choose not to see a movie. I do not care for movies with Kirsten Dunst or Julia Styles, but sometimes the story line is just too good to miss the movie. I think you'd like 'Pelican' especially if you like Denzel…he does a great job in the movie…completely believable.

Music boxes…yes…there is something entirely haunting about the music from them, especially antique ones. When you lift the cover, turn the crank, whatever sets it in motion, it is like looking into the past…wondering who the first person was to receive it as a gift, what was going on in their life, was it a gift from one lover to another, a forbidden love, a gift from a father to a daughter, a gift from a far off soldier to his new bride that he had to leave behind…. Ahh…the mystery of it all. Music, and good literature links generation to generation…speaking to us with more than mere words…it is the feeling that is conveyed when one beholds it….that to me is the true essence of living, connecting.

The masquerade you refer to sounds completely wonderful. Now I suppose you could hold the knowledge of the web-site you refer to until I've returned your e-mail, it would only be fair! LOL! The mask, yes of course, it is the quintessential part of the ball, and one must choose wisely! Something about it being crafted in Venice…makes it all that much more intriguing!

I shall reply. I am a bit afraid to start dabbling in the 'Darker Side', but I was heartened by a recent conversation that I had with an old friend. She told me of a new book that is coming out, apparently on the top of the NY best seller list…. The two authors collaborated entirely by e-mail while they wrote the book! How fortuitous for her to have told me this just at a point when I wondered if we would be able to do this successfully! I shall find the name of the book she referred to so that I can share that with you! So take heart…there might indeed be hope for us to pull this off!

Oh, I was going to ask if you are planning to see 'Pride and Prejudice'? I can hardly wait…I only hope that they've done justice to the story…it is such a beautiful one! Now for a true confession, I've heard the calling of old literature once again….last week in my travels…I picked up a hard-cover of 'Great Expectations', a bit of an early birthday present for myself. Tonight I'm going home to a nice hot pot of tea, a fire, and a good book. I was able to get my holiday decorating nearly finished (yes…it is very early but I do love it so)…so by the light of the tree, the fire, the tea…I shall delve into the book…I am a bit tingly just thinking of it!

Bon Nuit mon cheri!

**WriterMuseoftheNight**: Interesting indeed…thank you for your comments. The woman I referred to is the maid at the Opera House that Nadir gave a letter to that she was to deliver to the undertaker on LeMortem Street. She is technically someone who has to do whatever Raoul asks, since he is the Patron of the Opera House and could have her removed of her duties if she didn't. So, because he had given instructions for the staff at the Opera House to do whatever Nadir asked of them, she feels obligated to deliver the note. And about the man, no, he not another Phantom, not at all. He is one of those people who are outcasts just because of their appearance, and what he did for a living at the Opera House. He was charged with making all of the props for the productions that included axes, swords, basically anything that would be used to injure or torture people. That made him less than desirable company for anyone. Then, given his rather gruff appearance, no one really wanted to associate with him, which is why he was a recluse in the lower cellar of the Opera House. You know how rumor begets rumor? Well, when no one could explain why or how the Phantom came into being, or how he was able to do the things he did and never get caught, people started gossiping that perhaps it was this employee who was making up an elaborate ruse just to taunt everyone else at the Opera House. Of course when the Phantom started to become more and more visible, and then finally appearing when Raoul started courting Christine, then everyone knew it was not a ruse cooked up by the "props man". Sort of a long explanation, but perhaps it helps understand why this man isn't really a part of the normal Opera House group that one would normally see.

Sebastian and Pyotr…they will have some explaining to do won't they? You see if Erphan discovers that the reason the carriage house was in such a disarray is because of all the stuff they have hidden there…..we'll you can imagine…and if he tells Erik….it could get rather interesting couldn't it!

Yes, our dear Lady C. The similarities are a bit uncanny aren't they? And what fell between them….I think I've told you this before…you are a rather clever one my dear!

Damnant quod non intellegunt - _They condemn what they do not understand_

**Nordygirl**: My dear N.G. …have you ever noticed how close your initials are to that of which our dear Phantom used to sign all of his communiqué O.G.? Hmmmmm…just a thought…a little too much caffeine on board I'm afraid! LOL! Yes, cliffhangers, name changes, and alter egos….I am an odd duck aren't I. The more complicated it becomes, the better I seem to like it, and the faster my mind works to interweave all of the different parts of the story together! I am glad that you are enjoying it…It is a story not for the faint of heart or the impatient I'm afraid!

Have a wonderful night!

**Musicofthenight13**: Thank you for the compliment on the story. It warms my heart to know people are still out their enjoying it with me….and believe me I could use some warming because it is 7 degrees Fahrenheit where I am today! Yikes! Now, as to when the babies will be born. As near as I can estimate, she will have those babies late September to mid October… I know Erik and Christine are both getting very excited about it! LOL!

Have a great night!

**PhantomFan1**3: Thank you…I rather enjoyed penning that chapter. I could nearly smell the peppermint tea she drank, and feel her heart break when she realized the old woman had died…. Yes…the thought of Claire seeing Erik….can you imagine the shock in her eyes! It would be like seeing a ghost! Yes, it is truly exciting to see which secret will finally make its way out into the open…or if some will remain forever a secret…. Laughs heartily as she walks off into the mist

Hope you have a good night!

**Faeriecatcher1**: Poor Erik…I agree. To have to wrestle with one's past like that. You see for as intelligent as Erik is, he's never had to try to deal with emotions the way that he has in recent months. If something was painful, he buried it in his mind, beneath layers and layers of haunting music, or released it on canvas or walls, or ceilings…..ahhh…perhaps we are on to something….why now…perhaps it is in part because as of late, he's not had any creative outlet…. Though he has loved spending time with Christine!

As to his deception with Christine, you are right, he is indeed very clever. He knew she would never agree if he told her…but he did technically keep his word. I think in the back of his mind, he also wanted her there just in case there was an opportunity for him to reunite she and Meg, even if for a brief time. He no doubt can tell that she has been missing her, and would love to see how she is doing, and to share of their good news. I think he's been considering that as well. His mind is always at work you know! They say that the greatest successes occur when preparedness and opportunity meet! No doubt this is a lesson that Erik has learned well over his lifetime!

Wishing you a most pleasant evening!

**SoaringSpirit27**: Welcome to the Phamily my dear! We hope your stay with us is a long and very happy one. It is humbling to know that you have been following the story….and further still that it brightens your day! You are most welcome, bows graciously, thank you for following along with this story! It is a great journey of hearts and lives that are intertwined, one that is so alive in my mind that I feel as if they were real people! I too worry about Crawlings, but something tells me there will be a proper dealing with this young man not far in the future, though by whom and how, I am not at liberty to say, lest I spoil it! Again, thank you for staying with this story, and for joining our little Phamily!

Now, as come to be tradition, we simply must have a go at that tag name of yours. SoaringSpirit27…… my first instinct is to think that you are an optimist at heart, always hoping for, and looking for the best in situations and people…27 could be your age…or maybe the last two digit of your phone number….perhaps the day of your birth…or yet another significant number the origins of which we will not know unless you are so kind as to tell us. The other thought I had about SoaringSpirit…perhaps you are of Indian heritage? I have a dear friend who is a direct descendant of Sitting Bull! No, I do not jest! So, please do share if you are so inclined. We love knowing something about our newly adopted Phamily members!


	157. The Returns of Place, Mind, and Beast

157 The Returns of Place, Mind, and Beast 

Erik made his way down the street, making use of what sidewalks had been cleared, and then mounting drift after drift. So many things flashed before his mind. He'd no doubt that by now Christine would be safe and sound at the woman's house. She would be safe there as long as Erphan followed his instructions diligently. There would no doubt be questions that he'd have to answer when he once again graced both ladies company, but for now he was simply thankful that he'd had somewhere for Christine to be safely stowed in the City.

Erik's eyes hungrily scanned every corner, every building that he passed. He'd only been viewed by a very few who were still awake at this hour. One having nodded to him, for surely they mistook him for a gentleman. No doubt the confinement suffered by those who were indoors since the storm was driving them mad. It had disrupted every sort of routine, making sleeping more difficult, when one had no physical exertion to tire them.

A frosty breath rose from him as he walked along the dark, deserted streets of Paris. So many things floated through his mind as he traveled alone there. He'd done so, more times than he could recall now. His night tours of the City had been done in the wee hours of the morning when only drunkards were about who would not be believed if they'd told tales of seeing a masked man roaming the city. Now, he'd a distance ahead of him to cover, and nothing but his thoughts to keep him company.

He paused, the crunch of the snow beneath his boots the only sound he could hear now. He stood taking in the sight of the great Cathedral. There was simply something about that structure, adorned in a cloak of virgin snow, it's light beaming for all the world to see. It was in a word, breathtaking. It stood as a testament to Paris. It was one of the structures he most admired in all of the city. It spiraled above the rest; reeking of elegance, strength and grace. He knew once it was in his sights, that the Opera House was not far off.

As he walked along the breadth of the structure, he was reminded how very infantisimal he was; how small they all were. The church had been there long centuries before he was born, graced by kings he'd only read of. The knowledge that it would be there long after breath left his lungs, reminded him just how very mortal he was. He gazed upon its fine features with more than usual admiration, for an architect's eye is far more critical. This he decided, was a perfect specimen. It was an example of the intelligence of men long dead, conveyed in tangible form, to those who were yet to be born. "Put love in your labor, and it will shine for the world to see." He said as he passed the staircase that led to the doors through which he'd never dared to walk. Perhaps someday.

His mind wandered off to Christine's dream. Though he could easily have done so, he would not permit it to carry him to a visualization of the scenes she had described in detail. He'd seen Nadir in compromised positions before, but never in the arms of a woman, and never without having first struck a killing blow.

He walked a bit faster now, as though the growing disdain for his thoughts fueled his gate. There had been far too much treachery involved in attempting to leave Persia, far more than either had ever imagined. They'd made a pact that last night before they'd fought their way out of that horrid city, that they shan't return, and shall always be present whenever the other truly needed them. That was the singular reason he was even now in Paris. He'd no want to make Christine travel in her condition. No want to risk everything they now enjoyed. No want to return to a city that was no longer home to either of them, whose inhabitants even now thought them both to be dead. No, he'd never thought to find himself in this City again for a great number of years if ever, but here he was, here they were. Erik was a man of his word, and he had promises to keep.

It wasn't long before he stood at the end of the cathedral, gazing up at the lighted bell tower, and the stained glass windows that shone brightly for all of Paris to see. In storms of every variety, it had served as a beacon of hope. No doubt this storm had been no different. For Erik, it was a reminder of the nights he sat on the roof of the Opera House looking down on the city that had been his home. Every night as he gazed down at the brilliant lights cast from the angels in that bell tower window, something soothed him. It was as if they were friends that greeted him each night that neither had hands to assist him, nor lips to speak to him, but he was certain they'd had ears to hear him….speaking, praying, pleading on all the sorrows of his heart.

Now he was seeing the City with much different eyes. He'd come to loath parts, and miss others, such as the seamstress that Christine sat with even now. He sighed, looking up at the tower once more before turning the corner and venturing up the street to the place he'd come for, the Opera House. Though he knew it would be most difficult to venture there once more, he reassured himself that he was there for one purpose only, and that was to rescue Nadir, and Meg. He could only hope he was not too late.

XXXXX

"Gentlemen, right this way." Raoul said as he escorted them into the study, pulling the pocket doors closed behind them quietly. Raoul made his way over to the oil lamp turning it up just slightly. The room was warm, his father having been there after dinner for a brandy, but had since retired to his room with a book. Raoul had no doubt that he was asleep now, for he'd not even risen when the wolves had come, nor by the subsequent shots that had been fired.

Nadir and the doctor took chairs on either side of the divan facing the fireplace. Raoul's hands were shaking a bit as he went to the decanter, lifting it and three cut-crystal glasses from the shelf. He carried it back to the table that sitting the glasses down, pouring a generous three-fingers for each man. The warmth would do them good, the numbing affect would do Raoul's nerves well. The last hour had been a bit more excitement than he'd cared for, and now the serious nature of the visit that the two men paid him was about to be made real to him, he'd need all the courage he could muster. He handed a glass to each man, sitting down on the divan.

"We best discuss what you have on your mind gentlemen. I dare say that you are both known well enough by me, so that whatever has brought you here on account of Crawlings shall not bode well for my household." Raoul took a stiff drink from the glass, looking back and forth between the two men.

Nadir looked at the doctor and nodded In truth it was he who'd a message to convey, Nadir had merely been an escort to the man, though he'd had interest in the matter where Meg and Madame Giry were concerned…and if his suspicions were correct, he could very well be protecting someone who may be very important to Erik in the coming years.

The doctor nodded back at Nadir, "very well." He turned facing Raoul. "You see the last innkeeper succumbed to the fate of the others, he died in my presence, his wife grieves for him even now."

"That is indeed most unfortunate for the poor woman." Raoul said, a bit perplexed, surely that was not the purpose of their visit.

"Raoul, it is that man's dying words that have brought me to your door step this night. I am afraid that he'd been quite unable to speak of it before, medication and pain ruled his mind. But in his last moments, his dying utterance gave me great cause for concern." He looked at Raoul…the last thing this young man needed was another reason for concern. But tell him he must. "Raoul, the man said that the last thing Crawlings spoke to him was that you were next."

Raoul's eyes grew wide. So that was it, that was what had brought him there that night, and surely Nadir had followed to protect Meg and Madame Giry, he'd no doubt of it, though he still was uncertain how the two of them had found one another. "I see," said Raoul as he rose, his breathing increasing. He walked to the window looking out at the fire that raged off toward the carriage house. He closed his eyes, it had been wolves, but it could have been that boy, and he'd paraded himself out on the veranda. "Has anyone any idea of the boy's whereabouts now, have you heard anything?"

Nadir looked at the doctor, he would tell what he knew to Raoul. "Raoul, before we departed I'd ventured over to the tavern across from the Opera House. I went to find the sleigh driver to tell him that we'd desired to return with him. He was just taking supper and I stayed but a moment. I must say that there was much talk about the boy in the tavern but none led me to believe that anyone had seen him. It is very likely he may very well be a great distance from here now, having thought wiser of it. Though I don't think we can be too careful now. We must assume you are in immediate danger and proceed accordingly."

Raoul looked back at Nadir, proceed in what way, he thought to himself. "How does one prepare for such a threat? It may be this hour or the next, or may never come to pass. I refuse to live in such a way. That does not mean that I've no intentions to protect my family, nor the ones that I love." He stood, a look of resolve on his face, his jaw set squarely.

"We should make immediate preparations to move Meg and her mother back with Elizabeth and Stephan. Meg and I in fact were just discussing her need to visit them soon, as she worries for them, and is feeling quite up to the trip now. Madame Giry had desired to stay in Paris until the Opera House reopened, but I am certain that she'd have no want to be separated from Meg just now. Yes, we shall prepare to move them on the morrow. In the meantime, I'll alert my staff to post additional men on the perimeter of the grounds surrounding the house. It is really all we can do until we've heard something one way or the other." Inside Raoul was already grieving. Not for himself, for it was the last of his concern. He grieved the thought of Meg leaving when they'd so much more they wanted to share with one another, so much more he wanted to tell her, to convey to her before they'd be separated for her period of consideration. He closed his eyes. He'd thought himself to be moving in haste that afternoon as he sat with her in that grotto, giving her his grandmother's ring. As the fates would have it, it had been fortuitous that he had, for none could have anticipated that the night would produce such a turn of events.

Nadir looked at the doctor. There was logic in Raoul's words, though he didn't know how such a thing could be managed without proper escorts, and surely Raoul could not spare that many of his staff. Nadir worried for a surprise visit from staff from Raoul's household. If they left the very next morning, he'd have no way to let Erik know of their impending arrival, and all that they'd worked to protect could be foiled in but a moment's time. No, surely there had to be some other thing to be done. Nadir had to think and think quickly.

The doctor rose, going to Raoul putting his hand on his shoulder. "I see you are thinking of the safety of those you care for Raoul, that is all very chivalrous of you, your mother would be most proud. But do spend time thinking of yourself, if not for your own sake, for that of your father, for Meg. If you are harmed or taken from them, it would grieve them beyond all reason. You must be safe. Perhaps it is time that you go for a trip yourself Raoul, perhaps you could accompany Meg and Madame Giry, I am certain they'd have no concern in returning your hospitality. It might be a very different household than your own, but perhaps it would do you well to be a distance from this city for a time."

Raoul was looking at the doctor, perhaps there was some rationale to the words that he spoke.

Nadir's heart was pumping with such force he'd thought he'd keel over from lack of oxygen. There could be nothing worse than the scenario the doctor suggested. Before he'd reasoned it through in his own mind, Nadir blurted out. "The Opera House sir, they should go to the Opera House."

Both men turned to look at Nadir with curious expressions. "What did you say Nadir?" Raoul said with a strange intonation in his voice.

"It makes perfect sense. The three of you, and myself, we could stay at the Opera House. There is nothing but a plethora of people at your disposal. It is quite a public place, likely the Crawling boy would have no way to penetrate such a structure unnoticed. Further still, if we occupy the level of the dormitories, Madame Giry and Meg could easily stay in the suite that is finished for her, Raoul, you and I could stay in the dormitories. It would be quite a perfect place for us to stay until we can be certain that he's not wandering about your woods, nor about the City. This would provide ample time to do as you suggest, making the preparations for your staff much less tedious, and making the transition for Meg and Madame Giry considerably easier." Nadir nearly gasped. It had rolled off his tongue just as his brain conceived it, though it was a plausible plan, and would allow Nadir several days time to figure out yet another way to keep Raoul from following Meg to Chauesser, or it would at the very least allow Nadir time to send an urgent messenger to Erik telling him of the goings on in Paris, in sufficient time for them to flee to Courtland Manor. Yes, it would work, but now the decision rested squarely on Raoul's shoulders.

Raoul stood looking at the doctor, and the doctor cocked his head nodding at Raoul. "There is much wisdom in what Nadir has suggested. It would prevent a long arduous journey just now, especially without knowing the boy's whereabouts. A long journey out on the road might very well play you or your loved ones right into the boy's hands."

Raoul raised an eyebrow. He hadn't thought of that. There was indeed much wisdom in Nadir's words, there was always the greatest safety in numbers. Raoul's mouth turned to a slight smile as he looked at Nadir. "You are a most wise man Nadir. I can see why you've such favor in Madame Giry's eyes. No doubt you've been a good and trusted friend. We shall do as you say. I'll fetch Madeline. She can begin making the necessary preparation for moving the ladies. The carriage master will need to be told of our intentions. Surely he can make some sort of covering for the sleigh so that we might travel obscured from view. We shall transport the ladies first, settling them in and then I shall arrive after. I've no intentions of putting them in harms way should I ride with them and be discovered. If you'll excuse me, I will…"

Nadir rose with Raoul. "Permit me Raoul, I will go to the carriage house, then I shall stop in the kitchens, alerting Madeline that you've some business to discuss with her."

Raoul nodded, he'd not mind having a moment alone with the doctor. "Thank you Nadir, you are a good friend."

"My pleasure sir." Nadir nodded in return. He'd see to it quickly. In truth he'd want a minute alone to scan the grounds. Something just felt out of sorts. It was not the wolves, it was not the discussion, it was something, a gut instinct perhaps, but something did not feel quite right. He shook his head as he walked down the hallway and out onto the back veranda.

The chill of the night air felt good against the heat of his face. Life had certainly become complicated these past months. He'd be Erik's friend until his dying day, he'd simply never anticipated that events would turn so for a man, and now a family that he'd come to love. He walked with swiftness to the carriage house, scanning the trees. He saw glimmers. He squinted his eyes, yes, several pairs, perhaps three or more. They had returned….the fire was a wise choice, for surely nothing living in that yard would have been safe this night, not with all manner of beasts on the prowl.

XXXXXXX

The woman led the man up the staircase to the main floor of the Opera House. They'd seen no others, surely they'd all retired for the evening. It was just as well she thought. She'd no desire to have to explain herself in the kitchens in the morning, for certainly they would ask all sorts of questions about the man, and of course there would be the gossip about her with the likes of him.

They made their way to the front doors, wandering through the grand foyer. The man stopped, taking it in. "This is most exquisite, I say they've done a right good job putting this back in order, it looks even better than it did before."

The woman turned around looking oddly at the man, "they've been done with this for weeks, perhaps a month even." She looked at him tilting her head slightly, this is the first you've seen of it?"

The man nodded as he stared at the ceiling but continued to walk towards her voice. "Yes, I'd not been needed, so I'd stayed in my quarters, reading…" He said as he wandered to her side, turning to take it all in. "I should think the Phantom would have been rather fond of it."

The woman's heart rose in her chest once more. "You…you knew him?" Her eyes were wide as though she were speaking of a ghost.

The man began to laugh, "knew him? I suppose in a manner of speaking, though our paths never directly crossed. He left me notes frequently when a production was about to begin. If my services were needed for this prop or that, he'd leave notes, sometimes detailed instructions as to weight or materials, or proper shaping. It was sometime unsettling since he'd critique the work I'd done, and I'd never left my quarters."

The woman looked at him, she found it odd that HE found something fearful in the Phantom, for surely he'd been rumored to fear no one. "You never saw him then?"

"No not directly, his silohette yes, though I'd recognize that flash of a cloak anywhere, for he and only he did it with such swiftness and skill. Each time I'd thought I'd perceived him to be near, a feeling would overcome me and I'd begin to investigate, moving in this direction or that, and sometimes, if I were fortunate, I'd see the tales of his cloak as he disappeared into the darkness."

The woman looked at him, indeed he'd known something of the Phantom. "And what say you then of the rumors that swirled about the gossip halls that you yourself posed as the Phantom?"

The man laughed again as they reached the few steps that led up to the door. "If one desires to be left alone, to not be bothered, rumors such as this work in your favor. I'd no desire to stop them nor deny them, it gave me the privacy I sought."

The woman merely nodded as they walked up the steps to the door. "Would you like to hold it, perhaps it would be safer in your care." She said, handing the envelope to the man again. In part she'd done so to alleviate her own fears. If they found themselves in a situation where she had to flee, perhaps he'd continue on and deliver the letter to the man. It was a selfish thing that she did, but this was no time to be brave she assured herself. After all she'd have to dine with him four Sundays in a row either way, so if she fled, it would give them something to discuss at their first dinner. She closed her eyes. She could scarcely believe she'd agreed to it, though she'd no doubt that she would find it a reasonable price once they'd reached the street to which they journeyed.

The man tugged at the door, it did not budge. He went from door to door, to no avail. They'd all been locked. "Do you know of where we might find keys Madame?" He looked at her rather hopeful she would know.

She shook her head. "No, I've no knowledge of them. Is there not another way that we could go?" She hoped he'd not suggest the service entrance as that would require them to walk through the employee dormitories, and draw the attention of all who still stirred.

He thought for a moment. "Ah yes, there is one door, one I know of that should be locked from the outside as it has no handle, but we shall be able to go out."

The woman smiled, but then thought, "and how are we to regain entrance? Surely we'll be back before morning arrives."

The man pointed her toward the back of the foyer just under the stairs. "Good woman, have you never heard of a brick? We shall place one in the doorway, from there we shall be able to re-enter upon our return. And yes, we shall be gone no more than two hours, provided we are not detained."

She shuddered. Surely if they encountered anyone on the streets of Paris at this hour it would not be for good purpose. For surely none would willing go out on a night like this, not after a storm. For the police did not patrol after a heavy snow, and surely if there ever was a time ripe for the criminal element, it would be on a night like that very night.

XXXXX

Christine followed the woman down the dark corridor, Erphan following closely behind her trying to hold the single lamp at sufficient height to light the way for Elizabeth.

"Here we are young lady, this I understand is the nicest of the three, most brides prefer it to the others. I only know that it is the largest, and that there is a rather nice chair that sits in the corner. It is also by far the warmest, a good thing on a night such as this one. Do go in young man, make yourself useful and light the lamp for her won't you?"

Erphan went in, removing the cover from his lamp, touching it to the wick of the other lamp, turning the handle and replacing the dome.

"Now do follow me young men, perhaps you'd prefer to share a room, if not, there are two here."

Christine heard Erphan say that it would be fine for them to be in the same room, and then follow the woman off down the hall to collect the wood.

Christine looked around the room. It was beautiful. Colorful long yards of silken fabric draped together adorned every wall, making one feel as if they were inside a royal tent. The corners were ornamented with golden cherubs who each held a challis that the twists of fabric seemed to flow from like liquid rainbows. In each corner stood a brass pedestal. On them, statues of Grecian goddesses; each as beautiful as she had ever laid eyes upon. The floor itself was covered in a large rug, Persian, Christine could tell simply by the quality and colorings. She paused, there at the center of the room, against the wall, was an elaborate gilded mirror of a size Christine had only ever seen at the Opera House. She'd no doubt an entire family could stand before it and see one another, no doubt its very purpose.

She paused once more, if ever there was something she'd learned to save for last, it was the ceilings that Erik painted. They were truly masterpieces. She exhaled closing her eyes. Tilting her head back slowly opening her eyes as she inhaled. The ceiling did not disappoint. It was covered in doves, white, each with a fresh yearling sprig in their grasp. Mixed among them were cherubs with bows in their hands, others with hearts, and yet others with golden bands. Behind them was painted a backdrop of the most beautiful blue sky, making each of the other things all the more spectacular. Christine smiled, no doubt this ceiling, this room, had provided much happiness to many young women who were about to make the greatest commitment of their lives. True love was only furthered when a heart soared, and she'd no doubt this room had seen many moments such as those.

It would be a good room for her. One where she could feel the very presence of her husband, her angel, for his hands had touched those walls, painted the ceilings, his very breath had been shed there. Something about that knowledge made it all the more comforting to tarry there.

She sat down on the rather generous divan. Erphan was coming down the hall with an armful of wood, and the other young man quickly followed. He went to the hearth immediately setting about building a fire for Christine. "I'm to tell you to join the woman in the room at the end of the hall when you are feeling settled. I believe she is brewing some tea. We shall be fine without it, should she offer, could you politely decline for us?"

Christine nodded, she would. No doubt the young men were tired, and they knew a long journey lay ahead of them again on the morrow, so rest would be a welcome friend for them this night. Erphan nodded as the fire took hold. "We shall be in the room just next, do call on us if you should be in need of anything, anything at all Madame Courtland."

Christine nodded. "Good night Erphan, sleep well." He smiled at her and departed.

Christine made her way down the hallway. She could smell the jasmine before she'd even entered the room. It was large, with gray walls and ceiling. It was full of bolts and bolts of fabric, a small cot lay off to the side in the corner. Surely, Christine hoped, this was not where the woman slept!

"Do come in child," the woman said peering out at Christine from behind a row of bolted fabric. She was digging about it with great interest. She finally pulled a bolt out, "yes, this is the one." She said walking over toward the large working table that lay at the center of the room, putting the bolt down on it before she came to rest in the chair, motioning for Christine to do the same. "I hope you do not mind jasmine child."

Christine shook her head, and thought better of it, "no mum, it is one of my favorites." Christine's comment making the woman smile. "It is very well then that I selected it isn't it?" She said with a laugh as she poured a cup for Christine. "Here," she said holding out a cup and saucer in Christine's general direction. Christine rose to take it and thank the woman.

"Now child, what is it that troubles you?" She said taking her first sip of tea. "Something troubles you my dear, I can sense it. Some burden lays heavy on your heart. Your husband would tell you that it is much better to speak of such things than to hold them in. They eat at your mind until they drive you quite mad." The woman smiled at her. "I think you'll find I'm a very attentive listener, not easily distracted. Do go on."

Christine could hardly speak of what truly worried her. She worried for Erik, she worried for Meg, she worried for Nadir. She simply said, "I am but a new bride, married several months only. I tend to worry whenever my husband is away. Truly, he brought me with him to the City only after much protest on my part about being left alone, though I'm altogether certain he'd have preferred I stay at home." Christine felt a bit of relief. It was not at all untrue, so she could state it with certain conviction.

"It is a good thing to miss one another my dear, it serves to remind us how very much the other means to our heart." The woman smiled as she smoothed her hand over the length of black velvet she'd unbundled on the table. "Yes, this is his favorite." She ran her hand over and over it. "Child, after you've finished your tea, you best be off to rest, as your room should be warm soon. We shan't have your new husband find you depleted and entirely worn when he comes to retrieve you."

Christine smiled, the woman was right, truly Erik would not approve of her becoming exhausted, though she knew she shan't rest for her mind would not permit it…there was too much she did not know, and far more that she worried might have come to pass. She watched the woman methodically arrange the fabric, and begin the careful process of cutting it.

Truly it was something of a miracle that the woman could do this at all. Christine was as curious as she could possibly be, but she shan't embarrass the woman by asking her. She sat a few minutes more, finishing her tea. As she rose, the woman rose towards her. "Do rest well child, your bridegroom has left you in capable hands my dear, you've nothing to fear here."

Christine blinked, she'd not thought of herself to be in danger, and indeed she wouldn't have or Erik would never have agreed to send her there. "Thank you for the tea, and your most gracious hospitality Madame, I shan't be able to thank you enough." The woman nodded as Christine wandered off to what would be her room for but a few hours.

XXXX

The pair had followed a passage that led behind the stairs of the grand Opera House Foyer. The woman had known that beneath the stairs there were a great many props stored, that were far to large or well constructed to be store in any other place intact. Though she'd never had reason to venture there, she was certain that it was merely a storage space and nothing more.

The man pushed open the doors discretely painted as topiaries, leading her in, closing the door behind them. It was as black as pitch, and for one fleeting second, she held her breath, terror lapping at her mind once more. He reached out and took her by the hand, making her instinctively shudder.

"Good woman, do not worry, there are no lights here to guide us, but trust me, I know the way quite well." His grasp was neither threatening nor too affectionate, it was simply a grasp of flesh on flesh, and nothing more. He led her around a maze of objects of varying shapes and sizes, some having to be climbed over, some ducked under. He carefully guided her through the labyrinth until they came to an abrupt stop. She could hear him pushing something aside and then the sound of a door being opened, whose hinges had been rusted from weather and lack of use. She saw her first glimmer of light, though very faint.

"Now dear lady, duck your head lest you be struck squarely by the low overhang just outside." She did as he bid her, being quite surprised to find them outside. The small area that she stood in waiting for him to prop the door open was entirely devoid of snow, and she could only see a sliver of light just at the end of it, surely a drift covered the very place they were, and they'd have to make their way out of it. This had not been part of the plan in her mind, though in truth it may serve her well, none would ever be looking for them there. The man walked passed her, giving her a cursory glance to make sure she was none the worse for wear. He took a rather large stick and began to pick at the snow covering just where the light shown in.

"Where are we…what part of the Opera House is this?" The woman ventured.

He glanced over his shoulder, surely she'd not want conversation as well when they'd need to be quite. "It is the center, a small courtyard is found just beyond this, and beyond that, a tunnel that leads to the back of the Opera House."

He returned to his digging as he spoke. "Few know of its existence. It was built as a safe hold for dignitaries and the like in case situations arose that required their swift departure. There is one other entrance from inside a dressing room, that is what was used for escorting them out. This particular porticos was built for the staff that had to attend to those being held there, for certainly they could not flee alongside them."

He groaned as he pulled a rather large sheet of ice down into the space where they stood. There was now sufficient opening for them to crawl through. He climbed the snow, looking out as he stood on the crust. He could see the light far above him, shining down through the chimney-like opening that led to the roof.

Kneeling down looking back at the woman he said, "I've a place to clear on the other side now for us to go out through the tunnel. Do you wish to remain where you are, or would you prefer…"

She interrupted him. "I think I shall stay where I am if you'd not mind at all." He did not.

Without a word he moved to the other side, some twenty feet away. She could hear him digging in earnest. She'd nothing to do but listen and wait. She heard the man pause, start again, pause once more, and start yet again. Then he stopped, she heard him gasp, and scurry back across the snow, dragging the branch along with him, diving in through the opening. He nearly toppled her as he grabbed her about the shoulders and pushed her to the farthest corner, covering her mouth lest she scream.

Her eyes were wide with wonder. The terror in her heart returning with a vengeance, now, she was certain she was but a dead woman walking, and her body never to be found again.

"Shhh, he whispered to her." Her heart was pounding so hard in her chest that she thought she'd faint. As quietly as he could, he whispered "there is something making its way through the tunnel, perhaps it is an animal, but we shall wait here silently until we are certain that it is gone." He looked at her in the near blackness, "do you understand?"

She shook her head, and he removed his hand from her mouth. "Why do we not simply go back through the door…"

The man scowled at her, "did you not hear the creaking? If it is not an animal, do you have want to draw attention to our whereabouts?" She shook her head. "If it is someone, I do have means to defend us, do not worry, they shan't know we are here until it is too late for them."

The pair stood crouched in the back of the small area for a long while, listening as they could hear something scratching, digging at the snow, and at last a final thrust as the sheet of ice that covered the opening was broken. The woman's breath caught in her chest. The man moved slowly over to the opening peeking out. The woman watched with what moon light shone on the man's face, as a horror overtook him, his jaw dropping as he slowly began to back away, the knife in his hand nearly falling out as his arms went limp. He was slowly backing away from the opening, to the furthest recesses of the other side of the opening, daring not to cross back into the shaft of moonlight that entered their hiding place.

The woman was in shock. Whatever could it have been that would have frightened such a man so? She heard a scuffling about and the crunch of snow as if under the boots of a man. The light at the small opening slowly shadowed and disappeared, but before all light vanished, she saw what she would later imagine to be the workings of a terrified mind, a long tale of a black cloak fluttering in the wind that now began to howl through from the outside. She shuddered, closing her eyes. Surely she knew she was in a horrific dream, a nightmare so profound that it seemed real, for surely a mere maid would not find herself in the present circumstances. She held her eyes tightly closed as she listened to the snow falling in, someone kneeling at the opening, and then…and then it was gone.

The pair stayed in their respective places for what seemed to be an eternity before the man ventured over to the woman. He took her into his arms whispering as faintly into her ear as he could, "we shall stay here for a half-hour's time, then we shall venture back into the Opera House. We shall have to find another way out."

The woman not at all frightened by the man's touch now, turned her cheek to speak in his ear, "what was it, who was it." She could feel the man stiffen.

"I cannot be certain, my eyes could have deceived me, but I think I would recognize that silhouette anywhere…" he paused swallowing hard, "I believe, though it shan't be possible…it was the Phantom!"

The woman shuddered, nearly dropping to her knees. All knew what happened to those that surprised the Phantom…and none wanted a part of it…but it couldn't be…it simply could not be….he'd been gone so very long…he'd taken the object of his obsession, all thinking that to be the last they'd ever see of him….it simply could not be. If he were there once more, to possess the Opera House once more….where was Christine? She shuddered…surely not he…

They stood in silence for a period of time. Being certain that they'd heard nothing further, they ventured back through the door and into the belly of the Opera House. They'd find another way, though not as discrete, it would have to suffice. Now it was later yet, making the journey ahead even more unpleasant, though they doubted anything further could frighten them more.

XXXXX

Erik waited until he heard the door creak closed. He'd held his body pressed up along the smooth side of the brick waiting and listening. He'd no idea who would be coming out of the Opera House by this means, or at this time, but he'd no wish to encounter anyone. He wanted simply to slip in, check the rooms beyond the lake, and return to Christine, trying not to think of anything else but of his sole purpose here. It would be far too easy to be distracted, drawn back in to such a place. An eerie feeling had already overcome him simply being back in the City. He'd no illusion that the underground grotto would be any less unnerving. He slid himself into the hole that had been made. He'd tarry here until he'd be assured that whomever it was that had ventured out would have gone. This was a game he knew well, and he could play his part to perfection.

**Author's Notes:**

**Dear Faithfuls**: A much longer chapter than I first intended, I simply had to get all of the characters to a certain point. I've had a few Phamily members ask me several questions, that I think might be of interest to everyone, so I thought I would include the answers here.

First, the man that is referred to thus far as the "prop" man for the Opera House, is not living in the Phantom's former lair. He is really only a few levels down in the Opera House. He is the one that was in charge of making swords, axes, guillotines, ball and chain, whatever sorts of weapons or items of torture were required for production, he had to make them look real, but not be real. Erik seemed to have taken a bit of fascination with the man's work, and even this obscure character did not escape Erik's critique. If something was unusual or didn't look quite right when it was done, the Phantom dropped him a little note letting him know what to do to correct his error. Now most people in the Opera House didn't like the man, nay feared him, first of all because of the work he did with seemingly such pleasure, and because he was a bit of a recluse. He was something of a bat, working around the Opera House at night. He had learned early on that the others in the Opera House didn't care for his physical appearance, so it all seemed to fit together quite well. It makes further sense, that he would know about the storage space beneath the stairs since he would likely have stored things there himself.

O.K., the answer to what month it is. It is the end of March, just several weeks before the celebration in Chauesser. So one can only imagine what activity will be going on there very soon!

As to when the babies are due. That is likely October, or there about. Unless there are complications or she runs overdue…one just never knows with babies…they come when they are ready!

As for the inclusion of yet another person to the story. Well, the clothing thing was one explanation of course. But I also wanted to add another softening dimension to Erik's character. He'd known so much cruelty in his life because of his physical deformity, it made sense that someone who was blind could have been the only person who would have treated Erik with utter indifference because of his appearance. She was able to see the man, the soul. No doubt this is where he learned a bit of compassion, a bit of the good things he has in his heart from this lady. It is true we only learn what we know by example, and someone after all had to model that for him, or he'd not have known true compassion. Also, health wise, I simply could not believe that he only lived in the cellars of the Opera House. If he did not venture out, for days at a time, he would have succumbed to pneumonia or something worse. He needed to breath fresh air!

There. Hope that helps a bit, and sets a few things in order. Do ask questions though whenever you wonder! Sometimes I can answer them….sometimes, for the sake of the story I cannot. But there is no harm in asking!

**Captainoblivious**: Have you not heard the old saying "patience is a virtue"! LOL! I know it is frustrating to wait for a part of a plot to be resolved, but their venture back into Paris wasn't likely to be uncomplicated, and the next few chapters will surely explain why the slow progress in dealing with Crawlings. I hope all will be forgiven once this part of the story is solved. As to the paintings…yes he'd been admiring her for a long while, and for him, there was but one outlet for his feelings, at least at first. He could hardly write music of love for a little girl…that would have been far too strange.

Good to hear about Rob. It makes me like him all the more! Not that my opinion really matters…but somewhere out in cyberworld…know that I am wishing for the best for you! Perhaps a Christmas Holiday romance will be brewing? You mentioned months ago how you wanted someone of your own to hold….perhaps wishes really do come true!

Have a wonderful weekend my dear!

**Phantomsrogue**: My what a long review my dear sister! Yes, the wedding dress…it was one I could see in my mind's eye, just as Erik saw Christine in it when he'd finally painted it. You can understand why he had to stop there…that his heart could bare it no longer…for he couldn't imagine life without her, or with her…his heart would allow neither!

Ah yes, music boxes….there is something indeed whimsical about them isn't there! The pure unadulterated simple tapes of metal on metal, playing a tune. It is rather like listening to a crystalline voice singing 'Avia Maria'. (That is another story in itself…one I shall share with you at Christmas time!) I've never thought of having the San Francisco Music Box Company build one for me…ohhh my goodness…can you imagine a fine lacquered onyx piano….playing….oh my breath catches just thinking of it… 'Music of the Night'…..ahhhh….picks self up off of floor after fainting Oh my, another item for my Christmas list! LOL!

You know, I didn't mind Kirsten when she was younger. Some of her youthful roles, such as in 'Little Women', were actually quite good. She played the perfect snobbish, bratty child, just as she did in 'Interview'. I have to admit, I did tolerate her in 'Wimbeldon', though I think Paul Bettany deserved a better co-star. Anyway….I've gotten side tracked!

Ah yes, 'Pride and Prejudice', not many have read the book and understood it fully. It is complex and riveting, and the language, well, let's just say a modern Webster's Dictionary might not be of much help. You'll probably have to go on line and find a better resource. But once you get into it, you might just find yourself speaking rather strangely! It is a large undertaking, but if the story hooks you, you might read it again and again, and…yes, again. I am looking so forward to the movie, though with a bit of apprehension, lest they not do it justice. I think Kiera Nightly should make a good Elizabeth Bennett though.

Darn, 'The Mists of Avalon', I knew there was something I forgot to look for on Amazon!

Bon Nuit mon cheri! Pouvoir le weekend vous amène le beaucoup de plaisir et repose chere soeur ! (Good night my dear. May the weekend bring you much pleasure and rest dear sister!)

**MusicoftheNight13**: Again I blush…you are all too kind. The month, late March….the perfect time for those unpredictable winter storms….but thankfully all will begin to melt soon!

Have a great weekend!

**WriterMuseoftheNight**: Thank you for your understanding about the clothes. It just bugged me. He couldn't make them that well himself, and I just couldn't see our beloved Phantom bent over needlework…LOL! It is the little nit-picky things in story lines like that which drive me crazy! Yes, Madame Giry would have been able to get that for him, but I think people would have wondered who she was getting all this men's clothes for if she was a widow!

Yes, the paintings. I'm afraid that some might have viewed them as yet another detour…to me, they add yet another layer to this complex man we've all grown to love. Yes, I am certain that it was love at first sight…or at least there was some sort of intangible connecting of souls…that grew over time, into a great love…ahhhh…I've gone and gotten all sentimental on myself again! ;-)

Erik back in his old persona….it was a complicated dance. He is no longer that creature, though it does lurk just below the surface, resurfacing when it is needed, though we can see he has to fight it coming and going…poor Erik! But you are right, if that life is to become part of his past, just as his life in Persia did, then he has to deal with it swiftly so that it does not overtake the life he is trying to live now…especially since it impacts far more people this time.

Yes, Lady C…a description would be good, though now a bit premature…but suffice it to say, even at her age, she is a strikingly beautiful woman!

Nisi credideritis, non intelligetis - _Unless you will have believed, you will not understand. (St. Augustine)_

**Nordygirl**: You are a talented one! Perhaps you should consider writing jingles for a living! LOL! By the way, I don't consider myself odd…I am unique…that has a much better ring to it don't you think? I didn't think too many would mind seeing a bit more of Erik's admiration for our dear Christine! Have a wonderful weekend my dear!

**SilverRains871**: I smile thinking of you falling off your chair when the furnace starts! Not that I am sadistic or anything, for I am not, I can simply picture it in my mind! LOL! Actually, having your computer in the basement isn't all that unfortunate. If you like to read dark stories, such as POTO, I can imagine no better a setting! I love to write and read by candlelight, so a basement, where all the world was shut out, might be just perfect for me! Though my library does had shutters on the windows, and a large vertical blind drawn across the door leading out to the veranda.

Yes, Erik is a tough nut to crack. Though he keeps rationalizing in his mind that now especially that she carries his children, that she can be trusted with everything there is to know about him. But…he has never truly trusted anyone…and this sort of thing takes time. When one is abandoned when they are young, it changes something in their psyche that is never normal again….a major roadblock to ever building a true trust with anyone. Though he is a brilliant man, and we can be sure that Christine's constant love and devotion will help him crack and heal, for lack of a more visual term.

Have a great weekend Kate!

**Diveprincess**: I love that quote of MLKJ myself. It has on occasion prompted me to do things that I didn't think I had courage to do…but I was not going to be the memory of the silent friend… A friend, a true friend, is never silent when they feel the other person is being persecuted or hurt…a true heart simply cannot permit it.

Thank you for your kind words about my father. I've learned so much since his death…it was ten years ago. I feel still connected to him, especially around this time of year. You see when he was alive, he was a rather jovial man, sporting a nearly white beard year round. So as soon as the first flurries started to fall, children began looking at him and nudging their parents with question "is that Santa Claus?" To which he took great pleasure. For you see in our tiny town, he did indeed play Santa Claus to private families and for various charity functions. He had a beautiful red velvet suit with a white faux fir collar, the big black boots, the round spectacles, and the whole nine yards. He had a rather thick middle, which in later years he didn't need to pad, and a rather bulb like nose…one just like you'd imagine Santa to have. And yes, the twinkle in his eye…he was always full of mischief…I suppose that is where I got it from. Anyway, this time of year always makes me think of him, but now I can do so without the pain….I can recall all the wonderful years we spent together…and I remember that this was absolutely his favorite time of the year. I didn't mention, though I feel compelled to now…the night he had his heart attack he had just arrived at his house after one of his Santa stints at a local charity…he'd had his dinner and was watching a special on homeless children on the Tele… his wife told me that she'd seen him crying for the children just moments before she'd seen what she believed, fall asleep. Somehow it comforts me to think that God was watching him as he took his last breaths….and he did not find him in a selfish moment….he was thinking of someone else when he went home to meet his maker….

**PhantomFan13**: HP indeed will cause quite a flurry of activity at theaters around the world tonight!

Yes, I have hopes that she will be well received…she is an important piece of the puzzle of Erik's venture into humanity….

Have fun at the movie…and don't eat too much popcorn!

**LadyWinifred**: Poetic, why yes you are! Thank you for the compliment on the many women in Erik's life. Someone this handsome, both physically and mentally would certainly attract women from the far corners of the earth! Now of course I'm thinking utterly of Erik as embodied by our lovely Gerard! He seemed to feel more comfortable with women, other than Nadir. Perhaps it was because a woman had been his sole companion for the first six years of his life…hmmm…

Not yet awake, I understand. Wa lah not that I really have any magical powers, but if I did, you'd have seen a beautiful china cup, perhaps from the cobalt blue collection at the winter house, appear on the desk in front of you. The contents? Café Ole of course! No? Perhaps a demitasse of espresso? No…not even a sugar cube? Well, drats…I don't have any powers…but we can tell I have had waaayyyy too much caffeine today, perhaps enough for both of us! LOL!

Have a wonderful weekend my dear!

**SoaringSpirit27**: Why yes, you are right it is my favorite song! I appreciate your name even more now…what a wonderful choice! Let our spirits soar indeed…. Thank you for your kind words in regard to our story. It has been such a blessing for me to share this with others out in cyberspace. I have loved the POTO story for so long, and to be able to find an outlet that allows for me to create a much different ending…..it was like a gift from heaven itself! I am so glad you decided to join our little Phamily…and I hope the future chapters provide you with many smiles!

Have a great weekend soaring spirit…let that light shine…you never know who's day you might brighten along the way!

**Passed Over**: My dear, I've thought about your words all night. I cannot explain how my heart goes out to you. You see, I myself fell head-over-heels in love with the man. Now, I too am a rational creature, and knew that there was no way that he would ever even know my name, or that I'd ever lived…but love him I did anyway. It was this fond affection that started me writing this crazy story, for once I saw him as Erik…the Phantom simply HAD TO HAVE a different ending. I cannot tell you how many things changed in my life because of this revelation…but suffice it to say I felt alive for the first time in a great long while….and the possibility of love grew in my heart in a way it hadn't in what seems like forever….though I always hoped my heart hadn't died….though it felt like it had.

I sense in you a very kindred spirit…we adore a man whom neither of us will ever possess…so we can say we admire him from afar. Now I don't mean this in a crazy stalker-like way, but in an admiration of a man who is genuine, talented, and has a quality about him that is very attractive, and hard to describe. We can only hope that there are others out there like him. Just last night as I was walking through my house, lights all off with the exception of my Christmas trees and the numerous Dickens Village houses I have, looking at all of my hours of holiday decorating that I've done…listening to some rather melancholy Christmas music, I decided that this would be the last holiday season that would find me in this big old house alone…single…life is simply too short to spend alone….no matter what age we are…there is love out there for all of us! Do take heart my dear. If love is not dead in your heart….it is possible in your life. If our dear Gerard has woken that deep love in your heart, it means that all hope is not lost…it might simply be hiding! As long as you have breath, you are not passed over….simply yet to be discovered. A jewel that will make someone very, very, happy.

Our dear Madame Giry…yes…though it will not be an easy road, she will find herself in a most suitable place, one where she feels fulfilled…and most importantly…content.

Good night my dear…sleep well…and may your dreams be of the most splendid kind!


	158. Images of the Mind

Chapter 158 Images of the Mind 

Erik's heart pounded. He'd wrestled with his thoughts. It was not possible that anyone had gone in that same way, for he'd seen no evidence of it when he made his way up to the back of the Opera House. No, whomever had been at that door, had been on their way out, and whoever it was, quite obviously did not know the Opera House well enough to know that they could have made their way out the way he'd come in, or…perhaps they in fact did, but his arrival made them retreat. Whatever the case had been, Erik was grateful that there had not been an encounter there. If it was that Crawlings boy attempting to flee the Opera House, then Erik's arrival was already too late, in which case the carnage in the cellars below would be certain.

Erik pressed his eyes closed. He'd no choice now but to wait. He slid down crouching against the wall. He'd wait silently, on the outside, but inside his mind and heart, everything screamed for attention at once, so much so that he could pay no real attention to any of it. He sat in silence, the inhaling and exhaling of his lungs the only thing he focused on, for in that moment, it was all he had control over.

XXX

The man and woman made their way swiftly back to the foyer of the Opera House, nearly tumbling out of the doors. The man quickly closed and latched them behind them. They were both entirely out of breath.

"Let us not speak of this to anyone dear lady, lest they think us to be quite mad." The woman nodded. They stood a moment looking around to be certain their rather abrupt arrival had not been detected. None stirred there, they were safe now to find another exit. Just where that would be, and if they'd have the courage to venture out-of-doors if truly the Phantom was once more at the Opera House, was in question.

The cost would be great if any heard rumor that the Phantom had returned; it could be ruinous for the Opera House. Both were employees, indeed had made their homes there. If a rumor would start it would not be with them. It may have been nothing more than a coincidence, and neither were going to cast their hats into the fire to make the assumption that it was he. Though it did now provide much for them to speak of when they had dinner on Sunday, they'd already decided, a proper discussion of the events would wait until then. The focus now was finding a way to deliver that envelope to LeMortem Street and return alive to tell of it.

XXX

Erik raised his hand to his face. He'd not thought of his flesh in days, but now the thought of being back there once more, made the memories fly past him as though a flood gate had been opened. He ran his fingers carefully along the line where his skin had been pulled and sutured. It was smooth, and he could detect nothing different about it from the other cheek. It had been a miracle of medicine, though it had already, and would continue to take much thought to become comfortable with it.

His mind floated back, far back to when he'd truly realized he was different than all others he saw. He'd always been kept indoors, it was often dark, save a candle or two lit here and there. No mirrors were permitted, in fact he'd never seen one until he'd gone with they gypsies. He'd known no other life. It was one evening after the sun had set that he, and a woman went out for a walk, and he'd seen other children on their way home with their parents. He recalled inquiring where his parents were. Erik squeezed his eyes tightly as the pain of the memory flooded his mind, he hadn't thought of it for years.

"Children like you do not have parents that is why you are with me, and why we venture out only after dark. You have a face that would frighten the world, that is why we stay in. Learn to be your own companion. Learn to love a life spent alone. Hope for no other life, for it shan't be yours."

He recalled with clarity it was a woman's voice who'd spoken to him those horrid words…they had shaped the remainder of his days….hope of no other life…that is all he'd ever done since that very day. Any life was preferable to the one he'd had to live as a recluse, ashamed that he even had breath.

His hand slipped from his face down to his lap. He was certain that it had been sufficient time, he needed to go in…to go back in… The place he'd fled months before, with Christine at his side, willingly sacrificing everything she'd ever known to be with him, to love him as she'd always wanted. Sharply in his mind the words he'd sung to her floated through, "close your eyes let your spirit start to soar, and you'll live as you've never lived before….open up your mind your let your fantasies unwind in this darkness you know you cannot fight, the darkness of the music of the night. Let your mind start to wander to a strange new world, purge all thoughts of the life you knew before, let your soul take you where you want to be….only then can you belong to me." He sighed, she had sacrificed everything to be with him. It proved to be the first pleasant thought that he'd had in over an hour. She had loved him in every way possible, and she would soon bear fruit to that love. He had found love, and for the first time, he did have hope. Hope of a far better life than he might have ever known.

Some of the best things that happened to him were done quite without his permission, and had taken him quite off guard. Such as when he'd first beheld Christine. She was a lovely young girl whose heart was broken in two. He could help her, he knew that he could, because he indeed shared a similar struggle. It was only when he'd been able to provide much needed advice or helped someone in some way that he did not feel a burden, the scourge of society. In those moments he felt alive.

He exhaled, pushing his eyes tightly closed. Erik held his breath for a few seconds his mind making a mental shift. He needed to muster all of his strength, all of his courage. He'd very soon know if her dream had proven to be correct…he prayed it had not.

He inhaled deeply, standing tall, he stretched to his full height, and then a bit more. He felt his hands instinctively rise and grasp the top of his cloak, sliding down into position on the edges of the fabric. He opened his eyes, lowering his gaze. He dug in his left heel into the virgin earth, spinning on it to face the door, his cape flowing around him in a flourish. He was ready. Ready to face whatever it was that he would find in the depths of the Opera House.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Nicole woke, she'd heard whispers, though it must have been her imagination. As she fought her way out of her sleep so felt the space where her mother had lain, it was empty. She was about to call out for her when she heard the voices again. It had not been her imagination It was her mother and the physician. They were speaking, no doubt over by the warmth of the fireplace. Thought they spoke quietly, thinking her to be asleep, she could barely make out their words. At some point she wished she were still asleep for what she heard grieved her soul.

The doctor slid his stethoscope from beneath her nightdress. "I'm afraid that there has been no change. I know you feel better after your rest, but my earlier diagnosis remains Madame."

The woman exhaled. "But I feel the same, though a bit more tired as of late, the same as I have all of my life. How is it that you are so very certain of your prognosis?"

The young man closed his eyes tightly as he put the instrument back into his bag. His youth had made so many question his diagnosis, as if his age somehow made him less capable of finding the truth. "Madame, no man, nor woman, knows the hour of their death, it is in God's hands. What I share with you is based on all I learned in school, that of which I've observed in others. I tell you the truth, the truth as I know it to be. There is always opportunity that I may be wrong, I'll acknowledge that."

The woman inhaled, a hopeful smile crossing her face. He put his hand on her shoulder. "I'm quite sorry, not about the diagnosis, but about the length of time. That is up to God. I can tell you only based on how your heart sounds, and what I have seen. Now if you are diligent, and have half the fight in you that I think you do, it is feasible that you could live a bit longer….however let me emphasize, your heart is weakened, weakened to the point it beats like that of a ninety-year-old woman."

The woman began to sniffle, she wanted so badly to believe she'd be alive well after her daughter married, had children, settled into a married life before she'd be left alone.

The doctor offered, "Nicole still rests, would you like something to rest, I could…"

The woman declined, shaking her head side to side. "No….do tell me…you listened to Nicole's heart…this I am certain was the caused by the fever I'd had as a child….her heart…it is not…"

The woman's ignorance of medicine shown through. How would she have known otherwise? The doctor thought to himself. He soothed her shoulder. "No, one cannot pass this on to another, a mother to child. It is something that attacked your heart when you became ill as a child. It is not something that was part of how you were created. Do not worry, Nicole's heart is fine, at least her physical heart." The doctor and woman both knew what he meant.

The woman looked down fumbling with her hands. "I do worry for her. I no doubt will one day become a burden for her. We've no relatives to go to, she will be quite alone when…"

The doctor interrupted. "I've posed a solution to Nicole, and if she and you are willing, I'd like to be of assistance to the both of you." The woman began to protest, that is not why she'd mentioned it. "No dear lady, let me explain. You see many years ago, before I'd even thought of going to medical school to be a physician, I'd come to Chauesser to pay a visit to my grandfather. I'd in fact thought of becoming an undertaker much to the disappointment of my grandfather; he thought it to be a waste of my intelligence. It was then that he offered the funds for me to go on to be a physician, payment in full he said, if I'd agree to study to be a physician, and make one additional promise."

The woman looked up at him, now quite distracted by his story. "I'd had to promise that the first year that I practiced as a physician would be here, in this city. So you see I shall be here this entire year. Now, the bargain that I've struck with Nicole is that I shall be of help to the both of you, if you'd welcome me into your family in that way, and in exchange, she shall help me to learn of the people of Chauesser so that I might better the handling of their needs. This in fact is what my grandfather had intended to do. I was to practice my first year under his watchful eye, and his sage guidance. So you see, we can all be of assistance to one another." The doctor smiled at the woman, "you see that way we will all be equally indebted to the other, none in the end owing the other."

He hoped as he looked into the woman's searching eyes, that she sensed his sincerity, and that she would feel that this was an equitable bargain. He knew he would bare the greatest of the burden and expense as the medicines the woman would require toward the end were of considerable cost.

The woman thought carefully, then she said, "if Nicole is willing, let it be as you have said." She smiled at him, then glanced over at Nicole. "She is a wonderful young woman doctor. She has been faithfully at my side, at her grandmother's side at great expense to her own future. You see, when her grandmother took ill, and I had to come to care for her, Nicole was very close to being betrothed. I've no doubt that summer that she'd have been given a letter of engagement. He was a fine young man, he came from a respectable family. But, when my husband fell ill, I'd had to send Nicole to be with her grandmother. It was believed, by your grandfather, that she was too ill for us to remove her from this city or his care, so Nicole came to stay with her. My husband's condition did not improve and he passed on. I joined Nicole here in Chauesser, in hopes that I could send her back, but she'd have none of it, she felt she had to stay with me to properly grieve my husband's loss, her father's loss. While she was here she received a letter. The young man had a change of heart after such a long separation, it had been nearly a year by that point. We learned just months later that he'd taken one of Nicole's friends as his wife."

The woman glanced over at Nicole. The doctor was holding his breath, a tear growing in his eye, he tried to stifle it. How could the young woman, a life awaiting her, have sacrificed her own future in such a way? He suddenly was filled with all the more admiration, all the more respect for this woman. She surely understood his ache for a different life, and suddenly he felt all the less sorry for himself. He but missed the larger cities, the many comforts and luxuries that it provided. She had abandoned a life that she would never know, for a commitment to her family. He sighed, the knowledge of it made him all the more determined to help her, help them, for surely, he'd found a woman who knew the truest meaning of the word sacrifice. This is what his grandfather had spoken of, that which he wanted to teach him.

"Do not worry dear lady," he said to the woman, "I shall be here to help her. Perhaps having someone near her own age who has spent much time in the larger cities of Europe, will provide her a window to the outside world, beyond that which she has seen these last years. I should welcome the opportunity to do so if permission is granted me." He stood looking down at the woman. "Rest now, I'll be in to check on you, the both of you in a few hours. Then we'd be seeing to getting some proper nourishment into you."

The woman nodded, a bit more rest would do her good.

"You are certain you'd like nothing to aide you to rest?"

She shook her head, the knowledge that he'd shared with her these last moments had provided enough relief for her. Nicole would not be alone, he would help her, and he'd offered to do so of his own volition. It was not perfect, but it was an arrangement that she knew would provide Nicole with support when she would need it most.

The doctor rose and walked over to Nicole, gazing down upon her. She felt his presence and resisted the urge to hold her breath. She tried to keep her breathing steady and even so as to appear to be sleeping.

He smiled, pulling the covers up under her chin. "Rest dear Nicole, you've a friend in your presence now."

She heard him whisper as he put the pads of his fingers lightly on her cheek, and then departed. Nicole nearly gasped when she heard the door close. Her mother had not moved from the fire, she opened her eyes, raising her head just slightly to look at her. She could see that her mother was praying. She could make out but a few words.

"Thank you, thank you for bringing someone to help her Lord."

Nicole lay back down. She'd accept his offer. Accept it for all of their sakes. They truly were a group who needed one another. Fate indeed, Nicole thought to herself. How could it be anything other?

XXXXX

Christine walked to the room that would be her temporary haven while she waited for Erik to return. She knew not how far she was from the Opera House, but knew that it would be far too dangerous for her to venture out to try to join him, though she'd like nothing more than to be at his side. Even her foolish heart knew that much.

As she lifted the heavy wine-red velvet cover from the door, her breath caught in he chest. The room was alive from the fire. It had warmed nicely, and the glow of the fire revealed yet another secret of the room. The fabrics that adorned the walls had hints of something in them that made them shimmer like they were made of gold. It was as if she'd ventured inside a beautiful dream.

She walked over to the divan, looking down at the rather large bundle of coverings that lay there. She would be comfortable and warm. She glanced over by the fire, there one rather large blanket had been placed in front of it. No doubt Erphan's thoughtfulness. She could cover herself with the warm blanket. She had to admit, that sounded quite splendid just now. She knew she shan't sleep, but she might as well be comfortable as she waited, for there was little else she could do.

On the morrow, when it was light, she wished to spend some time looking at the paintings in the sitting room. No doubt the light of day would allow her to examine them in more detail. For her it was like looking at a storybook of her life, displayed for all the world to see, though they'd not known it was her.

As she slipped beneath the warm cover, pulling several others up over her, she tucked a small folded bundle under her stomach. Something about extra support there made her feel more comfortable as of late. She lay for a long while simply drinking in the beauty of the room, letting her mind imagine all of the brides that had been in that room, being fitted for the dress they would wear to meet their groom. Most would have been elated, floating, bordering on flying. There were no doubt some who were less so, having succumbed to the fate of arranged marriages, though that was less and less common these days.

She let her eyes flutter closed, glancing up at the ceiling, she felt like she was floating off into the heavens. The room was warm, the divan sumptuously comfortable, and the surroundings nearly dream-like. She wandered off to sleep though she'd thought she was unable to. She found herself dreaming. Peaceful dreams invaded her thoughts.

She saw bride after bride in that very room. Gowns so beautiful they nearly took her breath away. Of every fabric and shade one could imagine. She'd seen dozens in her dream. Now she'd entered the room once more, a slender young girl with long brown flowing locks stood on the tall pediment, a fine gown, more beautiful still than all others that had come before. There were several woman, including the one she'd met just this evening fawning over how beautiful it was, and she in it. They admired the tulle, the pearls, the intricate and elaborate lace, the satin…it was indeed a beautiful dress.

"Turn around, let us see the front of it my dear," Christine heard a woman call out. She watched as the bride made the complicated rather intricate steps required to move herself around to face them. A hush fell over the group. Christine's eyes traveled from the bottom of the dress, inch by inch up to the waist which was embellished with a thick crusting of beaded pearls, and interwoven with a golden thread, it was breathtaking. Tendrils of brown hair were visible as her eyes moved up the front of the dress to the shoulders and finally up to the small collar that crowned it. It was delicate though embellished with smaller pearls and more of the golden thread, a beautiful finish to an extraordinary garment. Christine had admired with equal thoughts the veil that covered the bride's face, but now she wished to see the happy face a bride wearing such a fine dress would surely possess. Her eyes wandered up focusing through the sheerness of the veil to the face, and her breath caught in her chest. It was the faceless girl in the portraits. Christine felt herself backing away, though she was not afraid, there was something disturbing about it, and the fact that none of the other women in the room found it at all odd that she'd no facial features.

In her dream she felt herself run her hip into the divan she now slept on. She looked down in her dream, grabbing at the side of it lest she tumble to the ground. When she looked up, the scene had changed entirely. A new dress, and yet another face, and the women surrounding her, everything had changed. There was the dress maker, Madame Giry, and she blinked, was that Raoul's sister? She blinked again, yes it was.

"Oh how lovely, my brother will love this dress my dear, it is simply exquisite, all of society will be truly green with envy."

Christine's eyes quickly flying to the face of the bride, hoping beyond hope she did not see herself. The bride's back was turned, a heavy silken veil obscuring her hair. In her dream Christine felt herself walking around to stand between the bride and the grand ornate mirror she was gazing into. She admired the strikingly different dress, of fine white satin peering through a layer of loosely woven shimmering silvery lace that covered nearly every inch of it. It was very different than the other dress, but equally exquisite in every way. Christine's eyes slowly traveled up the front until she saw the face of the young woman, she was smiling, a faint hint of a red line on her cheek. In her sleep Christine smiled, sighing. It was it should be…it was Meg, and she was simply radiant.

She watched as Meg looked down at her, a tear glimmering in her eye as she reached down taking the hand of the girl that stood in front of her, she heard Meg say, "oh sister, isn't it simply beautiful?"

Christine's breath caught, what had she said? She felt herself backing away from the mirror, looking now at the girl to whom Meg was speaking. All Christine could see was long flowing brown locks of a woman in a rather loose dress, her back turned toward her. She heard the girl respond to Meg, "yes, yes it is, Raoul will indeed be quite taken with it, nearly as much as he is with you!" Christine listened as she heard the two of them laugh, she recognized that laugh. In her mind she was trying to move back toward the pair, when she heard Madame Giry's voice, "now what are the two of you girls laughing about?" The pair turned to face her, "nothing mother," she heard Meg say.

Christine caught her first glimpse of the girl with long dark hair, a rather large poof at the front of her dress, no doubt she was imminently due to deliver. Christine's eyes wandered up to her face, and she shivered in her sleep, it was she! She fought to wake, though neither frightened nor ill at ease, she simply needed out of the dream. But wake she could not. She saw Madame Giry walking toward the pair. Madame Giry took the hand of each girl, taking turns looking back and forth between them.

"I am so very happy, so very happy for the both of you my darling girls. Life has not been easy for any concerned, but look now how fate has delivered to us a happiness that we could never have imagined!" Christine felt herself smiling in her sleep. It was a pleasant dream. She looked once more at the three of them as they stood together. No doubt a set of circumstances such as this could never exist, for what of Raoul's sister?

The young woman was walking towards them. Christine saw herself let go of Madame Giry's hand, extending it to the young woman. They were smiling at one another as Raoul's sister took her hand, and that of Madame Giry's. "It will be so very wonderful to have sisters. When I was a little girl I truly longed for one, and now I shall have two!"

Christine felt herself backing away from the scene, shaking her head in her sleep. No doubt her over active mind had begun swirling associations that never existed, making up a grand dream in order to provide her some temporary comfort. She felt herself pressed against the wall of the dressing room near the door.

She cocked her head, she heard something. Was that men…men laughing? She felt herself pass through the curtain out into the corridor and down the hall toward where she heard the revelry. She turned the corner, there in that room was Raoul, his back turned toward the fire, holding a glass out in front of him, he was flanked on both sides by Nadir, and his father, a fourth figure stood in front of him, the four of them forming a near perfect square. His father was raising a toast.

"I shan't have ever thought it possible, but here we are a family growing, indeed brimming and overflowing. I shan't be a happier man than I am at this moment gentlemen. I raise my glass to you Raoul. May you and your bride-to-be have much deserved happiness." The moment having become more serious than he'd intended, he interjected, "and may you be fruitful and multiply as your brother has!"

The men began to laugh heartily. Nadir reaching out and patting the fourth man on the shoulder. Christine was blinking, shaking her head at her own absurdity. Surely this dream had taken every odd turn imaginable, for Raoul had no brother. It was what happened next that startled Christine to an upright position, panting and wide awake.

She felt Raoul's eyes pass over the shoulder of the man whose back faced her. "Ah Christine, is it as lovely as she deserves?"

Christine's mind was reeling, had he called her by name? Then she felt all eyes upon her, all smiling. The dream began to move at a pace so slow she could hear herself breathing in and out. The man whose back had been turned to her was slowly turning around. She recognized that frame, those motions, those shoulders. Before she knew it, he'd turned to face her, a great smile across his face, Nadir's hand still on his shoulder. Her breath caught in her chest, it was Erik. He was smiling at her, a bit of a blush on his cheeks. She heard him say, "is she not the most radiant woman with child you've ever seen?"

As the dream began to fade from her memory she thought she heard Raoul say, "yes she is my dear…" and then something more she could not make out. Christine was wide awake, panting, shaking her head back and forth. How vivid an imagination she had indeed. Is this what her mind would do to her forever more? Is this how it would try to resolve the pity of not being able to handle all the separations that had to be made in this life so that everyone could be happy, could be safe, could be loved?

It was cruel indeed that she and Meg had need to be separated. She so longed to tell her of her joy. To find how Meg was doing. If she was healing. If she and Raoul grew closer now. She smiled slightly. She had to admit she felt a bit like a little girl having dreamed of gossip, waking in the middle of the night wanting to wake Meg and tell of the dream as they had done to one another so many times in the Opera House. Part of Christine missed that so. Being able to wake knowing that Meg was but a few feet away, that she could reach out and shake the end of her bed to wake her whenever she needed to talk. Right now she missed her so much so that she ached. She'd not been separated from Meg for that long since they'd laid eyes upon one another some years before.

Christine sat up, tugging the warmth of the blankets up under her chin. She was awake and entirely certain she would not again slumber now. The dream and the rest had provided some relief to her, but now she was wide awake, and fully back into the reality of where she was and why she was there.

How she longed to see Meg, for surely she was somewhere within the City, though she hoped beyond hope that she was not at the Opera House as Christine feared. Christine knew not what hour of the day it was, for the room she was in contained nary a window. No way for light of any kind to enter the solitude. Erik had truly created a small surreal haven there. It was a place where one could entirely focus on the purpose for which one was there; blocking out the remainder of the world.

She nestled back down into the thick swaddle of blankets. All was still silent with the exception of the crackling fire. She'd set her mind to examining the ceiling, imagining Erik painting it; bringing life to the cold stone with smears of pigment and talent. She would rise when she heard others stir. For now she would allow her body to rest.

Her hand lovingly ran over her stomach. The lump seeming a bit larger than it had in previous days; she smiled. It was merely the beginning she knew. But each day that passed, the closer she came to placing a son in the loving, eager, arms of her Erik. Her eyes slowly closing. She'd pray. Pray for all of them for there was little else she could do for them now, and she knew, nothing more powerful she herself could do. For the heaven's contained the one being that could intervene.

**Author's Notes:**

**Dear Faithfuls**: Have any of you seen the original series of 'Mission Impossible', or perhaps the more recent movie 'Paycheck'? The reason I ask, is because I would like for you to erase all knowledge of the inadvertent "Complicated Dance" box from your memory bank. In my haste to post on Friday night, I left that note box in the chapter, and it was not meant to be there. Suffice it to say, things will have to be changed now so that I do not spoil the coming chapters for the unfortunate few who did find that crazy mistake of mine. My deepest apology!

**Captainoblivious**: Yes…he's back! Somehow being in those old surroundings pulled him back to the former self…the comfort of a world he'd known for so long!

Hmmm…a former crush? Was it more than a crush? Did they actually date? I am being rather nosy aren't I? LOL! If he did the breaking up, it might be better. If he was the one who was jilted, it might not be so easy for him. Does this girl live near either of you? If not, that might help. As for a romance, I didn't mean anything far too serious my dear. I was simply thinking friends often become the best boyfriends…hmmmm….

Have a happy Monday!

PhantomsRogue: I am going to plea mea culpa regarding the inadvertent text box that I left in the story. I was more than horrified when I started to read the reviews and realized what I had done! Yikes, how very careless of me! Now I shall have to refashion some of the ideas so that I can keep the suspense in proper perspective!

Hmmm…the music box. Something tells me they very likely have a black piano that I could put POTO music in. If not, they should consider it don't you think? LOL! Yes, I have heard Sara Brightman sing, and she does indeed have an exquisite voice. ALW did fall in love with her for that voice as I understand it.

Christmas cards are a difficult one for me. I don't like the generic cards. So usually I buy a lovely blank card, and write personal letters instead. That is about the only time that I sit in front of the fire with a hot pot of tea, looking at the tree, listening to Christmas music. Something about that process makes Christmas complete for me. Though this year I fear that the letters may not be as long. Much of my free time has been devoted to writing this story. I think even my schnauzer feels a bit rejected some nights! I shall have to find a way to strike a balance though. Few, a very few, of my friends know that I am writing this story, and often wonder why I spend so much of my time alone…ahhh…that is what they think…I am not alone at all…quite the contrary! I now spend time with friends from around the world, and with friends from the world of literature….ahhh…what a world I live in! LOL!

That would indeed be terrible if Raoul traveled to the winter house. I think Nadir would hang around his ankles, fake a heart attack, do anything he could to delay Raoul doing that!

Bon Nuit mon aimee!

**Poetzproblem**: Thank you for understanding my faux pas. I simply could not believe it when I started reading the reviews and realized what I had done. I usually have some sort of a text box of running notes just so that I do not forget things, because what is the point of introducing something into the story and then leaving it hanging in the story? So, yes, I am blushing every shade of crimson as I write. I tried swiftly to remove the chapter and replace it with one without the "bonus" so that future reviewers won't have to stumble around that box. Thank God that the ending wasn't listed there! I'd had to have just rolled over and croaked!

Thank you for the compliment on the Opera House as the safe house. I thought Nadir was rather clever for having suggested it! The poor man would do anything to delay Raoul going to the winter house. Can you just see him fidgeting, getting hot around the collar, sick to his stomach just thinking of it? Somebody get that poor little man an Alka-Seltzer! LOL!

Have a wonderful Monday!

**NordyGirl**: I do like that song, an excellent choice. I LOVE 'Fiddler on the Roof'. My friends think I'm crazy sometimes, for many reasons, but not the least of which, is that I am always offering what they think are off the wall anecdotes, such as quotes from plays like 'Fiddler' or literature. It's not that I try to drive them nuts you understand, it is simply my sense of humor….thank goodness they love me anyway! The other night I made a comment to one of my male friends and he smiled at me and laughed saying "there you go again, getting all philosophical on me!" I guess that's just me! So, I do like your choices of music….I think of them often!

Fine art as a profession? Are you thinking of creating the art, being a curator, perhaps a purveyor? That would indeed be interesting work…they say the happiest people on this earth are the ones that make a living doing what it is they love….

Have a good night my dear!

**Lady Winifred**: Yes, the story line has grown now with a few additional complications. Thank you for your review!

Have a lovely evening!

**Faeriecatcher1**: I like the idea that everyone can make the Phantom whatever age they are comfortable. In my mind he is in his early thirties. Now for some that is too young to be true to the story, and for some that is too old to not seem wrong to be with Christine, so I think that allowing everyone to choose their own age would be wise. After all, Erik really has no idea how old he is, or even what month he was born in! Hmmmm…. Yes, it was common for older men to marry younger women. But it was also not uncommon for that to be a topic of conversation, especially when the woman was younger than twenty. It was almost as if they added that adjective "younger" to the word "wife" to make her seem more like a prize than a person. I think the younger the woman, to a point, the better the man thought he had done. Yikes, and yuck, but that is sort of the way things went back then. Now, for our dear pair though, they loved each other, and age had nothing to do with it at all.

Thank you for the compliment on the seamstress. There were a few parts of the story that I wanted to complete, some things that were questions in my mind. To me that is what makes a story real. I'm glad so many have approved. Other than Madame Giry, there weren't any other role models of love or goodness in his life. Everyone else he'd been associated with, knew his past, could see his deformity. He needed someone who saw his soul. Who had no assumptions or ideas attached to what they thought of him. I am happy that you agree.

Wishing you a most pleasant evening!

Batteredchild: Thank you for understanding the additional characters. To me they felt to be necessary for this part of the story, so as if the plot weren't complicated enough already, add them in I did! LOL! Also, thank you for the compliment on the pictures. We knew that Erik adored her from afar for a great long while. As with anyone with obsessions, he needed to find an outlet. Now if there can be such a thing as a semi-healthy addiction, perhaps this would be it for Erik. He admired her, was obsessed with her, and instead of trying to reach out and frighten her, he released his feelings for her, of the most tender moments he could recall. I loved the way he captured the poignant moments of her life. That meant he was connecting with her on a much deeper level than someone who was just obsessed. He truly cared for her, and what she felt. In a word, he LOVED her.

So, not that it has anything to do with the story, but I am wondering…..how does one celebrate Christmas when it is so very warm? Do you mind sharing a little?

Have a beautiful evening in paradise!

PhantomFan13: I am happy to hear you enjoyed HP…and too much popcorn? Oh well, there could be far worse things in this life! It sounds like you had a very busy, but entirely enjoyable day on Friday. That is good, we all need those from time to time!

I am keenly aware that many people do not appreciate others having their Christmas decorations up so early….but….I must confess…I am one of the crazy ones….mine is already done! I do love this season so very much…and it take so much work to do, that the longer I have them up, the more I can enjoy them!

Thank you for the compliment on the chapter. It was long, and the note box in the middle was a mistake….I hope everyone can forgive and forget!

Have a great night!


	159. Beneath the Stairs, Behind the Man

Chapter 159 Beneath the Stairs, Behind the Man 

Erik made his way beneath the grand staircase in the foyer of the Opera House. He'd not frequented the space often when he'd been there, as it was far too close to the public places that he tried vigilantly to avoid. He preferred various other routes that led directly to his lair, he corrected himself, his former home, but they were entirely buried by the feet of snow that lay on the ground.

His mind was swirling. It wrestled with the knowledge of the world he now lived in, feeling entirely human, entirely alive. But the old world, the one he'd known with far more accuracy, was alluring, and it beckoned him. For this was the territory of the specter, the Phantom. It was not the world of Erik the man, the husband, the father. He was two distinct persons, trying in vain, to co-exist in the same body. Both fighting for claim of the present.

Erik closed his eyes. He needed to be of certain resolve. A divided mind would not serve him well. He'd come for one purpose, to defend Nadir, and Meg. Erik the man, was ill-equipped to do so. He needed to embody the one creature that instilled fear in everyone, and these most recent days, even he himself. For the Phantom was invincible, unattainable, and undaunted. He was a creature who rightly deserved to be feared if not revered.

Erik found himself at the door that led out into what he knew would be the foyer. Pausing, he put his ear against the wood. There was nary a sound. He leaned his forehead heavily against it. He closed his eyes, thinking in those moments, of his dear sweet Christine. Surely the heavens would see fit to protect her should the worst come to pass. He thought of his yet unborn children. He loved them so, though he'd never touched them. This was his reason for living, for breathing, for loving. He'd have to be strong, putting Erik the man aside, all thoughts of that life aside but for a time. The Phantom would be in the forefront. It was in that persona that he felt powerful, felt unshakable. As flesh and blood he could die. But as a legend, as legend, he could be something else entirely. Men were fallible; legends were untouchable. Tonight he would delve into the realm of legends. For this was from where he drew his strength, his courage to do what must be done.

Slowly he opened the door, seeing no one, he slipped through, closing it behind him carefully. Erik paused, taking in the grandeur of all his eyes beheld. It had received several embellishments, including the addition of several fainting benches for the ladies and several busts of famous composers, gilded and larger than life. The staircase had been polished to a gem-like sheen. The walls completely painted and fixtures refurbished. They'd done everything to make amends to the shell that was previously the structure of the Opera House. He would return to examine the hall in great detail. He gazed upon it once more, emblazoning it in his mind, lest his journey take an unfavorable turn.

Erik made his way over to the edge of the stairs, looking up at them. It had been where he'd descended when he'd delivered 'Don Juan' to a stunned audience at the masquerade ball. Where, in his anger, he'd snatched the ring from Christine's neck. How that day had pained him so. He'd thought her to be engaged to Raoul, but hadn't given her the chance to explain before he'd snatched the ring and was gone. He'd nearly put an end to Raoul that night. Madame Giry's quick thinking and intervention had proven otherwise. She'd snatched Raoul from the very brink of death. Erik, in his anger, would certainly have made swift end to him.

He shook his head. Had he done so, perhaps none of this would have come to pass. It was not meant to be, and though he'd no use of his own for the boy, it seemed Meg had a fascination with him, though Erik hoped it would be fleeting.

In his many hours of solitude he'd rather envisioned Meg and Madame Giry would have want to return to Chauesser, to Courtland Manor, and leave Paris behind. He surmised that Meg might make a good match there. She'd certainly have no need to worry for a place to live, nor of finding a wealthy suitor. Erik had seen to that. No when it was time, Meg would be a woman quite able to care for herself in that regard. Erphan, if groomed, Erik thought, might make an excellent suitor for Meg though they'd never laid eyes on one another. He was handsome and loyal, two things any young woman would desire in a suitor.

Erik was no match-maker, he'd merely been thinking about an alternate life. One that would permit everyone happiness. If he could but have all that he cared for, in the same city, far away from the cares of Paris, then, and only then could they all have what they desired. Nadir would be free to pursue more than a mere friendship with Madame Giry, Meg and Christine would be together again, and he, he would have all his loved ones around him, a family of sorts at last, and he would care for them all. He could imagine no other solution that would provide them lasting happiness. No, if Meg were to stay in Paris and become betrothed to Raoul, it would put their entire world in upheaval, just when they longed for peace the most.

Erik shook his head once more. This was no time to think of such things. His mind simply wanted to be anywhere but where it was, rambling off in every different direction so that it shan't be required in the present. There was something soothing about delusion. It was like a drug that transported one quite easily away from all things painful, allowing for a place where one had supreme control over events and people, ah yes, that was a world Erik felt quite comfortable in, and well suited for. It was, it had been, the realm of the Phantom, and that is now where he found himself. He grappled with it, the present man of Erik not wanting to let go of all things human he had come to know. But the Phantom, he was a powerful creature that overcame even the most willful.

Erik closed his eyes. Once more he needed to make the mental switch. The longer he tarried, the more opportunity he gave Crawlings, and the less his very purpose for being there was served. He knew where he had need to go. He opened his eyes yet again, grasping the edges of his cloak. He slowly slid along the side of the wall. The lamps having been extinguished for the night provided proper shadow for him to move about quite literally undetected. Erik made his way swiftly, silently, to the door on the other side of the staircase. If it had not been altered, it would lead to the dressing rooms behind the stage, and to the mirror, it was the quickest way to the cellars, and the broadest path. He could only hope that it had not been discovered and sealed.

The door was not locked, and indeed the corridor remained intact. He made his way swiftly down it to the last dressing room, moving in and closing the door behind him. His breath was labored, not from exertion, but rather exhilaration. The very embodiment of the Phantom was like a drug, a welcome friend that reeled him back in with such force…tugged at every fiber of his being. The movements, the breathing, the way he held his cloak in his hand, it was like a comfortable shoe one wears not because it is attractive, nay often it was not, but because it connected with you, provided you an inner power, a comfort not found elsewhere. He sighed. There was little to do but give in to it now, for surely he'd need no quibbling in his mind when he reached his lair.

He walked through the near blackness to the back of the room. A small sliver of cool white moonlight piercing the darkness just near the mirror. Erik smiled, it was still there. He felt about the edges, it had not been sealed. He kneeled down, releasing the small lever just under the bottom edge. He heard the latch release. He inhaled once more. Once he passed through this porticos, he was no longer in the world of Erik. He was in the Phantom's realm.

He lowered his head, "take her into your care Lord, watch over her. Give her strength and courage to go on alone if it should be required. Guide her and guard her, providing all that she needs…" he paused, a small grip in his throat, "if I should not return to her, provide her comfort. Help her to rest in the knowledge that her angel would never truly leave her, even if the flesh and blood she's come to know should cease to exist."

He raised his head, inhaled once more, and pushed the mirror aside. He passed through, turning to take his last glimpse at the world of mortals. He pushed the mirror shut, hearing it latch. He was in utter darkness. He neither needed, nor had want for light. Though it had been a considerable length of time that he'd been gone, he knew every stone, ever out-jut of every corner by heart. His feet would travel it without issue.

It took but minutes only before he was at the spiraling path that led to the lower levels of the Opera House. Though there was an dreadful smell, it seemed no different underfoot. He inhaled. It was a mixture of the stale remnants in the air from the fire, and all that had happened in their efforts afterward to clean it. The scent, it permeated his mind, transporting him to a different place and time, though his feet continued to make the long journey to the lower levels, his mind was in a different place entirely.

He and Nadir were walking in the rain through the burned guts of a house that had been leveled by a great fire. They'd poked and prodded at the few inhabitants that they'd found, but it was of no use, they were gone. The charred remains of desks, half consumed, great divans, works of art, frames of beds entirely burned to a barely recognizable state. Erik had paused at the burned piano, running his hand along the ashen soot that lay atop of it. He lifted what remained of the lid, peering through the ever increasing rain, at the inner workings of the beautiful instrument that had been ravaged by the monster.

They'd picked up several books, great authors whose works now lay among the rubble of a house owned by six generations of a family, now laid to waste. Their sin? Not they…no he…..the master of the house had refused her. In that kingdom, there was no greater treason one could commit. She'd ordered it burned to the ground….with the inhabitants in it.

Erik and Nadir had learned of her nefarious plot far too late to be of any good use. Now they could only bare witness to what evil the woman was capable of. It only furthered their need to rid themselves of her. Of all that they'd thought they were possessing of wealth, of fame, of status and position. The price required of their conscience…their souls…was far too great.

Erik shook his head, returning from that wretched memory, to the present chill of his flesh. The further he descended; the colder it became. The halls, the stairwells, had not been managed since he'd been there. No caretaker to clean them, to prevent moss and the like from taking over. His domicile had become something of a ruins itself since he'd departed. He'd not thought of it since he'd gone from there some months before, thinking he shan't ever return, save once more to retrieve what remained of his funds. He was descending ever deeper, leaving far behind the world that he'd come to know and love.

Thus far, he'd no sense that anyone had ventured there. Though this was not likely the path that Meg and Nadir would have chosen, preferring the more formal route with a generous set of stairs to travel. Erik's eyes were slowly adjusting to the light. It had been months since he'd had to travel in such a way, and it surprised him that his eyes had remembered their adjustments. He moved ever more swiftly the lower he descended. No sound, no hint of light, and from the cobwebs he encountered, he was entirely certain that none had passed this way before him.

He found himself at the bottom. Standing on the flat ground that led to the water. The stench, the sickly sweet smell of water contaminated with every foul thing that would have drifted here after the great fire, invaded his nostrils, nearly making him sick. He shook his head. He'd not thought himself a benefactor of the Opera House in this regard, but he had been a good caretaker of the lower levels, and it was never more obvious than it was now that he indeed had given life to an area that would be ever so deserving of the term bowels.

His eyes searched for the boat, though he was certain it would be gone. He looked here and there, and indeed there was no sight of it. His eyes quickly rising to the ledge just three meters above him on the left. The large plank still protruded from there, they had either not found it, or had and decided it was of no use to remove it. He smiled. It had served him well. It provided a place where one could perch to watch if needed, or, as in this case it served as a platform on which one could traverse the dark waters of the river that ran to the very place he was headed.

Erik, nay, the Phantom, made swift work of climbing to the ledge, using the rope to lower the large set of intertwined planks to the ground. He dug further back along the rocky slope, retrieving a long pole, lowering it and himself to the ground. He looked the planks over, they were indeed filthy but intact. Slowly, silently he put the boards into the water, climbing aloft, using the pole to propel him over the waters.

He moved slowly through the water, lifting and shifting the pole silently pushing him through the corridors. He glanced from side to side, taking in all that the months of neglect had done to the halls. No doubt, lack of air current, no heat, no light had shone there, for every manner of thing green now grew across the faces of the gargoyles and sentries. He listened to the utter silence that greeted him at every turn. He could hear only the slightest echo of his own breathing.

It was as black as pitch the further he moved toward his former lair. He'd turned the last corner before he'd be in front of the gate that entered his grotto, and still he saw and heard nothing. Surely there would be something, some indication of what had gone on there, but there was nothing but silence. He began to move slower and slower until he felt the plank rub along the edges of what he was certain was the iron gate that kept the world out of what was his. He tapped at with his pole. It was there, as solid and sturdy as ever. He pushed his way over to the farthest left side, thrusting his pole down deep into the water, pushing at the lever. It did not move at first. In fact it took nearly a dozen attempts before it finally released and the gate began its screeching ascent. He covered his ears with both hands. The element of surprise was certainly lost now. All things exposed to the elements of damp and darkness did not fair well, and surely in several months more, the gate itself would be nearly impregnable. Erik listened until he was certain the gate had risen. If all was still intact the curtain would certainly have retreated to the left and the right. He raised his pole, poking around into the air. There was nothing.

He put the pole once more into the ground, hoping beyond hope that the candelabras had not been found and destroyed. It had been one of his greatest masterpieces he'd thought. He lifted the pole out of the water, pushing yet another lever along the side of the wall. Then quickly thrust it back into the water, holding his current position. He sat for a moment, yet again nothing. His heart sank. No doubt the water, and lack of use had damaged them. He'd try but once more, then he'd make his way over to the shore and find light there.

If there had been anyone there, they'd certainly not have had use of a lamp or light of any kind. Erik sighed, he was either far too late, or his arrival was before the event in which case he could do the most good. His heart rate quickened. He'd need light to know which way his fate had turned.

He exhaled, he'd try once more. He gave the lever one last jab, this one more forceful than all previous attempts. He nearly lurched off the planks as he heard the screeching scrape of metal unused for a long while come to life beneath him. It was as if he'd awakened a great sleeping monster from the dark depths of the murky waters. He listened as the strained sounds of metal scraping against metal produced a ripple in the placid waters, and a splashing sound as the great beasts rose up from the depths.

Erik blinked, though they rose, there was no sign of life. Surely someone had found his tap into the kerosene, or it had become infiltrated by water…but wait. His breath caught as he saw the first flickers. Suddenly there was a great noise boiling up from below and one by one, the candelabras burst to life.

He squinted as the brightness of them revealed a light far greater than his eyes had seen in more than a few hours. He looked at them in marvel. Yes, several were not fully lit, but the mere fact that they still in fact sustained light, was a bit of a miracle to him. One he was entirely grateful for just now.

He both wanted to, and wanted not, to look over at the shore. It was the moment of truth. He closed his eyes, and then without further thought turned his head. His eyes darted to the bed where Christine had said she'd seen them near. He sighed a bit relieved. There was nothing. His eyes quickly scanning all surfaces, there was nothing. No sign of person nor blood. He lowered his head, he had arrived before, or perhaps the nightmare had been nothing more than a befuddled dream.

He lifted his head. Now, knowing that what he feared most was not there, he could survey the expanse of his home. His lips began to tremble, his eyes now taking in the sight with far different purpose. The music began to rage in his head. Though there was no sound, his mind created it for him, with such veracity that he could feel it in his soul. He looked at the great velvet curtains that had covered the walls. The ones that still remained had been ripped to shreds, no doubt by sword. The mirrors, smashed, their frames laying waste like dead carcasses hung from a wall. His music, the sheets he'd so lovingly penned and laid about to dry. All scattered and strewn about on the ground without care. His tables overturned and broken. He could not bare to look, though he knew he must.

Slowly he pushed the plank over to the shore, dismounting as he'd done thousands of times, flinging his cloak around him, and off his shoulders onto the shore. He mounted the stairs, his eyes averted until he stood before it. He closed his eyes running his hand along the top surface. He exhaled heavily. It had not befallen the fate of an axe nor fire. Slowly, reticently he opened his eyes. Moving around to the bench wiping it with his hand before he sat in front of what had been his companion for so many years. It felt as if he was returning home to a friend. Tears welled in his eyes. It was haunting to be there…a life that felt both present and ten lifetimes passed.

He lifted the filthy cover. It reminded him so of the piano that he'd discovered at the church during the fire that leveled the small village, the one that now sat at the winter house. He knew better than to try to play it lest he damage its delicate strings. One day, perhaps, he could return for it. His heart rose and sunk for he knew it could not be so. He ran his fingers lightly over the ivory keys. The many hours of music he'd composed on them, he could feel the small grooves in the keys that had been formed by his fingers for the hours and hours of use the instrument had endured.

He closed his eyes, if for but a moment he was home. Something inside of him was at peace. He really couldn't say what happened those next hours, but he'd turned into a different creature. One memory had set it all in motion. Before he knew it he'd rolled up his sleeves, and had begun toiling with great fervor. He'd retrieved clothes, wiping away the layers of soot and filth that covered nearly every inch of anything that had a surface for it to rest upon. He'd re-hung curtains with new ones stored in deep caves. Damaged mirrors were filled with fabrics or works of art long forgotten in the deep recesses. Candles once again found their homes. A broom had cleaned not only floors but cobwebs. The dry flints remained in the canister allowing him to start a small fire in the black cast-iron stove he'd used to break the chill in the air. The bed, Christine's bed, was wiped down and polished, a fresh set of sheets retrieved from a dry trunk at the back of the room. He worked at a frenzied pace, though he could not say why. The more he tried to rationalize it, the great his mind fought with him. It was simply something that must be done; it was cathartic for his soul.

As he gathered the last of the sheets that had been scattered about, stacking them carefully into a small velvet lined box, his spirit began to calm. All that had coursed through his veins in expectation of defending himself, Meg, Nadir, now spent on his fervent toils. He sat down, his brow and back now damp with sweat, he looked once more at the space he'd occupied for so many years. It was not now, nor would it ever be fully restored to its former grandeur. Music had raged in his mind as he toiled, and still it persisted. It was like a rather long goodbye. His parting homage to the music that had been born there; to a place that had sheltered the creature that he'd been.

Erik's eyes traveled the expanse of the room. He had missed it, far more than he'd even realized. He imagined the times that Christine had been there. Her first wide-eyed exposure to the Phantom in flesh, the lair where he lived, the kingdom of music where he'd fashioned all he'd taught her. It had been shelter to the very first awakenings of her passion for him, where she'd first gazed upon him as a man she could touch.

His hand rose to his cheek. He'd changed so very much since then. Not simply his flesh, but his soul. It had been dark and clouded with such emptiness when he'd occupied these walls, now, now…it was all very different.

He sighed, putting his head in his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He wiped the sweat from his brow. He was relieved, in more ways than he could describe. Nadir was surely not here, nor was Meg, nor had they been. His home, nay, his former home, had been restored, if but a small bit, and his soul felt a relief, though why he could not say.

He inhaled. As long as he had found himself there, he'd just as well retrieve the remainder of his funds so he'd have no reason to return yet again. Erik walked over to the rock, lifting it and several more to reveal the hole and the box that was in it. It still contained a rather large fortune. He'd not leave even one note in it. For truly if he'd find himself there once more, he'd much more stored in the caverns. It would be his children's inheritance. One day he'd return for it. He'd draw a map for them, a treasure map, lest one day he not be able to tell them of its whereabouts. He smiled. What young child would not relish the adventures of a treasure map?

He went about tucking the money into a bag he'd retrieved. Stuffing it as full as he could. He returned the container and the rocks to their former home. He stood looking about the large room. Memory after memory flooded his mind. He closed his eyes. He was no longer alone, no longer had he to learn to live a life spent in solitude. She had changed everything, their love had changed everything.

He inhaled, opening his eyes once more. He'd return to Christine, and they would return to Chauesser, and the comforts they'd come to know there. If only there had been some way for him to have allowed she and Meg, Madame Giry, to see one another, to visit if only ever so briefly, the trip would have been for a greater purpose.

He shook his head. Surely Madame Giry and Meg were even now in the comfort of that boy's home. He felt his back stiffening, but then release. He'd no reason to hate the boy anymore, he posed no further threat to he and Christine, for Christine was fully his, Raoul would never be able to stake claim to her again. But something in him still loathed Raoul…loathed him for ever wanting what was not meant to be his.

He sighed. It was time. Time to return to the world that he now lived in, and leave that of the Phantom behind. He had prepared for the worst, embraced all he'd needed for it, but in the end, thankfully, it had proven to be unnecessary.

Erik went about extinguishing candle after candle until only the candelabras remained. He rolled down his sleeves, put on his vest, and reaffixed his cloak about his shoulders. He lifted the top hat, putting it on his head, as he took the pole into his hand and stepped off the shore onto the wood. He turned taking in the sight once more. He'd put it into order this time.

He turned away, pushing the planks slowly across the water until he came to the mouth of the cave. He'd not look back this time. He passed through, tripping both levers. As he heard the candelabras make their descent, and the cavern grow dark once more, he felt an inner peace. The gate came down solidly behind him with a great thud. He sighed. His travels there had not been what he'd expected, but it had been a gift to him. He'd be able to put it behind him now. That life was gone forever.

Erik could now be the husband and father that he desired to be. Though he'd not let his guard down until he was again safely in Christine's arms, something in him had changed. There was a reconciliation of sorts that had taken place, as though the two diverging personalities that lived within him had found a balance, struck a bargain. As he pushed the plank all the way to the ledge where he'd first entered the water he glanced left and right, saying his silent goodbyes. He had no need to stow the plank once more on the ledge, for he'd no care if anyone found it now. He'd no further use for it, nor what he was leaving behind. The piano, yes, that was a great loss, but there was simply no way to rescue it. He'd have to lose some things in order to embrace others. It was a necessary sacrifice for a world far better than the one he'd known there.

Erik began the arduous task of climbing up the spiraling pathway that led to the surface of the earth, and back to his Christine. He'd only hoped it was not yet light. His pocket watch he'd slipped into Christine's cloak pocket, a parting gift in the event things had not gone well. He was thankful that it had not been as she imagined, though why she'd dreamed it was somewhat of a mystery. Perhaps he'd return to her side to find her visions changed. He knew only that he had not found his friend, nor Meg in the very place she'd imagined them, and he was nothing, if not entirely relieved.

Soon Erik found himself at the upper levels of the cellars. He tarried but a moment at the door of the man he'd come to know, however indirectly. He wondered what had become of the man. The door was fixed shut. Perhaps he'd gone on to some other endeavor, if he were fortunate. Though Erik knew all too well that fortune did not often smile on such men.

He sighed, and continued upward. Erik now stood at the back of the mirror, looking into the dressing room once more, just as he'd done hundreds of times. He'd often done so as the cast of leading opera singers would revel in their great performances far away from the prying eyes of the patrons or mangers. Erik often felt as though he was joining them in an odd way, looking on while they tibbled their champagne, congratulating one another. How far removed he had been in reality, but how much more human he felt just being close to the performers.

Now he'd no reason to hide his face, though it would never grace the Opera House, nor any other establishment in Paris, for Christine's sake, it shan't ever be so. He reached out, pushing the mirror aside. He climbed through, never looking back. He pulled it closed, latching it for what he was certain would be the last time.

He listened at the outer door for a time, and then slowly pushed it open. There was no one. It was still dark outside, he was relieved. He would be able to return to Christine without being noticed. For surely there would be no early morning deliveries of any sort going on in the City until the streets were cleared and the snows melted.

He paused once more in they foyer. Allowing his mind to take in all that he saw. It was as if they had read his mind, some things were far too familiar, it was as if they'd found the plans…he paused…THE PLANS! He knew he should leave but he simply had to, if however briefly, he simply had to know if they had found them.

He would know…. He pulled his cloak tightly around his body. He made his way swiftly the auditorium. He knew immediately upon entrance, as there were shafts of moonlight floating in through the stained glass window high above the stage. He smiled, his chest welling with pride. They'd found them. He was shaking his head. He could scarcely believe he was seeing what his eyes beheld. Somehow, he'd authenticated the plans well enough, they'd thought them to be that of the original. He chuckled to himself, what foolish men. Had they looked, they'd have realized it had not been signed by drafter, it had been the one thing Erik had yet to do. He'd wanted to find a sample of the man's penmanship, but had not.

Erik turned to take it in. Yes, they had added additional seats…yes, yes, the additional balcony, very good…his eyes hungrily scanned each thing he'd had in his plan…it pleased him greatly…they'd completed them all! His heart swelled further. NOW, the Opera House was perfect. No doubt they'd find it to be true when first they would play a piece there. The acoustics would be ethereal. He exhaled, a profound pleasure indeed.

Now, he felt his mind wandering. Had they….he had to know. Slowly, stealthily, he moved out of the auditorium, and back to the staircase that led to the upper floors. If they'd followed his plans, the dormitories for the chorus girls would be found on the former props floor. It was dark, making traveling the decidedly altered surroundings a bit more complicated, though Erik managed

Soon he found himself on the floor he sought. He glanced left and right. Yes, there were new walls, he smiled. He traveled to the left, opening and closing doors with great delight. Yes, yes, they'd not missed a detail. Study rooms, private water closets, sleeping quarters. He moved to the end of the hall. He inhaled, looking up, he could tell that the rather sharp roofline had been altered. He opened the door, and there it was, the great room for the chorus girls. Fireplace and benches as well as a large bank of windows lay off to the left. A kitchen was settled in there. He went to the wall. Yes, the dumb-waiter was installed leading down to the kitchens far below. It was as he'd designed it.

He shook his head, a great smile of relief crossing his face. Surely the propriety of the young girls that would now re-grace the Opera House would be far more secure. They'd be fully separated from the often scurrilous men that occupied the dormitories below. Madame Giry would be ever so pleased when she returned to find it so. He moved to the window, looking out at the opulence of Paris. The sky was still dark, though a faint glimmer of pink grew on the horizon. In four hours time the sun would begin to rise. He smiled. He wondered how many young women would sit there with their morning tea taking in the beauty of the sun-rise…he hoped it would be a great many for years to come.

He moved back to the door, and down the hall to the other end of the floor. They had followed every step of the plan thus far, and he hoped that they had not been remiss in providing for the ballet mistress. Truly he'd wanted this for Madame Giry, but now hoped it would be for the benefit of another. He reached the doors. Yes, it looked as he'd suggested, as a proper stoop for a home. Rather odd he knew for it being indoors, but he'd wanted her to feel as if she did have a proper home inside the Opera House, a place she and Meg could call their own.

He opened the door entering into what he was certain was the formal, though small foyer. His hands began to wander the walls. Yes, the busts were in place, yes the doors. He moved to the center of the room, yes the table was there. He lifted his arms above his head. Yes, the chandelier was there. He smiled. He turned and walked directly toward the very place the French doors should be, and yes, they were there.

Slowly opening them, it revealed a room bathed entirely in moonlight. He smiled, a tear growing in the corner of his eye. They had neglected nothing. He moved from place to place, taking note of the bedroom, the walk in closet, the private bath. It was all as it should have been. He returned to the room where the divans sat across from one another. He moved to the outer wall. He'd known, even when he was drafting the plans, that the veranda was a frivolous addition but he hoped still that they'd gone to the expense to complete this dwelling so befitting a woman who had given them so very much.

He paused at the large curtains. When he pushed them aside they would either reveal a set of windows below those that allowed in the moonlight, or a set of doors. He paused, and then ran his hand behind the fabric. He smiled as his hands met with a pair of door handles. He pushed back the fabric and gazed out the glass panes of the doors. His eyes took in the beauty of the veranda, the opulence of the statues that graced it. It was even a bit larger than he had hoped, making him smile further. He'd had to allow them a few liberties for deviation.

He pushed the doors open and walked out into the frosty air, moving to the edge of the balcony, taking in the view of Paris. Yes….it was befitting the woman.

His smile slowly changing…turned down just slightly. How could he ask her to abandon all that she had worked for, now that she had what she had so very long deserved? It had been the passion of her life's work, and she would miss it so very much…it would be much akin to asking Erik to abandon music for the remainder of his days.

He closed his eyes. If Meg stayed in Paris, and married that boy, Madame Giry would be able to stay. Nadir, he supposed could visit, though it shan't be the same as being with the woman. Erik shook his head again at his own folly. There he was, finding himself thinking he could control events that were not his to control. He'd have to learn to let nature take care of itself. It was their choices, their decisions to make, not his.

He glanced once more over the balcony and then went back in, latching the doors closed tightly. He made his way out of the rooms, taking in one final time the details that had not been missed. Erik paused in the foyer. He walked over to the bust of Beethoven, lifting it he felt about for the crevice that would be inside. He smiled, yes it was there. He reached inside of the bag he'd brought with him from the cellars. He tucked a tidy sum inside, replacing the bust once more. Just in case, he thought to himself.

He went back out into the hall. He'd checked those things that were most important to him, he'd no need to check the remainder. They'd followed his details thus far, he'd no reason to doubt that they'd finished each and every one.

He wanted nothing more than to return to Christine now. He made his way swiftly, deftly down the stairs and to one of the many entrances at the back of the Opera House. One so overgrown with thicket that none used it but he. He would depart. His breath caught in his chest as he reached out for the handle. He could hear sound on the other side of the door. He pushed himself back into the shadows, putting his bag down at his side. He did not know who it might be, but he'd been in no mental state to encounter anyone. .

He waited, he could hear voices. He could only hope now that it would not be Nadir and Meg. Crawlings on their flank. Though at least he would be present from the first, able to intervene swiftly. He felt his hand run down his side to his sword. Slowly he pulled it from its sheath. The glimmer from the polished shank of it glinting in the sliver of light. He was ready, should it prove to be someone of ill intent.

**Author's Notes**:

**_Dear Faithfuls_**: Another long chapter….I hoped no one minded this much focus on Erik! I wanted his feeling to all be one connected moment. Yes, much more could have been written about all the feelings and thoughts that swirled through his heads as he put his lair back into some sort of semblance, but I alas, decided to give Erik a little bit of privacy since he already shares so very much with us! We can all imagine watching him put things back where they belonged, remaking Christine's bed, thinking about all the years he spent there….so, to that end, I hope that everyone was satisfied with the return to his former house…and thankfully….finding that neither Meg nor Nadir were there! Oh, and I could not help myself…Erik was far too curious about the rest of the Opera House, he merely wandered off to explore, quite without my permission! LOL!

**PhantomsRogue:** I feel tired for you my dear…96 cards! I can only imagine how long that takes to do! When I am done with my 30 something, I feel like I've been through quite an ordeal! Not a bad one, just one that requires a number of hours, and countless pots of tea and a plate or two of biscotti! I too bake Christmas cookies, usually about twenty different kinds. I have several large gatherings where I take cookies, and then of course the number of plates that are made for family and friends. Probably the one most requested thing I make, and make loads of it, is the English butter toffee. My aunt's recipe, and I must say, it is rather addictive. So, I will think of you while I start making mine next week. I always take Christmas cookies to work for my "birthday treat"…I've never quite figured out why the birthday person brings the treat….shouldn't it be the other way around? LOL! Ahh…it is fun anyway, and most definitely one of my favorite parts of the season. Nothing like baking cookies and making hundred year old candy recipes by candle light listening to 'Silent Night'….ohhh I get goose bumps just thinking about it! Just in case you are wondering…yes…I do have electricity…but I much prefer the candlelight to any artificial lighting….yet another reason everyone that knows me, knows I'd have been far better off living in eighteenth to nineteenth centuries! LOL!

Thank you for ignoring my rather inadvertent note error. I was so aghast when I realized what I'd done, I had to go out and immediately delete the chapter and replace it! It is a good thing everyone in our Phamily was very understanding! Yes, Nadir has proven to be most clever on a number of occasions, I am certain that this will be no different! LOL!

You are very perceptive my dear. The doctor does have a new-found admiration for Nicole, but considering he just met her, I don't know if a romance would be brewing…but one never can tell! LOL! Yet another thing that would drive our dear Erik quite mad…I think he was wanting to play match maker between Erphan and Nicole….Hmmm….

As for you last question dear sister…I shall answer you via e-mail.

Vous êtes trop doux ma chere soeur ! Avoir une nuit merveilleuse! (You are too sweet my dear sister! Have a wonderful night!)

**Batterdchild**: Thank you for sharing. I sort of had a hunch it was something like that, similar to how they celebrate in Hawaii. Since I do live in a place where there is snow during the holidays, I rather have grown to appreciate it. Something about sweating and singing about Jack Frost nipping at your nose, just seems counterintuitive. But truly, Christmas can be celebrated in whatever way makes you, and those you care about happy! So I am all for traditions, even if that means putting on a pair of red shorts and a green tank-top for the holidays!

Thank you for the compliment on Christine's dream sequence. I could just imagine her going through this in her mind as though she was floating along watching it all unfold. Whenever Erik is away from her, all she can do is find a way to get near him in her mind, and this dream I think says a great deal about what she feels she is missing by not being in Paris, and what her heart of hearts would ask for if given just one wish in all the world.

Have a wonderful evening, and do try to stay cool! I should give you my recipe for red and green slushies that we have every holiday. No, no alcohol, but they are extremely refreshing, and lots of fun when we sit around on Christmas afternoon after dinner and play chess and scrabble. Let me know if you are interested, I'd be happy to share it with you!

**Poetzproblem**: Thank you for your kind words on this most recent installment. I loved it myself, and could almost feel the happiness in the air of that room. Yes, DeChagny would no doubt be exceedingly proud, and if that scenario played out…can you imagine his delight? I think it might finally get him over that hump of worrying about what society thought of him….and to have heirs…yes….no doubt that would please him beyond words.

Have a great evening!

**NordyGirl**: So if art is your calling…what is your medium? Oil paints, water colors, precious metals, clay perhaps? I am intrigued my dear, and no doubt Erik would approve wholeheartedly! LOL!

Yes, dreams of our slumber, at least the happy ones, I think are our minds way of creating happy endings that might not otherwise be! Our heart longs for things that we would never allow our conscious mind to consider…but when we dream…..all rules are gone, and our mind can do whatever it chooses…..I don't know about you, but I've had many a dream where I woke to utter disappointment because reality was a much different place than the dream world! There all is possible, all is perfect…and your heart can find peace and happiness….even if but for a little while.

Another terrific selection on your part! Anything from 'Fiddler' always puts a smile on my face…..I'm a bit irritated, though it is rather catchy with the newest rendition (if you can call it that) of 'If I were a Rich Man'…..now morphed into 'If I were a rich girl…' something just seems wrong…..though perhaps kids who have never seen 'Fiddler' might now be interested…oh who am I kidding! LOL!

Have a great night dear N.G.!

**SoaringSpirit27:** I am glad you did enjoy this chapter. Truth be told, yes, a last minute revision did put that song into this chapter, and yes, it was in part because of the comments you made. It does happen from time to time, that something one of our Phamily members says does influence parts of the next chapters, but that is why I appreciate all of you so very much…and why I feel like we are all in this together! Your comment helped remember how important it is to interject, here and there, something from the original story. That music, that song in particular, will always be the quintessential of the expression of Erik's love for Christine. When first he was able to express to her his desire to embrace her as his own…but fully recognizing that she would have to give up all she had… "let your mind start to journey to a strange new world, leave all thoughts of the life you knew before.." He understood what he was asking her, and in one courageous moment, he dared to ask her. Ahhhh….yes…that is the essence of love.

I am happy that your memory bank was erased…lest it lead you to a story line that shall now be altered! I am blushing now…yes….I've had a few requests to have this published, though it would take some editing and revision to ever be ready for something like that….I have thought about it. Thank you for the encouragement.

Have a wonderful night!

**PhantomFan13**: Thank you for the compliment on the chapter. Yes, I think Christine was actually very pregnant in her dream, and what that means right now, I cannot say…though you are right, it would be a ways off.

You are right, Christine knows as much as Erik does about his parents…which is nothing at all. You are in good company…there are many Phamily members who are rooting for a reunion for the family…one just never can tell how these things happen.

Yes, the celebration back in Chauesser…preparations are even now underway for that event, though I am not at liberty to tell you just what yet. But it is, as you may recall, a big celebration for that City, one that they look forward to all year! Hmmmm….

Thank you once more for your kind words. I have promised myself not to go back to previous chapters and read them, lest I become discouraged at how poorly written the first of them were. It is good to hear though that they did improve with time!

Have a great night!

**SilverWolf08**: My dear…I could be mistaken, but did you review several months ago? If not, my apology, and welcome to the Phamily! We have certainly grown over time, and it warms my heart to know that there are others out there that share our vision of Erik and Christine finally being together! It is with much happiness that you have all been so very kind to allow me to share my dream of this story with you! Yes, Raoul, he wasn't a bad man…and frankly, I don't know why stories always have to end up with a winner and a loser…he deserved to be happy too…just not with Erik's Christine! LOL!

Now, as has become our tradition….we simply must know about your tag name. I am just guessing, but does 08 represent the year you graduate…and silver wolf…perhaps your mascot….or…..something else entirely? If you are so inclined, and don't mind sharing…your new Phamily would love to know! It is always so very interesting to find the origins…sometimes that are not at all what we expect!


	160. Cold Hearts, Warm Thoughts

**Chapter 160 Cold Hearts and Warm Thoughts**

**_Dear Faithfuls_**: In the United States, we are celebrating Thanksgiving on Thursday. And Friday, is our un-official shopping holiday! In honor of that most wonderful holiday, I've included some fluff, of the imaginary kind for your enjoyment. I want to take this opportunity to say how very thankful I am every day to sign on to my computer and find heart-felt, sometimes humorous, sometimes sad, sometimes happy, reviews or stories from you my dear, dear, faithfuls. If it were not for you, my dream of having the opportunity to write this story would never have come true. I have so very much to be thankful for this year…and each of you are a great part of that. I feel as if we've all become one rather extended family from all over the world…brought together by one story. We've shared stories, and hopes, and dreams, and plenty of laughs together…for me…that is the greatest part of life…one I am deeply, deeply, thankful for. So here's to you, our wonderful Phamily…may each of you have a wonderful holiday…wherever in the world this story finds you….and, thank you. Thank you from the depths of my heart, for sharing this part of life with me. Angeldreamer

The door pushed open, two figures nearly falling in. They quickly closed the door latching it securely. They were both panting from their toils. Erik presence was not detected yet he felt as exposed and out of place as one could. Surely he'd not be party nor witness to a torrid incident, for he could not bare it. He closed his eyes.

He heard the man begin to whisper. "Now my dear lady, I've kept my end of our arrangement, and I shall expect to see you Sunday evening. Do not test my patience, as you would find I am not someone to whom one should have want to owe a debt, especially one such as yours."

Erik watched as the woman nodded, reaching out to shake the man's hand. It was a simple handshake, nothing more, and then the man was gone.

The woman stood there, completely aghast. She inhaled and exhaled with such force. He could tell she was trying to calm herself, to muster her courage to venture out of the darkness. He watched and listened as she began to mutter.

"It was not fair, I shan't have had to go to that street this time of night. How dare he ask such a thing of a woman, nay, anyone this time of night! How ignorant is this foreigner? Does he not understand …I shan't care…it is not my concern how long the lady's been dead…it is not my…" The woman paused. "Who's there?"

Erik tensed. He'd exhaled, and leaned forward trying to listen to the woman's rantings. He'd thought himself to be quite discreet. As long as she'd not begin to explore he would be safe.

"Who's there?" She called out again. Suddenly, she lurched forward, bursting through the doors, slamming them shut, dropping the latch on the outside.

Erik's heart caught in his chest. She'd sensed his presence. He would have to be more careful.

XXXXXXXX

Christine lay a long while staring into the fire. She really couldn't help herself. She felt caught inside a story as she had so very often when she was but a little girl. She knew in her heart she shan't be thinking of it, but oh what of the possibilities! Oh truly she could not help herself. Her mind had taken hold of the dream she'd had, and she'd given it permission to wander, embracing all of the things she knew to be impossible, but oh, what if they could be? If all had been forgotten, if Raoul had never cared for Christine. If Erik had never been the Phantom. If somehow he was a member of a family…one close enough to DeChagny's to be welcomed into such a special event in a family's life. Nadir, no doubt he was in the dream for her mother's benefit. She smiled. She was crafting the tale, she could make any associations that her mind wished for…for it was but a lovely story, nay fairytale, spun for her enjoyment alone!

She started her story where the dream had ended. Nestling down further into the blankets, she lay tugging at one of the tendrils of her hair, mindlessly wrapping it around her index finger, twirling it up and then slowly releasing it just to start the process over again. And so the story grew in her imagination in this way……

Erik had just said, "isn't she the most radiant woman with child that you have ever laid eyes on?"

Raoul laughed, "yes she is my dear friend. You are a blessed man indeed. If fortune shines upon Meg and I, we shall bare your children playmates within the year!" That caused the men to laugh once more.

DeChagny and Nadir slowly stepped away from the two younger men, preferring a cigar and a snifter of brandy as they sat down by the fire. Raoul and Erik stood side-by-side now.

Christine imagined herself walking in and slipping her hand into Erik's, he slowly drawing her into an embrace. "Mon cheri, how are we all feeling? You shan't overdo my dear, you will be of no use to Meg if you should find yourself over exerted and lying on a fainting couch." He kissed her forehead, as Raoul smiled at the pair of them.

"One day I hope that Meg and I are as happy as the two of you."

Christine smiled up at Erik, then glanced at Raoul, "you and Meg are happy, and will be happier still the longer you are in one another's company Raoul."

He smiled at the two of them, "yes of course, I shan't have implied that we were not. I simply meant once we've been married a few years, have children. Indeed, I've not known many young families that have five children, and are expecting a sixth in but a few years time…and still gaze upon each other with such admiration!"

The trio laughed. Truly having that many children in a few years was indeed something of a trial. Erik looked at Raoul, "my friend, it shan't be an easy thing to manage," he looked lovingly at Christine, kissing her forehead. "It is most difficult for the lady I must say, though Christine seems to handle it quite well."

She wrapped her arms around Erik's waist. "Truly it is the benefit of having several governesses to help with the care that makes it possible, and of course, the efforts of a doting and loving father make it easier still."

Just then Christine saw a trio of toddlers come clamoring in grabbing at Erik's legs, a governess running behind them, apologizing profusely. "I'm sorry mum, Gustav simply cried for his father, I'd intended to bring only him for a moment and then…."

Erik held up his hand, "do not worry, it is alright." Erik looked down pulling one from his leg, holding him directly out in front of him, looking the little boy in the eye, putting his forehead against his own. "And you young man, are you listening well to your governess?"

The little boy started to giggle, wrapping his arms around Erik's head, squealing, "daddy, love daddy, tickle daddy." He was squirming like a bundle of bunnies in a basket.

Erik lifted him high in the air, causing the two other children to squeal in protest, "papa me, papa me!" Erik growled, a hearty growl, making the children squeal with delight. Soon he'd them all up in his arms, one clinging to his neck, the other two each perched on a shoulder. He began galloping around the room causing all the men to laugh, and the children to squeal with delight.

Christine stood next to Raoul, as comfortable as two friends should be. Raoul smiled at her, "one thing is certain, he adores his children" Raoul paused looking at Christine, "and you my dear. I am happy for you. When we were little children playing in the attic at the house by the sea, even we could not have imagined the adventures we'd find when we were grown! How truly wonderful it is that we should be able to raise our families together in Paris! When they are grown a bit more, we shall share stories with them from when we were their age."

Christine smiled at him, running her hand over stomach. "Yes, I'm certain they'd be amused by them Raoul. I am happy for you and Meg. She has always felt like a sister to me, all those years we spent together. Now you shall be like the brother that I always imagined you to be when we were but children."

Raoul smiled at her. "Indeed." The pair turned as yet another swirling brood burst through the door. This pair was a bit older, a girl, with long flowing dark hair, and a young man, dressed in a proper suit for his age, rather square shoulders and a full head taller than his sister. They were tugging at a book, their governess also following in apology.

"I'm sorry mum, they heard the other children had come to be with their father, and Katherine and Stephan simply wanted to join them. I'm afraid they have need for their father to settle an argument over the book they've both laid claim to. There is but one copy, and neither has want to release it to the other."

The pair of children made their way over to Erik, each tugging at a side of the book. "Ahhh, what is it that the two of you have brought for me?" Erik said bending down, putting the little ones down on the ground, much to their protest. "Here, let me see it."

Katherine tugged it from her brother's hands, presenting it triumphantly to her father. "Here father."

He took it, looking into the rather disappointed face of his son. "I see. And you both wish to read it do you?"

The pair stood nodding at him. The trio of toddlers had once again latched themselves to Erik's legs, though he focused his attention on the two eldest children.

"That is a most difficult one. In the thousands of books we've in our library, you've both chosen to read," he turned the binding toward him reading the title, "David Copperfield?" The pair again nodded at him. "I must say you both have very good taste in literature, for it truly is an excellent choice." This made the pair smile, looking at one another.

Erik rubbed his chin. "It is difficult to share a book, I understand…but I've a solution I think shall make you happy…" he smiled and began his rather labored walk, children wrapped about his legs, toward the large divan that lay off to his right.

"Did you know there is a way that many can share a book all at the same time?"

Katherine's face lit like a twinkling star. "Are you going to read for us father?"

He glanced over his shoulder as he came to rest on the divan, the toddlers each crawling up into his lap and he sat with the book in hand. They began to chant "daddy story, daddy story!"

Katherine and Stephan smiled at one another. Katherine took his hand and walked over and sat down at Erik's feet, settling in for what they both hope would be more than a chapter or two. "Do go on father, we most love it when you read…the voices you use, they are most exciting!"

Erik smiled at them, the little wiggling bundle, tapping each one on the nose. "We must all learn to share, for it is the greatest gift we can give one another dear little ones." He smiled, looking each one in the eye, calling them by name. "Katherine, Stephan, Gustav, Sarah, Erika, Christoph." He smiled once more as he opened the book. "Now let me see, ah yes, once upon a time.."

Katherine's nose wrinkled in remonstration, a smirk crossing her face, "father, that is not how it begins, that is how a fairytale, one for babies begins….this is no fairytale, it is a story!"

Erik laughed, "how very perceptive of you mon cheri!" He glanced over at Christine, a loving, grateful glance that spoke a thousand words.

Raoul smiled at Christine as she blushed, looking down as Erik began to read.

"That is the look, the very thing that I can only hope that Meg and I share, for truly, that is love." He smiled at her, "and I….I am most happy for you Christine." Raoul glanced at Erik and then back at her.

Christine shook her head, the story was a beautiful one…oh if it could but be, though she knew it shan't. But, if one could dream, imagine a perfect story….for her that would be this dream…everyone living together in harmony, one large loving family……….

She sighed, exhaling slowly. She stared up at the ceiling. Her eyes scanning each and every dove, each cherub, each heart. Erik put such thought into every face that he painted, no two were exactly alike. He had perfected his talents, no doubt employing different paints, different instruments and techniques over the years. He was a gifted man, in so many ways.

Christine found her hand running over her stomach. She wondered what of their father's talents they would posses as they grew. Would one be a fine painter as he? One a musician as he? One an architect such as he? She smiled to herself. Here she was not half way through her pregnancy, and yet she was already imagining their futures!

She stretched just a bit, her eyes wandering about the room. It truly was beautiful. If Erik had to deposit her somewhere in the City where she could be safe, he could have left her in no more beautiful a place as far as she was concerned. She felt like she was surrounded by him on all four sides, and in his absence, it provided her comfort. She closed her eyes praying for the lot of them once more. The waiting, the wondering, it was the most difficult.

XXXXX

The woman stood as all the staff left the room. She wandered over once more through the hallway and to the rather large window that gave her full view of the city of Chauesser. Her eyes filled with tears as she thought of how very cold she'd been to the woman all those years. She'd never been able to forgive her while she had breath. Now she grieved that she had not done so. It had not been the woman's doing in the first place. She gritted her teeth, but she HAD KNOWN!

She pressed her eyes closed, forcing the tears from their home on the edges of her lower lid. Though she loathed herself for not having the courage to forgive the woman, she simply shan't be able to do it. "Forgive me Lord. You've forgiven me much, and I shan't find it in my heart to truly forgive this woman, even now as she makes her home with you."

She shook her head opening her eyes once more gazing down on the city. She found herself wondering who this man was. Where had he been all those years that he'd been an absentee owner of such a fine house? Where had he spent his years, acquired his wealth? Was he of good breeding?

Courtland the boy had said. The name was not at all familiar to her, and she knew all of the families in the city by name. He was a man of courage and conviction, and she'd want nothing more than to meet, and encourage such a man. She sighed. It would not be many more years that she herself would be able to watch over the city. She'd been looking in the city, for one, just one, to whom she could entrust such a task, and thus far the city had neither produced nor entreated one. But now, now, if the man were to raise a family here, to settle here, the city would be ensured its support and survival if he'd but agree.

She'd have to be clever. It was no doubt that the man shan't be hoodwinked. He would want, no doubt, to know of the source of her devotion to a city, not having family there to vest her interest. She'd have to offer him a conceivable explanation, for the truth simply was far too painful, to pitiful, too incredible to be believed. No, it was a secret she would take to her grave, and finally, the ugly truth would die with her, nary to cause a heartache to another soul again.

She looked once more out at the twinkling lights of the city far below. It was a clear night, a peaceful night. Tonight she would rest. On the morrow all manner of preparations would need to be made for her visit to the city. She'd but one task before retiring for the evening and that was to write the note that was to be delivered to the man's household. She sighed, moving away from the window and down the corridor toward her room, her maid following at a respectable distance. She'd already prepared her room, the covers turned down, a bed warmer tucked beneath the sheets to warm the foot of it.

She settled at her desk with a cup of tea that was brought her. She selected several sheets of ivory parchment, dipping her pen into the well of black ink. Carefully she slid the tip of it along the glass lip of the bottle, gently removing the superfluous ink. She sighed as she put the pen to the page. It would be an eloquent note, for certainly he deserved a congratulatory greeting, though she knew it must be subdued, lest she alienate the man from the first. Yes, she would have to be clever, and tonight, she felt up to the challenge.

XXXXX

Nicole watched for a long while as her mother sat by the fire. The expressions on her face, the tears she shed, the words she uttered, all the process Nicole knew of a soul coming to terms with the prospect of leaving the form it had occupied for so many years. Nicole's heart broke for her mother. How much shall the poor woman cope with? She'd been silently wiping tears on her sleeve as she watched her mother. Somewhere in the midst of it Nicole gave in to the exhaustion and fell into a deep sleep.

The woman sat rocking in the chair by the fire. She was reliving the events that had brought them to Chauesser. Her mother's illness, her husband's death. The suitor that Nicole had left behind…so much a family sacrificed for one another.

Life it seemed was impartial, caring not whom it tumbled about as a weed in a wind storm. Her thoughts bordering on bitter, a biting resentment for the cruelties welled within her, it felt like a poison invading her very being. It was not fair, not for any of them.

Her own mother had a difficult life, and to have ended in such a way seemed far more pitiless than she deserved. Now Nicole would have to endure this loss, this burden, even now without the benefits of a husband. Was the poor girl destined to be a chamber mistress all of her life, never having opportunity marry, to have a family of her own? She could not imagine it. She sighed. At least now she'd have the help of the young man, at least for the year, that was of some comfort.

She leaned her head back, rocking back and forth gently. It was a rather soothing activity. The methodical squeak of a chair, the sound of the wood rubbing against wood as the rungs of the rocker touched the floor. She closed her eyes. She'd rest for a few moments, she was indeed more tired than she'd been in years.

XXXXX

The boy turned round, he could see several pairs of eyes, and his horse began to stamp his feet, rearing up on its hind legs, pulling for all it was worth. The boy quickly mounting the horse knowing full well if he did not, and the horse should bolt, he'd be drug behind it. He'd not even needed to encourage the horse, as soon as he found himself in the saddle the animal thrust its head downward and lurched forward on toward the very house that he'd hoped just now to avoid. He'd pulled on the reins but though it slowed the horse somewhat, the beast would not be deterred. There was danger and instinct had taken over, no bit nor bridle were going to stop him.

The boy looked over his shoulder seeing that whatever it was, it had not pursued them. No doubt it was one of the many packs of wolves that roamed about these parts. On the hunt with the moon high in the sky.

The horse finally slowed as he came to the grove of trees that lay just beyond the edge of the property. Perhaps he'd make a bit of shelter there under a large pine, though he hoped the wolves would not find them there. Perhaps waiting for the opportune moment was not to be. Tonight, discovered or not, he would have to make his attempt. He'd no means of feeding himself nor his horse. He'd no carriage to return for. He'd no home to return to. No family waiting for him. He was tired, he was hungry, he was angry. He was lonely, he was a great many things, but most of all, he was desperate to relieve himself of this great burden. He could do nothing, think of nothing, until his family was properly avenged For that is what his family had done, for generations before him. No, he could wait no longer. Prudent or not, tonight would be the night, for he shan't know if he'd another.

**Author's Notes:**

**Captainoblivious**: Ahhh yes…I'd forgotten just how protective you are with our dear Erik! Alas, no frying pan was necessary! And, I think we have just a glimpse of how Erik is starting to lose his touch with being the Phantom…perhaps the transformation has truly begun!

Now, as far as Rob and the other girl….it is all good that she is the one that chose which means she is not likely to be jealous…a very good thing for you! Going to the same school can make it a bit tricky, but I've no doubt that you are a clever girl and that will all work itself out. And yes, if your real personality and personage are anywhere what your on-line self is…how could Rob resist? Yes, I think he does have good taste! Oh, we never did hear…how did Suzy turn out? Hopefully she is back to her tipp-toppy self!

Have a wonderful weekend my dear…and….put that frying pan away before you hurt someone! LOL!

**PhantomsRogue**: My, my, summer birthdays should never be forgotten! Mine is not all that far off for Christmas, so when I was a little girl, it was often just "combined" with Christmas. I completely understand about the candles thing. Pets, for whatever reason, are curious about flames…and that would not be good! Your puppy and your kitty….have they adorable names? I often find it very interesting what people name their pets. I have a co-worker for instance, that has a new puppy….she named her Truffles! I have a little black Schnauzzer his name is Taylor, though my sister tried desperately to get me to name him of all things…Elvis! Can you imagine calling out the door for the dog, "here Elvis, come on boy!" My neighbors already think I'm crazy, and that certainly wouldn't help! LOL!

My goodness, you have a long trip ahead of you. I hope you get a chance to walk down Michigan Avenue when you are in Chicago. There is something so very dreamy about it. Whenever I am in Chicago, I make a point of it just after sunset. I get a nice big cup of java and just stroll….though perhaps you won't have time. Pumpkin bread, snickerdoodles…sounds wonderful. I love family recipes, and I know what you are saying about not wanting any other kind…there is something special about making a family recipe, its sort of the way we keep our relatives "alive" in the special seasons of the year. I have my grandmother's raised donut recipe, and one for mayonnaise cake…they are the best! I love cheesecake, and in fact, wouldn't mind at all, having your recipe if you wouldn't mind sharing! Who knows, maybe we can get together a Phamily cookbook! LOL! We'd have to include a few of Erik's recipes don't you think?

I hope that your travels find you well, and that all goes safely for you. I am only traveling to my sister's house, which is not far away at all. I am bringing potatoes and rolls, and of course champagne! I am looking forward of course to the turkey, but more than that…to my mother's cherry and pumpkin pies…I say, "life is short, eat dessert first!"

Heureux d'action de grâces à vous la soeur cher. Pouvoir le jour est une bénédiction à vous et votre famille, et pouvoir vous embrasse le jour et votre famille avec le beaucoup d'amour ! (Happy Thanksgiving to you sister dear. May the day be a blessing to you and your family, and may you embrace the day and your family with much love!)

**Nordygirl**: You are such a clever one. I'm sure you'd find it quite amusing that before I begin reading your rendition, I start humming the music in my head and try to imagine hearing the words sung! LOL!

I can only imagine what the feelings must have been for him to be back there. So much of his life was lived in the shadow of the Opera Populaire. He became a man there, wrote his most profound music there, grew to love there, so very much of his life… It must have been bittersweet to return to find his former home much in disarray, but then to find the rest of the Opera House much improved. He no doubt, for lack of a better phrase, felt like he was walking the halls of ghosts. His life has changed so dramatically since he's left there…I cannot imagine what it must be like to go through that. I think that is why I had him spend some time there, setting things in order…it was something that just had to be done, and he…he needed to do it.

Art…yes, there are indeed so many forms, to embrace one is difficult unless it calls to you specifically. Now, I must confess that I have three siblings, all of which were blessed with my mother's talent for art. I am the baby of the family, and well…let's just say the "talent well" was dry by the time it got to me! My siblings can draw a picture with a pencil that looks like a photograph…make floral arrangements that would be worthy of any palace, and paintings…let's say there that my brother used to paint pictures on velvet to use a the church during the holiday season! I however, can barely make recognizable stick people! But what that has made me…is someone who appreciates immensely, the talent of other people, because art is truly a gift. I can go into a gallery and become completely lost for an entire day! In fact I have done that on several occasions, stopping only to enjoy an espresso in the café and then heading back into the gallery. I have one in particular in a rather large city that I like to frequent. It is not so much a gallery as it is a historical building with period rooms from everything from the 14th century on up to the late 1800's. I love going there…it is like walking in the halls with ghosts of talents long past, captured for generation after generation to enjoy. I cannot tell you how many hours I've spent there! Oh, I've gone and gotten sidetracked haven't I! LOL!

You have a wonderful night yourself, and a blessed Thanksgiving my dear!

**Batteredchild**: I shall send you the recipe. It is in my holiday archives, but I will include it for you with the next chapter. It is amazingly simple, and very, very good.

Glad to hear that you agreed with keeping the "Erik chapter" intact. I have been known to drag things out, but that one thing, just had to be kept together, and kept concise. We can all imagine what our beloved Erik must have been thinking through it all!

Now I know you don't celebrate Thanksgiving in Sydney, but if you can imagine all of us in America gathered around a stuffed bird, pumpkin pie, and mulled cider….it really kicks off the holiday season for us here! After a day of gorging ourselves on every imaginable thing related to fall, we prepare for the next day, which is the largest single shopping day in the United States! People are crazy that day. Stores open at 5:00 a.m. in my area, and usually give away free "goodies" for the first group of customers. Christmas cookies and coffee can be found in abundance….yet another way of racking up those holiday calories! I myself am planning to go for two instead of my normal one-hour walk today. Get that metabolism roaring so Thursday won't be so bad on my waistline!

Have a wonderful weekend my dear!

**Phantomfan13:** Not a crazy depiction at all. I rather imagine we all have a little good on one shoulder, and a little bad on the other, always at war with each other! LOL!

You were right, it wasn't Meg and Nadir! Sighs in relief Now as far as the newspaper headline…wouldn't that be something? I hope it doesn't get that kind of publicity, for surely it would make all of those people at the Opera House unemployed because no one would want to go back to a place where he'd waged such vengeance, and if he returned without Christine….they'd all be terrified…though it would make for good headlines! LOL! You are also right, everyone is rather ready for a reunion for this family…but only time will tell when and if it can actually happen.

Yes, you do remember correctly, the day does fall on the day of Erik's birth, though sadly, he doesn't know when he was born so that day is of no particular significance to him….not yet anyway….LOL!

English projects…yes they are fun aren't they! I can recall being in a few classes in college with work groups. It is difficult when you think someone is not contributing in the way that they should. I had one particularly difficult, very complex contract law project that we'd a group of five working on. As it turned out I was the one that ended up doing all the research, all the writing, and in the end, they said, "hey, since you've already got all the stuff, so could you like, just type it up?" Urghh… I did and we got a A+ but what bugged me is that the teacher used it as an example of true team-work for semesters afterward! Oh well, at least when you are doing a project and are the one pulling it together, you do have some control over the quality! Hope it goes well for you!

Have a great weekend, and a happy Thanksgiving!

**Silverwolf08**: Excellent description. Yes, there is something we can all learn from nature. Animals very often can teach us about balance, working together in our respective roles, and about not being greedy. Animals might be barbaric in the way they have to survive, but they never take more than they need. Hmmm…sorry, I've gone and gotten a bit philosophical haven't I?

Have a wonderful weekend, and a happy Thanksgiving!

**Faeriercatcher1**: Thank you for the compliment. I must say I'm rather enjoying the story too. I know it sounds crazy, but sometimes when the story is developing right in front of my eyes I get so excited I want to jump up and down. That is the way I felt with this chapter. After it was on paper, I had to read and re-read it. I loved the way Erik interacted with his children…I could see it all in my mind….it was so sweet it made me cry. eyes get misty, dabs at the corners Oh to be loved like that…

You have a wonderful weekend…and a blessed Thanksgiving!

**LadyWinifred**: Yes, we were inside both Erik and the Phantom's heads. He is after all both people…never having fully let go of one. He was very pleased that they found the plans, and that they'd done what he'd always wished for. You see he always worried for the propriety of the young chorus girls, no doubt something he and Madame Giry agreed on from the start. The men that lived in the Opera House, no doubt would take advantage of the young innocent girls every chance they got. The Phantom of course, was a forward thinking man, and wanted more for those girls. He wanted to see them safe, see them study, see them be able to enjoy one another's company, and from the sounds of the great room that he wanted built for them at the end of the dormitories overlooking Paris, he wanted them to dream….dream of what their life might be like. He had a special affection for young people who were growing into adults….he wanted them to have the opportunities he never had. More than anything, I think he saw what others didn't often see, that they were valuable, each and every one was valuable, and deserved a chance. I just loved that he was thinking of others…notice he never included any improvements for himself…they were always to benefit someone else…including his Christine and Madame Giry. He was and is a man of deep moral conviction, and great strength of character…I've always believed that from the first. Through adversity he grew into a pillar, instead of withering under the weight of it. So now you know…my deepest thoughts of our dear Phantom!

Have a wonderful long weekend, and a very happy Thanksgiving!

**Passed Over**: My dear, I have thought a great deal about you! I laugh, not at you, but with you when I read your most recent review. It sounds so very much like my reaction. I myself saw the film in the theaters ten times, and only twice was with other people! I loved the Phantom, but yes, it was really Gerard's embodiment of the character that I fell for. My family, as well as some of my co-workers make fun of me as well. My sister is especially merciless, telling me I am a bit obsessed. (Little does she know! LOL!) If ever she found I was writing this story, she'd probably have me committed! I laughed when I read that you started snapping up some of his former work. I now own everything he's ever done (that I can get my hands on) other than 'The Cherry Orchard' (which is on my Christmas list) and 'Young Person's Guide on Being a Rock Star'. Some advice, if you haven't purchased 'Shooters' don't bother, there is so little of him in it, it is hardly worth it. Also, 'Mrs. Brown', is very good, but again very little Gerard, but alas, you will see a lot of his skin in one scene where he's swimming in the lake. I've never purchased anything in the horror genre until I bought 'Dracula 2000' and I'll admit I fast forward through most of it, only watching the parts that he is in. Other than POTO, my other favorite of his is 'Dear Frankie'. It is so very sad, since in his own life he was abandoned by his father for a number of years, and had him just show up one day. That had to have been really difficult for him. So you can know that someone else out there shares your obsession!

All his acting aside, he is a person I admire, as much as anything for his courage to do what he wanted to do for a living. I cannot imagine going to law school, and then coming out and saying, "no, I know I've just spent the last seven years in school, and am in debt up to my eyeballs, but I think I'll try acting." That took such guts to do! So, that inspired me, in ways you can only imagine, making me like the man all the more. There is just something about him. Then I read on his web-site that he rescued a drowning child, and a few other things that he did, well…it just made it all the better. He is a wonderful person in so many ways, and whether he ever knows it or not, he's inspired at least one person to try something she never thought she would do….

I am very happy to know that our story helps you in some way. It is difficult when we feel we've shut down, which is what I had done too. I was going through the motions of living, but wasn't REALLY living. I couldn't even see it until the movie/story, woke up a part of me that I really thought had died forever without ever having had a chance to live. I am, and will likely always be a work-aholic. It is what I did instead of actually living….but now I do it with much different eyes. I smile more, I laugh more, and I love those around me all the more…. It is really something how sometimes all it takes to save us from the depths is just one little thing that makes it into our hearts, and lights the smallest candle within our souls. I rather imagine it to be like the tiny candle that starts to flicker at the beginning of the movie. That is what it felt like for me…just a flicker….and now….well…my soul is on fire, for the first time in my life, I am actually LIVING! Could Gerard ever have known that his choice to dare to be an actor, in spite of all of his family's expectations, would in turn affect so many other people, making them feel more alive? Probably not. But because he did, some of us will never be the same. That is why, among other things, I am a strong believer in fate. It is now, just as fate would have it to be. Because of that movie, and my chance to write this alternate ending to the story, I have found some of the most wonderful friends in all of the world. We can share so much with each other without prejudice, without all the other complications of life, because we are all connected by this one thing…the hope that there is great love out there in the world…and that in spite of everything that happens…anything is possible.

Have a wonderful weekend my dear….and a blessed Thanksgiving. We all have so very much to be thankful for don't we?


	161. A Mistake Not Made Twice

Chapter 161 A Mistake Not Made Twice 

Raoul sat down with the doctor as Nadir left the room. The doctor looked over his shoulder. "Meg and Madame Giry are most fortunate women indeed to have such a loyal companion at their disposal."

Raoul nodded. In normal circumstances he'd have been more than eager to elaborate on his response, but with the present knowledge of Crawling's intentions just made plain, he'd found himself quite distracted from being a suitable match for pleasant conversation. The doctor quickly understanding that Raoul was not focused on their present interchange, altered his context.

"Raoul, it is no doubt that you worry of the whereabouts of Crawlings. He has been a thorn in your side since first he…."

Raoul was shaking his head. "No, no, but yes of course, I do worry for his whereabouts as it may affect those in my household. I sir, am not a criminal." Raoul rose, beginning to walk about the room, hand tucked behind his back, the other rubbing at his squared jaw. The doctor looked at him, a bit confused. "But if I were, what might I expect if I were to come upon the very household I wished to deprive of its master?"

The doctor looked at Raoul a concerned look taking over his face.

"Yes, I should think that I would expect them to do exactly as I've just suggested. Sending the women out at first light. Then, the men tarrying, following behind at a safe distance, after first having given the woman opportunity to be off safely." Raoul continued to walk in a circle, around the divan, in front of the fireplace, beside the bookcase, around the desk, and back again.

The doctor looked at Raoul, "what is it that you are devising in your mind Raoul?"

Raoul spun on his heels. "If I were a clever man, I'd set out now, parading as if none the wiser, heading off to the carriage house as if it had been planned. Departing in the sleigh, making a trip into Paris."

The doctor was shaking his head. "Raoul, it shan't be safe to travel before daylight. If indeed Crawlings is out there, haven't you in fact played right into his hands?"

Raoul turned, smiling "it, I believe is an excellent plan. First and foremost, it is not at all what one would expect. No proper household would leave in the midst of the night. Further, we'd instruct a contingent to follow just slightly behind us, providing security should it be needed." Raoul's thoughts seeming more and more impossible as he spoke. "If the boy is out there, prowling in our perimeter, we shan't get far before he'd be fleshed out, and made a swift end to, and then we shan't have even had to expose the women to any dangers, and truly they shan't have even known it occurred."

Raoul was pacing, no longer stroking his chin, both hands tucked neatly behind his back, as a man does when he's made a decision that he shan't have want to be talked out of. "If we travel to Paris without incident, then we shall have opportunity to ready the staff there to prepare a place for the women, and return in the light of day to retrieve them."

Raoul looked at the doctor for affirmation. The doctor had to admit it was a bit unconventional. Indeed, if the boy did wander alone in the woods, he was but one boy, and certainly would not be prepared to encounter a contingent that followed behind Raoul to Paris. Still, he wondered, "Raoul, we are all quite safe here. Far safer inside the comforts of your house, guards in all corners….indeed, far safer than being out in the darkness, unknowing of what lurks about."

Raoul turned to look once more at the doctor. "Yes, there is truth to what you say. I have but to wonder if we might prevent further tragedy this night by pre-empting a strike by the boy, doing what he would not expect. For when light of day arrives, we have given him as much advantage as we have ourselves, for certainly the boy is not blind."

The doctor raised his eyebrow, he'd had to admit the veracity in Raoul's words.

Raoul looked him squarely in the eye. "Do not misunderstand, I've no want for confrontation, and truly, I should like nothing more than to sleep in the comforts of my own bed this night. What I wish for more than this however, is to cause no further injury to those that occupy my household. For what sort of man am I if I shan't be able to avert any possible dangers? I do not wish to be a prisoner in my house, force these women to be prisoners in my house when it could have been dealt with swiftly."

Raoul's body stiffened. For the first time, in a very long while, he was thinking of the last time he'd not been able to protect the woman he loved. He had reacted, not planned and pre-empted. He had allowed her to go when he should have been strong, allowed that beast that monster to take her, for her to return to him out of fear of what the Phantom would do to Raoul.

He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth. He could see it, see it all once more flashing through his mind….the dark waters below the Opera House, Christine rescuing Raoul only to release him and return to the certain fate back in that monster's lair…what kind of man had he been that allowed such a thing? Where had his courage been then? He felt a gasp rise in his throat. He raised his hand to cover it.

"Raoul?" the doctor stood going to him putting his hand on his shoulder.

"No, this is my household, they are my family either by blood or association. I am the master of this house, and I've made up my mind. I shall lure the boy out if he truly lurks about. There will be no carnage here, no further injury to Meg's fragile state, she truly can take no more." He thinking now about how he had told her for propriety's sake that he shan't stay with her at night any longer…how could he protect her if he shan't be able to be at her side? How would he explain his retraction of his statements? He could not merely say he'd a change of heart, for indeed that in itself would frighten the poor dear. Inside his heart pounded. He'd lost the first woman he loved by not facing his foe directly. He shan't be making the same mistake twice.

Raoul stood making his way toward the door He'd have to make the trip to the carriage house, altering the plans that Nadir would have just delivered to them. The men most likely were already planning for bed, at least those not on watch. He'd reward them quite handsomely for their efforts when they returned. No, he had to rid their lives of this most current threat for surely it would hang like an iron stone around their necks until he was found and vanquished.

"Raoul, I implore you." The doctor rose once more, "there are so many risks going out this time of night. There are the wolves to consider…" Raoul had always respected the doctor, had never spoken against the man in any form. Though he'd not wish to be disrespectful to the man now, he had to disagree.

A great tear welled in Raoul's eye, his lip quivering as he began. "You see doctor, I lost the first woman I was betrothed to for lack of courage, lack of will to strike first, to defend her. I acquiesced to the pleadings of a well intended soul, and in the end, it cost me that which I held most dear in this world."

Raoul paused, looking down at the ground. "If I do not do this, and somehow, in some manner or another this boy finds a way to strike out once more at the core of my family, I shan't begin to forgive myself. I am fully a man now, it is time I start behaving as such. If I should die this night by placing myself in harms way, then at least I die with honor. But I do not fear that there shall be death in my household, I can feel it in my bones. That boy must be stopped….stopped before he can strike….that is the only way." He looked at the doctor with such resolve in his eye, that it was obvious he shan't be dissuaded.

The doctor rose, "then sir, let me see to going with you, I shall.." Just then the door opened and Nadir came inside closing the door. "No, I'm afraid it would be best that you stay here with Meg and Madame Giry."

"Nadir, I'd not thought of you to be a man who would listen in on other men's private conversations." Raoul said, now feeling a bit threatened that perhaps the two of them would now try to join forces and out-reason him.

Nadir walked toward Raoul lowering his own voice. "I shan't be as you've said, a man who listens to private conversations at all. If you had intentions on keeping the conversation private, then it would have served your purposes much better if you'd not spoken quite so loudly! True, that I tarried out in the hallway awaiting your conversation's end, but when it did not come, and you grew louder, I felt obligated to tarry there so as to prevent any other member of your household from happening upon the door and finding out what you'd not yet intended to share with them."

Raoul and the doctor both looked down. First impressions, and assumptions were nearly always flawed. Nadir had yet again proven to be faithful and loyal, protecting Raoul even from himself.

"Raoul, it is a risky venture that you suggest, yet it might very well produce exactly what it is you are hoping for. The boy shan't ever suspect someone following him, and he would be rather easy to put an end to out in the country, far from your house, far from where Meg and Madame Giry might view it."

Nadir began pacing about the room as Raoul had done previously, both the doctor's and Raoul's eyes were upon him. "It would be most wise if I should accompany you Raoul. I have been, all of my adult life, an avid sportsman, and no doubt a better shot than half the men in your employ. I shall be the one to accompany you within the sleigh. On your behalf, I've instructed the men to affix a top to the sleigh, and they are in fact doing so as we speak. Once it is complete, we shall make off, you and I, perhaps talking rather loudly of our need to retrieve medicine of some sort or another from Paris, that will be our pretext should the boy lurk close enough to overhear. No doubt we will travel to Paris without issue, arriving at the Opera House in but a half-hour's time. There we can take in some coffee, and if you're so inclined we can return, and once more give the boy opportunity to strike at us if he follows. Now, if we've traveled both ways quite without issue, then you are most likely going to be quite safe here and shan't have ever had to move Meg or Madame Giry, and they should be none the wiser."

Nadir exhaled slightly. Yes, this would serve many purposes. He could return to the Opera House, searching once more, and be able to carry out his final arrangements for Sara. He could then send messenger by sleigh, with Raoul's blessing, on to Chauesser to announce the possibility of their arrival, in truth a warning to them that Raoul might very well be among the visitors. Yes, this would serve all purposes well, and it would cost them nothing more than a few hours sleep. Nadir lifted his pocket watch. It was just now after midnight. If fortune smiled on them, they'd all be back and safely in their beds before the sun rose on the morrow.

Raoul gave Nadir a grateful glance. "Nadir, my friend, I've no wish to put anyone in harms way. Should I be of any other option, I would be most likely to decline your most generous offer. However, the circumstances being what they in fact might, it would be most wise for me to have someone whose comfort with use of weaponry exceeds my own, for surely I am adept with the use of the sword, but the use of arms is a skill of which I have not acquired. It should bode well for the journey should I have the advantage of your company at my side."

He walked forward grasping Nadir's hand. He turned and walked toward the doctor. "Sir, you have long been more than a physician to me, to my family. I know well of your obvious disdain for handling the instruments that have the power to steal the very thing you protect with great sanctity. If you'd agree to stay with Madame Giry, Meg…." Raoul paused, putting his hand on the shoulder of the doctor, looking him squarely in the eye, "I shall be eternally indebted to you."

The doctor looked down. It was certain that Raoul would find greater safety in the company of Nadir than he. Tending to those left behind had become his realm, one he knew well, one's whose art he had perfected. If any could provide successful distraction if were needed, it would be he. He'd learned it well, averting the suicides and breakdowns of many a grieving soul through story or game. Two women who were none-the-wiser should prove to be quite simple.

"Raoul, I shall do as you ask, in part because I have no hope of persuading you otherwise." He glanced up at Raoul, a rather fatherly countenance in his eye. "I shall see to caring for Meg, indeed we've had a number of days of separation, and I've no doubt she shall be in need of examination and conversation. Madame Giry, she is quite a self-sufficient woman, and will not be easily fooled. I pray only that you give me some plausible explanation to offer her should she inquire."

Without much thought Nadir blurted out, "Sara." Both men turned to look at him. He rose nodding his head. "Sara…say we've had some complication taking care of her final disposition, something that could not wait until the morrow…perhaps the undertaker was reticent to take her due to the length of days since her death. It is plausible indeed, and they both could see the sense of urgency in it."

Raoul looked at the doctor. "It would be believable, for they would not then wonder what brought the two of you here this night. They'd thought Nadir to be staying in the City to take care of those arrangements." Raoul turned to look at Nadir, a nearly pleased look overtaking him. "You are a most clever man Nadir No doubt this is a gift that has served you well throughout your years."

Nadir exhaled slightly. It was not to be an easy journey, but now, somehow it seemed, that all of the pieces were being put into place by fates own hands. "Raoul, I shall return to the carriage house, speak to them of our amended plans. You should perhaps change into something suitable, and then pay a visit to Meg and her Mother. Tell them that you've some details of your household to attend to, and that you bid her good evening. Further tell her that the doctor has arrived and should like very much to examine her, and have a few moments in private. By the time you've shared a cup of tea with them, I should have everything in place for our departure."

Nadir stood thoughtfully walking toward the door. "One more thing Raoul, we shan't want them to witness our departure. Perhaps when you are in Meg's room, you might mention that the glow from the fire might well keep them awake, go over to the window that has view of the carriage house and lower the curtains there. I'm certain that there would be no question of your actions, you being a proper host would be inclined to think of their every comfort. Then, in Madame Giry's presence, request that Madeline do the same for her. With those windows secure, then do call for the doctor and excuse yourself. Then I shall have the men bring the sleigh from the carriage house."

Nadir reached for the door handle. "Thank you Baron…dear friend…it is a great service that you do Raoul by staying here with them. Should the worst come to pass, which it certainly should not, they'd be needing you at their disposal. Do not worry, you've put Raoul into quite capable hands. I've protected a dear friend before.."

Nadir caught himself, he could not help but think of the very association between Raoul and Erik that he'd long been suspecting. He swallowed, "I think should you ever have opportunity to speak with him, you would find, that I have proven to be most useful on more than one occasion." Nadir put on his hat, tipping it toward the doctor. "May it go well for you sir, and may the morning coffee find both you and I sitting at the table enjoying it with the entire family."

The doctor smiled at Nadir. He was a far braver man than his appearance of a stout foreigner would ever have allowed one to think. At first appearance, one would think him to be but a jovial story teller, capable of waging no more harm than bruising someone's ego. No, truly first impressions were deceiving, and one should not be so quick to judge, for one truly never knew the courage of another without riding in his carriage for a time.

Nadir departed, tipping his head back in just briefly. "Whilst the hall is still clear, I might remind you to keep your conversations quite lowered, for this is a hallway that Benjamin Franklin would have most enjoyed, its acoustics are really quite astounding…nearly as beneficial to a passing ease-dropper as the one in Constitution Hall in the Americas!"

Raoul nodded. Turning to the doctor he said, "Nadir is something of a marvel. He is quite a learned man. I've often wondered, though I've not inquired quite directly, what it is that the man has done for a living that he is, for lack of better terms, so worldly. Most would not recognize that reference, let alone know of it."

The doctor looked at him with some question. "I dare say I think myself to be a learned man sir, and even I did not understand the nature of his reference."

Raoul smiled, it was a rare occasion that he could share a bit of history with the physician, for he'd truly learned so much from the man himself. It is a miracle at some point when one's teacher becomes the pupils equal, and then begins to learn from the latter.

Raoul stood and walked to the window watching as Nadir walked to the carriage house. "Story has been told, and as I understand its authenticity has not met much opposition as the theory itself has been proven, that Benjamin Franklin, found within Constitution Hall, a precise place in the rotunda that was acoustically perfect to allow him to overhear conversations of others quite on the opposite side of the large hall. It is told that he'd discovered it quite by accident, and then had a rather inviting small table and chairs placed in the most advantageous place. Delegates of opposing opinions would often take up comfort there during breaks in the convention, and he would quite surreptitiously position himself across the hall, far too distant a location for his human ears to be suspected of overhearing any conversation. It was often wondered, and never discovered until after the convention, how the man had known so very much about the opposing sides opinions, or more specifically the point on which they would concede. It gave him a decided advantage in negotiations, and quite the reputation for being extremely intuitive."

The doctor smiled. "It is quite a story Raoul, how very clever a man indeed."

Raoul looked out the window once more. "We best begin our arrangements sir. I'll instruct Madeline to prepare a room for you. I will do as Nadir suggested and alert Meg to your arrival. I shall have her bring you a pot of tea here. It should be but half an hour, no more, and I shall return for you and take you to her. Is there anything that you require, that I might provide for you?"

The doctor shook his head, "Raoul, it is a most brave thing you do. You do not need to play host to me sir, you fix your mind on returning here safely, I shall see to making sure all that you return to as comfortable as possible." Raoul gave him a grateful smile, and was gone.

The doctor walked to the window. From the outside the carriage house did not reveals its secrets with the exception of the few windows in the dormitories that were lit and then quickly extinguished. He shook his head. He had every hope that Raoul's plans would succeed, and that they would meet with little if any danger along the way. His intention had been to make Raoul more cautious, putting extra guards in place, staying indoors. He'd not expected to put him into motion, but he had, and there was no way of retracting the information, nor altering the events that would follow.

XXXXX

Erik made his way out of the Opera House. He knew the journey to the woman's house well, having made it on more occasions than he could count. The shortest route would take him but a street away from LeMortem, and he'd had it in his mind now to pay a visit to the undertaker if a light still shone in his window. He knew he'd pass nearly undetected there, as no one, save the other undertakers would see him, and they, well, they did not socialize with others in the City so their gossip stayed within their own walls, dying there.

He'd had want to make certain that all had been taken care of on Sara's account. Surely the woman would have already been buried, and all other affairs set in order, he simply wanted to know where she had been buried so that he and Christine could pay a visit to the grave on their way out of Paris, giving even more visible purpose to Erphan and the other young man who'd accompanied them. It was a good plan, and truly he'd no other way of knowing of her final disposition.

The first blocks were quiet, no movement nor lights in houses nor buildings was to be seen. The weather was fair, and warming a bit, making the snow sink beneath his footsteps. He'd not preferred that there be footprints left behind, but he'd no choice now.

Block by block he moved without incident until he arrived on LeMortem street. It was dark and as ominous as Erik remembered; the tidy length of stone buildings showed nothing to betray their purposes. In fact if one did not know Paris, one would never suspect that it was all in one street that the dead were tended to, and surely not one as mundane and unassuming as this one.

Erik walked down the path that had been cleared. To his relief, there was still a light in the man's window. Erik made quick work of the remaining distance, lifting the heavy knocker on the front door. He stood a few minutes as he listened to a pair of heavy feet shuffle toward the door, opening it just a fraction. He knew the man would neither recognize him, nor remember his voice, but he would try to make a comfortable association.

"What business have you here," the man said raising his head to look over Erik's shoulder looking for a sleigh or some other means by which yet another coffin would make its way to his front door.

"I've come regarding a woman that you would have received several days ago. I am but here to be certain that her final expenses have been taken care of, and to learn of where she is now buried so that my wife and I might pay our final respects to the woman…she was a family friend, and we did not have opportunity to attend services for her." The latter part a lie as Erik knew there would have been no formal services, merely a priest at the graveside with Nadir and nothing more unless he'd found her children that quickly.

"And of which woman do you speak?" The man enquired opening the door just a bit more, to take a better look at Erik.

"I am sad to say I know only her first name, Sara, her last name escapes me just now." Erik hoped that this would not dissuade the man from telling him that which he inquired.

The man opened the door fully, "do come in out of the cold sir." He ushered Erik in, looking out the door as he closed it, there was no sleigh, the man had come on foot, how very odd indeed. "Come, come, do sit for a moment."

Erik joined the man at the desk, his eyes gathering in the sickening sight of the walls.

"I must say for a woman I've never heard of, she's caused quite a stir in parts of Paris, for you are the third, nay, fourth person that has found their way to my establishment this very night on her account!"

Erik tilted his head sharply, "Whatever do you speak of? Did her children themselves miss the funeral, coming here instead?"

The man laughed. "No sir, I've not seen her children, just a rather stout man, and a maid and another rather unkempt man from the Opera House."

"Nadir?" Erik said under his breath, his head turned down his eyes darting back and forth at the floor those his mind was focused on anything but. What would Nadir have been doing here that night, and what of the maid and the other man of which he spoke. "I am sorry, I do not understand, why was it that the stout man as you'd put it, why was he here tonight, had you not received payment previously?"

The man laughed, "Nay, and I have not still, in fact that is why the maid visited this evening, no doubt with the other man as her escort. She came to deliver a note from the stout man who had been here only hours before delivering the woman's body. Thankfully it had been already prepared, or I'd not have been able to take it in for it seems she's been dead far too many days already and should have long been buried by now."

Erik's mind was racing. What on earth had happened, had the storm delayed Nadir, why else would he have tarried, and why not until tonight had he delivered her? Why had payment not been made….was Nadir still in the City! Erik's heart began to race. "Good sir, may I inquire as to the nature of the note?"

The man looked at him a bit suspiciously, normally he'd not share such information.

Erik looked at him, sensing his hesitation. "As I said, I've come to assure you that her account be settled, and in fact I am prepared to do so at this very moment. I only have need to know if this man, this friend is still in the City so that we might meet."

The man hesitated still until he watched as Erik retrieved a rather large sum from his pocket.

"I shall see to the bill sir, and perhaps find the note for you." The man disappeared behind the rather tattered door, upon opening the sickly scent wafted out into the small room Erik sat in, making him cover his nose and mouth. It was a putrid smell; a combination of body fluids, incense, and embalming preparations. It truly was beyond repulsive.

It took no time at all and the man was back, handing first the bill to Erik. Erik in turn handed him a sum of money more than sufficient to cover the expense. The man took it, and in return, handed Erik the note.

As the man began counting the funds, Erik took the note from the envelope and began to read.

Dear Sir:

It is much to my regret that I'm obligated to send this note. I am truly a man of my word, and in conveying to you a promise to make payment in full before the sun rose, I'd every good intention to do so. To that end, I make my apology. I've encountered something of a most urgent nature that calls me away from Paris to the house of Raoul DeChagny this very night. As I've not the funds at my disposal at this location, and shan't have opportunity to procure them before my departure, I shan't be able to return until the morrow. It is my sincere hope that you shan't base your entire opinion of me, or those I serve, on this one incident alone for it is most certain that I do not conduct business in this way. To ensure you that I've every reason to return, you may inquire at the Opera House as to my whereabouts. I shall be at DeChagny's house, as I have taken up residence there however temporarily as his guest. I do beg of you your tolerance. I shall be in to settle the account at the earliest possible arrival. Nadir

Erik flipped the paper over. What urgent business would Nadir have at Raoul's? Erik's eyes scanned the note several times more…urgent nature…travel by night…Nadir would do no such thing unless something indeed necessitated it. He'd little to base his next maneuvers on other than his gut instinct. He waited until the man finished counting.

"Did either of the ones who delivered this to you say anything at all of what business this man was called away?"

The man was shaking his head. "They said nothing other than the man was insistent it be delivered tonight, and that he'd left in a rather hurried manner." The man sighed, tucking the money beneath his vest, smoothing it down.

Erik was standing now. He would check the Opera House in the morning for it was certain that Nadir had intentions to return there. He thanked the man, and turned to leave.

The man said, "don't know why you've all been so determined to venture out on a night like tonight with that Crawlings boy still roaming loose. Not that it's been bad for business mind you." The man said, rubbing his pocket. "But I'd not venture out unless I had to. It's been mentioned, rumored you, that he's his eyes set on some aristocrat, apparently a score to settle….at least that's the word. One can't trust everything one hears." Erik nodded. "Thank you sir, you've been most helpful." Erik donned his hat once more and he was gone.

Once back outside he closed his eyes. He had to decide now. Something had called Nadir urgently to Raoul's. It could be Meg or Madame Giry, or perhaps he'd heard something when he was at the Opera House. There was so very much that Erik did not know about what had gone on with Nadir these last days. What Erik did know is that whatever had called Nadir away, would have been urgent, for Nadir never, NEVER, left an account unsettled, it was not his way. If Nadir had felt so strongly, surely Erik knew it was serious.

Erik looked down LeMortem street. One way would lead to Christine, the other would lead back to the Opera House where he knew he'd have no trouble procuring a horse, going to help Nadir if it was needed…but it was at great risk, he'd have to hide in the shadows, though he shan't be recognized, and could likely pass for a traveler venturing out after being stranded in Paris by the storm if he was discovered.

He stood in the middle of that street looking left and right, not being able to decide. He pressed his eyes closed, exhaling. His breath held, his eyes closed until he began to feel the pounding of his heart in his chest, the very beat of it in his ears. He inhaled slowly, raising his eyes toward the cold earth that lay off in the distance. He'd a promise to keep. He turned, his cloak swirling behind him as he made his way down the street, a determined look on his face. He'd keep his promise.

**Author's Notes:**

**Captainoblivious**: Put that frying pan away my dear, before an accident causes some unintended injury! With finals week surely at your doorstep, you cannot afford a broken foot, or some other swollen extremity! LOL!

Good to hear Suzy is back in working order after her day at the "car spa" but oh my, what a bill indeed!

Christine's dream was something wasn't it? Ahhh…yes…the wonderings of a young mother's heart. They can be quite something.

Have a wonderful day!

**Phantomsrogue**: You are quite right, and quite observant…yes…she is expecting triplets. Funny how the mind imagines things though….I don't think she herself caught that little tidbit. I just loved how Erik interacted with his children, and how he looked adoringly at her….sigh….

A good rich cheesecake recipe would be good. I myself have baked New York cheesecakes, which are quite dense, so I think it might be along the same line.

Ninnah and Chulo! I love it! Perhaps if Erik and Christine ever find a pet, we shall have to use one of the names! I could just see Erik with a cat named Ninnah couldn't you? LOL!

I hope you had a wonderful, and safe, Thanksgiving holiday. You certainly were racking up the miles! Mine was wonderful. I had all the people I love around me. The only down side was that my mother, bless her soul, made pie upon pie, but somehow forgot to make pumpkin! Can you believe it, no pumpkin pie on Thanksgiving? So, my cousin ran around town and found what we believe, was the last pumpkin pie in the city! We will have a good laugh at my mother's expense over it for years to come. Thank heavens. I have been the family joke for more than several years because I forgot the cranberry relish one Thanksgiving. Now my mother can take over the throne for awhile! LOL!

French quotes indeed. For tonight, I shall simply say Bon Nuit mon cheri!

**Nordygirl**: Never too early for holiday music my dear! I think I would be content to listen to it year round! LOL! Hanukah is a wonderful season too. I've often admired the eight night tradition before the official holiday. I must admit I only understand parts of it, and I know that there is significance to each night. It is a wonderful time of year for families and friends, no matter what we are celebrating!

Yes, if Erik and Raoul run across each other, well…let's just say that would be most interesting wouldn't it? Erik of course wouldn't be surprised, but you can be certain Raoul would be!

Have a great night!

**Phantomfan13**: Remember that Christine's dream was a daydream, one where she was in full control of the circumstances. Yes, it would indeed be wonderful if it could all come to pass. I think Erik and Christine would be one of those couples who could raise quite a brood of children, and each one would receive individual attention and turn out to be sensitive intelligent people. Just a hunch! LOL!

That is right, I forgot that your Thanksgiving was a month ago, how very remiss of me! I am very full of turkey, as I recall you were too after your celebration! It was cold for us this past weekend, and we did get snow, just in time for shopping mall excursions! But it did not deter us however! I bet you are happy that you didn't have the estimated snow that they forecast, or maybe not. There is nothing like a good snowstorm once in awhile that forces us to stay at home, cuddled under blankets, sipping hot chocolate, and watching movies….ahhh….one of the finer things in life!

**LadyWinifred**: Yes, a gaggle of children would be a welcome thing for Erik and Christine. I have hopes that they would have quite a large family, and that Erik and Christine would be able to settle into a normal life raising their children, and loving each other until death they do part. Oh what a wonderful dream it would be.

Have a great night my dear!

**PassedOver**: Thank you for the compliment on the chapter. I could have spent a great deal of time focusing on Erik's feelings with what he'd thought when he was in the lair. No doubt he'd been rehashing so many things, mulling them over and over in his mind in disbelief. So much had happened when he lived there, and yet, so much more had happened since he'd left. It is a strange thing when you've been obsessed with something, as he was with music and Christine, and then life suddenly deposits what you've longed for in your lap. Sometimes it is a let down, but in this case, Erik embraced it with a grateful heart. Though now he has the task of working out all the details in his mind, reconciling his past with his future, which no doubt will be a difficult thing indeed.

Hope you enjoyed this most recent chapter!

**Silverwolf**: I had a wonderful Thanksgiving, and I, as I am certain you did as well, put a considerable dent in my pocketbook on Friday! LOL! The good news is, I can take several people of my list now! Oh, by the way, I don't mess with what's important to me…I'd never bet my copy of POTO on anything! LOL!

Have a great night!

**Faeriecatcher1**: Yes, I rather enjoyed Erik with his children, it will remain one of my favorites in this story I think. Erik did have some sort of closure at the Opera House, though I am not entirely certain that he won't find himself back there again!

**Phantomphorever**: Good to hear from you my dear! I hope all is going well for you. Your story was very touching…if only every child that had needs like this could be so fortunate as to have a compassionate person in their life…someone who is patient such as you. That is a truly heinous thing to have happened to that poor child. The poignancy of your fascination with the story of POTO is not lost in this case I'm certain. It is not at all unlike the story of POTO when he was at the hands of the gypsies, but far more horrific because it was not a story…it was that poor child's reality. I know you are not likely to feel you want praise, but you should be commended for being such a wonderful person to take this task upon yourself. It is a difficult thing to share love with someone who is so very damaged, to let them know that there are good people out in the world, that not all people are cruel and heartless, and that they can trust….I know this all too well…it is part of what I do… I will add this young man, and you, to my prayer list my dear. It is a very brave thing that you do, and just know that someone out there is rooting for you!

**SilverRains871**: Good to hear from you! I understand about being busy…it can be difficult to keep up with everything in our lives!

Thank you for the compliment on the chapter. I am certain that you are getting as anxious as the rest of the Phamily to see Crawlings made a swift end to!

Have a good night!


	162. And So It Passed In The Dark of Night

Chapter 162 And so it Passed in the Dark of Night 

Nadir was busily giving information, orders, specific details to the carriage master. "It is most important that everything appear to be as usual. Yes, a carriage departing this time of night might likely be out of the ordinary, that is why the rather loud conversations out of doors are a necessary part of we have need to do if the boy is about."

The carriage master was not at all fond of the plan that had been made, quite without his permission, or even the courtesy of discussion. "It will take a bit of time you understand, to do all that you've requested." He looked at Nadir as he put on his cloak.

Nadir nodded his head. "Yes, yes, we know that it will take at least an hour's time before you'd have everything readied."

The man turned to glare at Nadir, that was a statement that fell short of his comprehension. "An hour or more sir. We've much to prepare as you've said."

Nadir nodded his head. "I do understand, but allow me to state this plainly. The life of one of the family members in this household you now serve may be in jeopardy. If you find your position, your surroundings, or take comfort in all that is provided for you and the men who work for you, then I'd think this but a minor request. Indeed, if the morrow would find a most unfortunate turn of events, then all of these comforts, these positions would cease to exist as they do now."

Nadir looked at the man, his eyes suddenly stony and level. He did not wish to be misunderstood.

The man nodded, the gravity of the situation had not fallen on deaf ears. "It shall be done. An hour's time, perhaps a bit more. You have my word."

Nadir nodded to him. "I'll share of your cooperation with the Vicomte, and I extend to you his most sincere gratitude." Nadir turned and was gone.

The carriage master was in swift motion. There was much to be done, and he would see to it personally.

XXXXXX

The boy watched shivering from beneath the pines. He could hear the wolves howling at a distance not terribly far from where he now hid. He waited and watched. Several men had come and gone from the carriage house, the last, a rather stout man had gone into the house and now the yard was quiet. It had been so for a long while.

The boy scowled, he could only imagine they'd built that large a fire to deter the wolves from coming into the yard. He thought it odd that no dogs were out; perhaps they'd been taken in for safekeeping. Whatever the circumstances, it seemed as though the timing would be near perfect. He'd no choice now but to take the horse with him, with the wolves about. It would make the travel much easier to detect, but as long as he saw no one, he could travel the distance quite easily.

Slowly, slyly, he moved step-by-step closer to the back of the carriage house. The distance took a long while to cover. He stopped ever few meters, allowing anyone who might see something to wonder if it had been their imagination. Soon he was behind the building. He could hear movement though he saw nothing. Something was going on in there, though he knew not what it might be.

It was perfect. All who would have born witness to his movements seemed to be quite occupied with other things. Indeed perhaps fortune had smiled on him after all. He would leave his horse there, and make his way to the house. If he made it that far undetected, he was certain to be victorious, for no one was as skilled at sneaking through a domicile as he…his father had told him as much.

XXXXX

"Forgive me my love," Erik said, a tear welling in his eye as he turned on LeMortem Street, heading back toward the Opera House. It was the only way that he could be certain that the dream did not come to fruition. For if he had been early, far earlier than the premonition of events, he'd have to see to preempting the very catalyst for them, whatever it proved to be….by all means necessary.

Erik had surprised himself at how easy it had been to leave the stables of the Opera House with a horse. True, they weren't taking in boarding horses just now without guests at the Opera House, but he'd thought there to have been some sort of guard that should be posted, though tonight he was entirely grateful that one had not been there.

He moved with some difficulty through the city, leading the horse by the reins. Inside he was entirely grateful that they'd found his horse in the stall beneath the Opera House, for he'd not had opportunity to set it free before he'd fled with Christine. True thought that fateful night he'd unleashed it, removed its bridle, but the horse had refused to move from its home, for it had been the only home it had known. Now, he'd have opportunity to ride the horse again, and it was more pleasing than one could imagine. Thus far, Erik was pleased that the crust on the snow seemed to hold its own under the weight of the horse. He could only hope that it would manage as well once he'd mounted the beast.

He'd made the journey to Raoul's house only twice before. Once after he and his father had become patrons of the Opera Populaire, and once more after he'd noticed that the Vicomte had taken a fancy with his Christine. He'd not really intended to harm him, but he had followed his carriage home one night after a production. Not really certain of what had motivated him, though he'd stalked him that night as if he was his prey.

The journey there tonight would be much different. He'd no idea how or if he'd be able to find Nadir once he arrived. He'd discovered the location of Raoul's room on a previous visit, and he'd had a hunch he knew which room he'd settled Meg into. For there was one corner of the house whose courtyard would be most pleasing to the eye of a woman. No doubt the guest rooms would be on the same level, somewhere between the two ends of the house. He'd find a way, somehow, to make his way to Nadir.

This trip to Paris from Chauesser had produced many revelations. Sara had yet to be buried. His former home had not been completely destroyed. The Opera House had been re-fashioned using his plans. Now this…whatever it was that had drawn Nadir out.

As he reached the edge of the City he thought of Christine. That last longing, pitiful look on her face as they'd parted ways. He was certain, he promised himself…this would be the last time he would separate the two of them until the children were born. Those who were part of their life would have to settle into whatever position they chose for themselves, excepting the consequences of those decisions. At least for a time, Erik's entire focus would be on Christine, and seeing their children safely into the world. Yes, after tonight, he'd focus on her, and nothing more.

He left the lights of the city behind as he moved passed the last row of buildings of the City. He'd travel to Raoul's, speak with Nadir warning him not to go into Paris, travel back to the City, and by that time it would be mid-day. He'd take in supper, and visit with the woman. Afterwards, he'd head back to Chauesser with Christine. Yes, it was a good plan. Providing there were no delays or complications, he'd be back in her arms before nightfall on the morrow.

XXXXX

Raoul sat with Meg and Madame Giry sipping their tea. In Raoul's absence, Madame Giry had helped Meg ready herself for bed, braiding her hair, applying the salve. Meg was relieved to hear that the doctor had returned and that Nadir had as well, though she shan't really know why.

"If the two of you will excuse me, I should like very much to return to my reading." Madame Giry said as she stood to go. She secretly hoped Nadir would pay her a visit, for no doubt something had compelled him to return, and she wished to know what, or more specifically whom.

"No, mother, if you'd not mind, perhaps you could sit with Meg until the doctor arrives. He's but settling into the room we've prepared for him. He'd like to visit with Meg, examine her, and the like. It would be good for Meg if you'd agree to stay with her."

Madame Giry nodded, thinking it a bit odd that he'd be leaving Meg's side once again, but she'd not question it.

Raoul stood, he'd almost forgotten. "Here Meg, allow me…" he went over to the curtains that were toward the back of the house. "There is no need for you to be kept from your slumber by the growing flames of the fire outside" he said as he loosed the curtains from their pullbacks, they fluttering into place over the window. He drew them together so as to not permit even one shaft of light to enter the room.

Almost on cue, Madeline walked through the door with a hot pot of tea. "Doctor ready, you see him?" She said to Raoul.

"Yes Madeline. And Madeline, do see to closing the curtains in Madame Giry's room won't you. I do not wish to have her sleep disturbed by the fire outside. No doubt they'll tend to it all evening."

Madeline nodded, "as wish Monsieur."

"Now Meg, mother, if you'll be so kind as to permit me, I shall fetch the physician for you."

Meg nodded, "that would be most acceptable Raoul."

Raoul walked over kissing her on the forehead. Then he turned to Madame Giry taking her hand, kissing her knuckles. "Ladies," Raoul said and then departed. He was quickly out into the hall. He'd retrieve the doctor and be on his way down to join Nadir. Thus far everything seemed to be going as planned, he could only hope his good fortune would continue.

XXXXX

Nadir made his way back out to the carriage house. He'd stow his weapons in the sleigh, the purpose would not be questioned. He glanced over at the fire. He'd not seen the eyes of the wolves as he thought he might. He tilted his ear, yes, he could hear them howling off at a distance, no doubt the fire had proved to be the proper discouragement for them.

There was something unsettling being out in the yard at night, no dogs to alert him to the presence of any unwelcome guests. If ever there was a more proper invitation for someone wishing to enter the compound undetected, he couldn't imagine it. Yes, he'd requested that the work be done within the hour, though he'd not thought the man to be foolish enough to pull all of the guards from the grounds to accomplish it.

The distance from the house proper and the carriage house was a few minutes walk across the snow. The winds had begun to blow again; the former softening crust was firming underfoot. The drifts were diminishing, though now compacted and solid, nearly earth-like. Nadir scanned the perimeter of the yard, at least that which the light from the fire allowed. Everything beyond it was as black as pitch.

Nadir slowed his pace, feigning that the snow had become a bit slippery underfoot. He would tell the carriage master to return at least two men to their posts guarding the house. He would scan what he could see easily to be certain all was secure before he himself would enter the carriage house making the house itself completely vulnerable.

Nadir's eyes were keen as he bent over under the pretense of having dropped his glove. As he rose his eyes caught it, two pair of eyes, glinting just beyond the carriage house. One much higher than the other…it was not the wolves…Nadir knew it well, it was a rider and his mount, and they'd been there with no intentions of being seen, for surely the man would not have dismounted and stayed in the shadows unannounced.

Nadir wanted to grab for his pistol, firing a shot in that direction, though he knew not what he would find. What if it were merely a traveler. No, he'd continue on his way, though now a bit swifter in his gate. He'd keep an eye on whomever it was until he was just at the carriage house. Then he would slide along the edge until he reached the corner, taking the rider by surprise.

Nadir's heart was racing. If this was indeed Crawlings, he was no doubt looking for Raoul, or he'd have shot Nadir dead. No, he was waiting, hoping to use his element of surprise to his advantage. Had it been any other man Nadir thought to himself, he'd have already betrayed his knowledge of the intruder's presence. But, Nadir was well experienced in this area, indeed more than he'd ever hoped to be.

He moved a bit swifter and was within ten meters of the carriage house when he heard the door of the house open. He spun around, and to his horror it was Raoul, walking out onto the veranda as open and clear a shot as any man could have want to have. What happened next seemed like a blur.

Nadir watched as the figures in the shadows moved swiftly from the edge of the building, the shaft of gun now lifted and aimed at Raoul. Nadir screamed, Raoul looking in horror in Nadir's direction before he fell to the ground. Nadir was screaming loudly as he ran in the direction of the boy who'd mounted his horse and was riding away.

The carriage house came to life, men scrambling from every door. Nadir looked once more into the darkness and then back up toward the house. He ran as fast as his feet would carry him toward Raoul. He felt as if he flew up onto the veranda, leaning over Raoul.

Raoul was breathing heavily though he tried to lay still. Nadir said, "Raoul, dear God Raoul!" Nadir's heart was pounding. Had he found Erik's brother only to have lost him? Had he failed at protecting them both?

Raoul lay still but began to speak. "Nadir, do not worry, I've not been struck by the bullet, though it did graze my shoulder, see look at the top of my jacket." Nadir glanced down, and surely there it was, a rip clean through the top of the fabric, never having made it to any part of his flesh.

Nadir gasped relieved. He gave Raoul a tense smile. "It is most wise of you to stay down on the ground, allow us to carry you in as though you've been hit. I've doubt that the boy would still tarry, but if he would be so bold, let us give him no cause to stay." Nadir stood, as the other men joined him from the carriage house.

The carriage master arriving at his side, a sheer look of horror coming over him, as he heard Nadir's words replaying in his mind. He glanced at Nadir.

Nadir said to him, "do take him inside swiftly". With that Nadir turned and took off on a dead run toward the carriage house. He'd have himself a horse and be after the boy. This was the last night that he would cause this City, this family any heartache, at least if Nadir had anything to do with it. This time had been too close, and he shan't give the boy another opportunity.

Nadir neither invited nor cared if any of Raoul's staff would be following him after the boy. Nadir had tracked many a man that ran from him, and he was quite capable of doing this alone.

The men scrambled taking Raoul inside. Two men were posted at all the corners of the house, several more going up the stairs to make certain that the doctor and Madame Giry and Meg were secure.

The man rapped on the door. Madame Giry had gone on to her own room, and the doctor sat visiting with Meg. "May I have a word sir?"

The doctor rose, excusing himself from Meg. The two men stood out in the hall. Meg could hear their muffled voices through the door, though she'd no knowledge of what they spoke of. She'd heard the single gun-shot, no doubt the wolves had returned she thought…how very dreadful. There was something to be said for living in the City. Though there was no lack of dangers lurking there after dark, at least they were human and somewhat predictable. Living in the country outside of Paris was a different thing entirely. She shuddered, settling back in beneath the blanket. She'd have to become accustomed to it if she were to live there with Raoul.

It was only a minute or two and the doctor returned, smiling at Meg, trying not to betray all that he knew. He turned closing the door behind him. His eyes pressed closed as he recomposed himself. He turned once more to face Meg. He'd had a story in mind, but she posed the question.

"Was it the wolves, returned once more?" Meg gave him a concerned though not threatened glance.

He breathed a small sigh of relief, that was even better than what he'd concocted in his own mind. "Yes, I'm quite afraid that it was." He walked back over to the divan and sat down in front of Meg. "Now, where were we. He lifted his magnifying glass asking Meg to lean forward.

He carefully examined the texture and lines of the scar. This is nearly healed. I've but a few snips really and the stitches will be able to be removed. Meg shuddered. She knew it shan't be a pleasant thing. "My dear, here, let me give you something. It shan't be without a bit of discomfort. He pulled a bottle from his bag.

Meg stood, walking toward her nightstand. "Doctor, these pills remain." She said retrieving the bottle and shaking it in her hand.

The doctor smiled at her. He was a bit relieved she'd not needed to take them. No doubt she'd been coping much better than he'd expected. The subsequent conversation would be far easier to have, and he had to admit he was a bit too distracted with this most recent development to be as attentive a listener as what Meg would likely require now.

"Ah yes, that will work." He smiled at her as she walked over with the bottle. He drew her a bit of water in a glass, she took it and swallowed one small pill. The doctor lifted the damp towel that he'd placed under the teapot. It was sufficiently warm. "Here my dear, hold this against your cheek, it should make the tugging a bit easier on your skin." He handed her the towel, and she pressed against her cheek. "I'll be back in but a moment my dear, I've need to retrieve one final thing from my room." Meg nodded as the doctor stood and retreated.

Once in the corridor he made his way as swiftly as he could to the lower level. True, he knew Raoul had not been struck, though he did worry for the young man. He found the lot of them in the study.

Raoul was pacing the floor, speaking in rather fevered tones. "I know I shan't be that lucky twice, but why is it that we cannot send out a party to search for the boy, finish him, put an end to this once and for all!" He paced the floor tensely.

"Vicomte, we've no idea if the boy was alone. With the wolves still out on the hunt, and the speed with which he departed, and he thinking you to be dead, there is no way to know where he might have gone, or if he's but to set a trap to kill even more of us."

Raoul was flailing his arms when the doctor made his way into the room.

"Raoul, you are well?" Raoul looked at him nodding his head rather irritatedly.

"If it had not been for Nadir's quick thinking I shan't have been as fortunate." He paused, looking around the room, "where is Nadir?"

The doctor returned to the hall, saw no one. He walked to the end of the corridor to see a young man running toward the veranda from the carriage house. He opened the door, scanning the grounds, "what is it?" he yelled before the man arrived.

He yelled back, "the foreigner, he's taken a horse, he's gone sir!"

The doctor looked out in horror, Nadir had gone after him, alone! He rushed back to Raoul, quite out of breath. "Raoul, Nadir, I'm quite afraid, he's gone after the boy!"

Raoul spun on his heels, "What?"

The doctor looked at Raoul, "the stable boy, he said that he took a horse and he's gone."

Raoul looked at the floor, then glanced at the carriage master. "You must, if you value your employment here sir, you shall take four of your finest men and go after them. We shan't have a guest of our household left alone with such a criminal."

The carriage master looked at Raoul, trying one last time, though he knew in vain to dissuade Raoul. "Vicomte, it does not bode well for so many to be away from your house, what if the boy returns, who then…." He lowered his head, receiving the blunt look of consternation from Raoul. "As you wish Vicomte."

He and the men that had joined him departed for the carriage house. They'd have to put saddles on all the horses that had already been attached to the sleigh, it would take a few minutes time, unfortunately giving both of them a head start.

XXXXX

Erik traveled swiftly over the snow. Now outside of Paris, he had to use what landmarks he could remember for the path to Raoul's. He was nearly certain he could recall all of them, and knowing full well that there were few other properties in that general vicinity made the task much easier.

He had to admit being out on the horse in the moonlight was not entirely un-enjoyable, though the circumstances were not what he would have chosen. He'd spent a great many hours on horseback in the moonlight, for him it was like second nature.

He let his thoughts drift to Christine. No doubt she and the woman by now would have sized one another up. He hoped, though he almost knew she would be, most hospitable to Christine. He wondered how long it had taken the woman to realize that this was likely the object of his affections all those years, and if Christine had yet seen all of the paintings. There would be so much to explain to her. Yet another piece of his past he'd not spoken to her of.

His brow gave a twinge. He felt a bit of guilt for having told Misty about the goings on in Chauesser before he'd even had opportunity to tell Christine. The urgency of the situation had necessitated it, he rationalized, but it still did not sit right with him. Christine needed to know of what happened, for certainly upon their return, word would have somehow reached the house, if not by Misty, then certainly whomever she chose to accompany her. He hoped it would not be any well-intentioned souls that would have wandered out to pay tribute.

He shook his head, oh how he'd want to forget it all now. Had it not been for Christine's request to tarry at the winter house, they'd happily be at Courtland Manor even now, but he acquiesced, agreeing to stay. It made him wonder if he'd have taken Christine all the way from Courtland Manor had she been there when she'd had the dream.

Ahhh, those infernal possibilities. They mattered little. What did matter was that he had found nothing, nothing at all at the Opera House. If the visit with Nadir went well, he'd warn him not to venture to the lair, and all would be well. He could return to Christine and they would be on their way home.

Erik was startled from his thoughts. He strained his eyes. Yes, he was certain that was the large grove of pines up in the distance, though he wondered why there was some source of light behind them providing him with some vision of a defining silhouette. He rode toward it. That simply had to be Raoul's home, it was indeed in the correct location if his memory served him well.

Erik cocked his head. He thought that he was mistaken, but then he brought his horse to a stand still. He was certain that he'd heard what sounded like the pounding of hooves, much like what one does of a horse on a firm dirt path. He sat in utter silence. He could hear wolves howling in the distance…but that wasn't it. No, there was someone coming, and whomever it was, they were in a hurry! He'd no wish to be discovered, but at the same time he was curious. If it were Nadir, he'd have want to stop him before he returned to Paris, though there too he'd have want to be careful, Nadir was most skilled in dealing with someone who caught him by surprise.

He'd try to stay as still as he could, for truly there was no where to hide that he shan't be observed now. He waited for what felt like an eternity, until he saw approximately seventy-five meters to his right, a horse, a cloaked rider on a dead run, snow churning in his wake. It was a rather large horse, and a small rider, and though Erik had no idea whom it might have been, he was entirely certain it had not been Nadir.

Now the question in his mind. To follow him, or to continue on to Raoul's. A tingling sensation ran down his spine. What if it had been Crawlings himself? Erik hesitated looking after the boy and then back towards Raoul's house. It was the second time in a few hours time he had to make a decision that led him in two very different directions. He really must speak to Nadir, but if it was Crawlings, he might very well have waged some terrible thing at Raoul's house, and if not found and dealt with swiftly, he might be lost yet again for months again, only to resurface once more. But, if it was not Crawlings and Erik chased down yet another unsuspecting person, one of Raoul's staff or a doctor perhaps, then he'd have much to explain about being out there in the dark of night, and who indeed he was. He was truly in a quandary.

When he'd been beneath the Opera House his decisions were far less complicated, and far more calculated. Now, they were anything but simple, and there were far more variables. He lowered his head, he'd have to decide and do so quickly.

Just as he was about to say a prayer, his head tilted, was that the sound of yet another horse? Erik's pulse quickened. Yes, it was the sound of yet another beast pounding its hooves against the hardened snow. He'd wait, whomever it was they were no doubt in pursuit of the first. Perhaps knowing that would aide him in making his decision…indeed, if the first man was worth pursuing, perhaps it was Crawlings, in which case his decision would be simple.

Erik looked once more at the line of trees. The silhouettes were becoming more and more defined, the light behind the tree line growing even brighter. A lump grew in Erik's throat….was Raoul's house on fire? Madame Giry, Meg…he'd not be able to live with himself if something had happened to them and he'd stood by and done nothing. He waited, as soon as the horse passed he would head to Raoul's. His discovery would have to be explained but he'd no wish to think of that now…

Just then the man on the horse that approached passed, somewhat closer than the first. Erik strained his eyes. It was a much stouter man, on a much smaller horse, he could tell. It wasn't until the horse was well passed and he heard the man let out a yelp, that he realized who it was that pursued the first….it was Nadir.

Erik never looked back. If Nadir had left the DeChagny house behind it was either far too late to be of any good, or he'd interrupted an attempt….whatever the case, he knew Nadir would not leave Meg nor Madame Giry behind unless he had no choice.

Erik turned his horse on its' hind legs, quickly darting off to catch up with Nadir. For surely wherever Nadir went, Erik would follow him now.

**Author's Notes:**

Dear Faithfuls: I am sad to learn that I might no longer be able to share responses to reviews with you as I have these many long chapters. If what I have heard is correct about this new FanFic rule, I shall comply, though not without much sadness. The story has been wonderful to share, but I think what has made us feel like a Phamily, has been sharing with each other in the reviews. I will let you know more, but if they would threaten to pull the story, then I shall have no other choice but to comply.

**CaptainOblivious**: Yes, a reunion would be most magnificent, though there are a few things to clear up before that is possible…Hmmm…

Finals week….I remember those well. I used to stay up all night studying. In fact, I got quite a little baking done while I studied because I reasoned that I couldn't very well go to sleep with something in the oven! LOL! Oh, I am thankful those days are behind me now….though…I am thinking about going back to get my doctorate…. Have a wonderful week, and get that studying done early…we don't want Erik to chase you down to get good grades now do we? Well, perhaps in your case that isn't proper motivation….you'd probably rather enjoy being pursued by the Phantom! LOL! Hmmm…perhaps we shall send Crawlings after you if you don't study! There, that should do nicely, yes, very nicely!

Have a good night my dear!

**PhantomsRogue**: I shall try, sister dear, to get to your e-mail as soon as I can. Alas, the question as to which way Erik went on LeMortem, was answered in this chapter, though I rather think that everyone was wishing he would go the other way! LOL! But he is a friend through and through, and is very logical. He has spent years being logical and calculating, a habit he is likely never to give up. If Nadir had gone out of the City at night…there was good reason, and he'd not leave his friend alone to face whatever it was.

Thanksgiving family jokes are always fun. I suppose that is why they make movies about coming home for the holidays. It is fun, and we look forward to it, but there is no absence of stress or complications no matter how well laid the plans are!

Bon Nuit mon amie!

**Poetzproblem**: Good to hear from you my dear! Yes, I too wonder what Raoul will think of all of this when and if he discovers the truth. He is something of a sad sort really…yes, entirely clueless…though I don't think we should count him out just yet. He was raised well, but has a mind of his own. I shall say no more.

I gasped in horror when I read your note about the reviews not being able to be part of the story. I shall check into this right away…though it saddens me to think we shall lose connection with one another…I think the Phamily has grown quite attached to one another. Perhaps there is yet another way…I shall do some checking. Thank you for the heads up though. I have to admit I don't regularly read all that Fanfic posts, so I'd have missed that if you'd not have mentioned it. Then one day we'd have gone to the sight and the story would have been gone….I shudder to think of it, so thank you, thank you, thank you.

Have a great night!

**NordyGirl**: Thank you for the compliment. Yes, I have considered writing professionally, though I'd doubted anyone would have read what I wrote. That is why I often express my gratitude to the Phamily because you've all given me courage to try! I've actually four other stories, nearly finished, that I've been penning for years. Once I am finished with this story, I'm going to turn my attentions to those, and another project that has become near and dear to my heart. I shall mourn the day that this story finishes however….I cannot even think of it without becoming all teary-eyed. I shall quit speaking of it now, lest my tears begin to roll, dropping onto my keyboard, thus making is short circuit and electrocute me….thus bringing an abrupt end to the story…..LOL!

You also have a wonderful night!

**Diveprincess**: My dear, you have had a very difficult year indeed! Through difficulty we build strength of character, though it is often not easy. If you can think of life as one large muscle, and the painful events that happen as growing pains, you can put into perspective why those things have to happen. Without them, we would never grow and become strong. I pray that 2006 is much more calm for you. I am sorry to hear that your friend left you so soon. Sometimes it seems unfair, that the "good ones" are taken from us far too early. But from what you've said about her before, it is no doubt that she served her purposes well here on this earth…touching many lives. I have no doubt also that you are thankful that you sent the letter to her before she passed. There is something comforting in knowing that you've shared your appreciation of her life with her while you still could. There was a song in the 1990's that made me think of this so often, I wish I could recall the name of it just now, but it talked about appreciating people while they are alive because its too late when they are gone. If I think of the name, I shall send it to you. Mrs. G. would be proud of you for keeping a smile on your face. Educators are a unique bunch of people….if they feel that they've contributed to making your day brighter, your world a better place, then they feel they've accomplished their mission…I'm sure Mrs. G. would agree. I pray that your heart heals, and in time, can recall with great fondness the wonderful times you had with your dear, dear, friend.

Have a peaceful night my dear!

**PhantomFan13**: I smiled when I read your review. If the story can make you jump up and down, I have succeeded in making it one that touches you….there can be no greater joy for a writer!

I am sorry for the absence on Friday…I should have been more specific about the days I would be gone. I smiled, and my heart warmed, when I read that you worried for me, and of course for the story should anything abruptly happen to me. Perhaps I should revise my will to include instructions for someone to update with a final chapter in the event something happens to me! LOL! I've said before if the story ends abruptly, we will all know that God has spoken!

In answer to your question about the information on Benjamin Franklin….yes, it is true. I must reveal another one of my passions….the Constitutional Convention, and everything that surrounds it. I spent an entire semester in college entirely enthralled by a class about that very subject. I ended the semester with a trip out to Philadelphia, where I actually stood in Constitution Hall….I cannot tell you how it felt to be there…to see the very desk where Benjamin Franklin sat…his inkwell and plume still in its place….So yes, I did watch 'National Treasure' in fact this past spring a dear person in my life bought it for me. There are some mis-truths in the movie, though I won't point them out lest they actually diminish the enjoyment of watching it, but overall I did like it. I can see where you would think the treasure was the Holy Grail…unless you'd studied it at all, that would seem to be the most logical treasure that someone would guard with such ferocity! The Knights Templer…there is much to study there if you are interested, though some may seem to be myth…unless you talk to one…they hold it very near and dear to their heart. It is likely that those treasures are all together, hidden for centuries for man to discover…and I'd bet there are people who spend their entire lives in search of it. 'Da Vinci Code'….I haven't brought myself to reading it yet…I've a few concerns about the book…but they are my own. I might try watching the movie first to see if I should invest the time in reading the book…. Have you ever read the book series 'Left Behind'? As I understand it, 'Da Vinci' takes an entirely different slant on a similar subject…and that is what I struggle with.

I hope your knee is feeling better…I guess that is the down side of having your computer where it is my dear! Have a great night!

**BatteredChild**: Storms and hay-fever…not a good combination. Yes, sneezing does interrupt being able to lead our normal lives…it is annoying, and just plain uncomfortable. I do not have that allergy, but every August where I live, something is blooming that makes my eyes itch terribly for about a week. Not quite the same as hay-fever though! A three year old? Was this your dear little one?

You are right, Madame Giry just tapped me on the shoulder and said "excuse me, have you forgotten someone?" LOL! I do understand what you are saying, it is much easier to read when you can focus on just one person….but alas, then when I go back to the other characters…it leaves us scratching our heads saying…what was happening with them again? I have yet to perfect the perfect model…perhaps I shall learn to do so with time!

Yes, I had a wonderful holiday…family, friends, and good food…who could ask for anything more!

Have a wonderful night!

**Silverwolf08:** Ah yes, some things such as copies of cherished books are among the most sacred things I own…anyone who appreciates literature, as I think all in our Phamily do, would not let them out of their sight let alone use them as a bargaining chip! LOL!

I was happy to arrive home yesterday to find my shipment from Amazon had arrived, yet another four gifts off my list! I have made a small dent in my list, but an even larger dent in my pocket book. I still have to order my copies of POTO for my relatives. They still think I'm crazy….and I don't want to let them down now! LOL! Oui, ceci est la vie, il est compliqué !

Have a great night.

**BohemianPhantomlovr**: Welcome to the Phamily my dear! We hope that your stay with us will be a long and happy one! Thank you for your persistence, and willingness to read so very many chapters! I hope that in the end it the story will have been worth all of the hours our dear Phamily members have invested in reading it!

Now, as has become our tradition, we simply must know how you arrived at your tag name! I am assuming that you have Bohemian roots, or perhaps are from Europe even now? The Phantomlovr part….well, let me just say, you are in very, very, good company in this Phamily….we all wish to have a little piece of the Phantom for our very own! LOL! If you care to share about your tag name, we'd love to know!

**Murigen258**: Welcome to the Phamily! We hope your stay with us will be a long and very happy one. I too am glad you were able to catch up with us, though it is no small undertaking! As for those that conspire against you…remember adversity builds character, and nothing builds it more than persistence under pressure! As for spending time with dad…did you need to have a day to recuperate from the visit, or did you contract a cold or flu during your stay? Either of course, would be most unfortunate.

No, you were not rambling at all my dear. In fact we have a rule about that sort of thing…well…sort of…I am likely more verbose than anyone you are likely to meet…and my thought patterns usually tend toward the strange…so I think pretty much anything goes in our little Phamily. I totally understand where you are coming from with Erik and with Gerry…little does the man know how much an influence he has been to people around the world…me included. Though I have little hope of ever meeting the man…I do feel like I've received the best part of him….his example of being willing to dream…and going for it! So, even if he never knows that I even took a breath on the face of this planet…I will have received a gift from him. Admiration or inspiration can come from people whom you've never met…too bad your teacher didn't give you the freedom to choose that part!

I am truly humbled by your compliments on this story. I have probably said this far too many times to members of our Phamily, but I consider it a gift that I have been able to write this revised ending to the story of POTO. It is a dream come true for me. It has been the encouragement of our Phamily that has kept me going on this story…and draws me back every day…hoping to make someone out there in the world smile….even if for a brief moment of their day! Yes, publishing it would be wonderful….I think I may have found a place that would be willing to do it…though copyrights to the original POTO could be a problem. Hmmm…much to think about!

Now, it is our tradition that whenever a new member joins our Phamily, that I attempt, sometimes very feebly, to guess the origins of their tag name. Yours, I must say, is something quite vexing. The only stab I can take is that it Murigen is your last name, and 258 is your house or apartment number? I am likely way off…please, if you are willing, do share with your new Phamily!


	163. Fate

**Chapter 163 Fate**

Christine jerked awake from a deep sleep. She wasn't sure what time it was, or what exactly had caused her to stir. The fire was warm, no doubt recently tended by Erphan. She stretched just slightly, slipping from beneath the many blankets that had provided her with such comforting respite. She walked quietly to the door. Before she even reached it, she could hear humming. She smiled, no doubt the woman had been up all night working on the jacket.

Christine parted the curtains. It was still night, the dark hallway gave no hint of impending sunrise. Perhaps she'd not slept as long as her body had thought. She knew she'd no chance of returning to sleep, feeling sufficiently refreshed, so perhaps she would pay the woman a visit.

As she wandered down the hall toward the room at the end, she at first wondered why there was no light, but then chastised herself yet again. The woman had no need for light. There was only a faint glow from the fireplace that had been lit solely for the benefit of keeping the woman warm. Christine wandered back to the room she'd come from, lighting the candlestick that sat on the table, carrying it back down the hall. Perhaps a visit with the woman, some company, would do them both good. No doubt the woman would enjoy the conversation, and Christine would welcome the passage of time.

"Hello.." Christine said as she pushed the curtain aside wandering into the room.

"Whatever causes you to rise dear child? Do not tell me that I've become so slow at this art that it is already morning!"

Christine reassured her, "no, it is still night, though the exact hour I shan't know." Christine looked around. She was fairly certain that the bed she'd seen before was indeed where the woman slept. It looked comfortable, and tidy, but nothing more. She glanced at the woman. She was busily sewing up all of the seams. The jacket lacked arms and a proper hem, but Christine could see the beautiful embroidery on the back shoulders that no doubt had taken the woman considerable time.

"May I join you for a spell?" Christine said, looking around for a chair. Finding none, she saw a simple stool in the corner, walking to retrieve it.

"I shan't mind the company my dear, if you cannot rest, I understand. A young bride to be separated from her husband, it is most difficult." The woman said smiling and nodding as her hands busily pulled thread through the needle and began attaching one of the sleeves.

Christine sat in marvel at how the woman used her hands as her eyes, flipping the garment this way and that, pausing from time to time to feel the hem, and the width of the stitches with the tips of her fingers. "Yes, it is difficult to have him away. We've only been married several months now, and I do miss him whenever we are parted."

"I can imagine it is difficult my dear. So, I've a question, I am most certain I already know the answer to…is he as handsome as his voice sounds my dear?"

Christine laughed a little, easing the woman's fear that she'd been too forward. "Yes, perhaps even more so." Christine laughed once more.

The woman replied, "I shan't have believed that he was anything more than modest! He had such a beautiful spirit, though I fear he'd suffered much, perhaps a great rejection, though he'd never spoken of it." The woman flipped the garment yet again, another row of stitches needed around the arm.

Christine sighed, she somehow felt so comfortable in that room, with this woman. "The pictures Madame, I am simply astounded by the number of pictures he'd painted for you. Had you ever any offers to buy them?" Christine said, making a bit of conversation that seemed quite harmless.

The woman's face grew cold. She was silent for a moment. Her upper lip stiffened. "Yes, as a matter of fact, I did." She grew silent once more.

"And you'd not the heart to sell them?" Christine inquired.

"No, I shan't, and if I had ever been so inclined, it would not be to the likes of them! It was some snobbish woman, and her entourage; she'd an accent that I'd not recognized. She said she must have the collection, that it fit with others that she had in her palace." The woman laughed. "It was all very insulting. She'd stopped here on reference from another family in Paris. She'd wanted a dress for herself and several other women in her group." The woman turned and spat on the ground.

Christine's brow furrowed. "No doubt she'd have offered you a tidy sum for them, then you shan't have had to toil as you do." Christine said as she looked around at the bolts and bolts of fabric.

The woman sighed, "even you my dear, at your tender years, realize that there are things in this world that are far more important than money." The woman flipped over the garment, feeling about the sleeve once more before she smiled, and reached for the next. "He likes his sleeves rather long as I recall." The woman said as she began to attach the next one.

Christine had to admit, her curiosity was peeked. "So how did you deter the woman? No doubt someone that arrogant was not easily discouraged."

"It really was not all that difficult. The first term she requested was that she meet the painter in person, so that she might be able to procure a future appointment to have a portrait made of her family."

Christine shook her head. Surely the woman knew not of his deformity, or his aversion to people. "What was your response?"

The woman chuckled. "Now my dear, I do not lie, in truth I abhor it. But in this case it was entirely necessary. You see I'd promised to keep his identity secret, it was indeed part of our initial negotiation. So I would have done him a greater disservice by going back on my word, than protecting him with a simple untruth."

Christine waited patiently. Whatever the woman had said had obviously worked well or she'd have not taken such pleasure in the triumph.

"Ah yes, just a few more stitches here, and that should do nicely." She felt about the rim once more. "You see, it was not true, but fashion a proper untruth I did. I told this pompus sultana that he'd contracted a fever and died a quite pitiful death the year before." The woman laughed. "She then suddenly lost interest in the paintings and left seeming quite injured. She'd not even stayed to have the garments made. I heard her mumbling about wanting to return home immediately, that their search had produced nothing more than rotting fruit! I never heard from her again!"

Christine shook her head, "wealth and privilege often do not make for a better person. It is nearly always true that possessing too much, makes one callous and unfeeling. Wanting that which is not theirs, simply because they feel they've some inherent right to it because of their wealth. Truly, some of the finest people I've ever had privilege to know, were of meager means in terms of worldly wealth, but were rich in so many other ways far more priceless than gold." Christine's mind wandered from person to person in her life that were neither wealthy, nor snobbish, who'd been generous and compassionate with her when she'd needed it most.

The woman smiled, "I can see why he loved you. All those years he spoke of your good spirit, your kind soul, he was certainly most correct my dear…you were meant for one another." The woman laid the jacket down on the table, smoothing it with her hands. She'd a final inspection to make before she put the finishing stitches in place.

Christine was at once thankful for the woman's blindness. Not out of cruelty, but for selfish reasons. Her cheeks were a deep crimson…he'd no doubt spoke of his love for her to this woman. And though the woman had not eyes in the literal sense, she could see that Erik and Christine were a perfect match.

Christine rose from the chair. "A cup of tea Madame?"

The woman smiled. "Yes, I think I'd love a cup, and my dear old hands could use a bit of rest. Come child, I'll show you to the kitchen. Perhaps we can sample some of those cookies that the two boys have been nibbling on all evening!" She walked out into the dark hallway, calling back over her shoulder. "And do bring that candlestick with you my dear!"

Christine lifted the brass-handled sconce and followed the woman down the hall. A cookie did sound rather fetching just now. She smiled, and a piece of fruit perhaps. Remembering Erik's words as she ran her hand over her abdomen.

XXXX

The woman laid the ivory parchment on the small table near her bed, removing the spectacles from her eyes, placing them on the table. She grew tired. On any normal evening, she'd have been asleep long before, but this night had produced several surprises, and was anything but normal. She stretched tall straightening her nightdress. Her long locks cascading over her shoulder. Though grayed by age, there were hints of its former luster. Some onyx strands had simply refused to lose color, as though they'd held on to her youth, the way her heart had hung onto hope. She ran her hand over her face. Her skin was of the fairest ivory, nearly flawless, offset only by the delicate pink of her lips, and her striking blue eyes. Her high cheekbones and noble brow gave her a look of regal elegance that were the envy of women half her age, and the object of many a disappointed would-be suitors. No, there were only two men in her life she had ever loved….one with whom she had shared warm embraces, and one she'd never touched. She could forget neither of them…not even after all this time.

A perfect pairing she thought, as the Lord took one from her, he'd provided the possibility of another. Perhaps this one would be far more pleasant than all the others she'd held on to. He was not of the painful past that she shared with those who'd died before her…he was of the future…the future benefactor for the City of Chauesser if he could be persuaded to be as much. No doubt the promise of inheriting her wealth would not likely be an influencing factor, as it seemed he must have wealth of his own, having seen to the final arrangements for Victoria.

That name….it even burned on the tip of her tongue when she said it, but it was more painful still rambling about in her mind. She tried not to think of the woman, but at some point each day her mind had wandered to her….that dreadful feeling of a seething hatred soon followed, that followed by self-condemnation, and then acceptance. It was a vicious, painful cycle that had become as much a part of her day as having morning tea, though considerably less pleasant.

She lifted the small silver bell that lay on the tray next to the emptied teacup. Then she carefully folded the pages and slipped them into the envelope, quickly pouring a thick drop of black wax, pushing her seal into it. Lifting it from the quickly cooling wax she looked at the imprint. She'd never picked a specific shape or insignia, preferring only to have a generic treble mark. She'd not wanted to embrace her last name, for in her heart she belonged to another, so she picked the love in her life, music, as what she wished to be remembered for.

The maid quickly appeared, retrieving the tray, waiting with her head down.

The woman lay the letter on the tray, "do see that the young man receives this tonight." The maid curtsied and departed. The woman went to her bed, climbing in and extinguishing the light. She was tired, indeed, very tired. The morrow would bring much preparation, but at least she'd finished her part, and she was sufficiently pleased with the contents.

XXXX

Erik's horse was less than capable of keeping up with Nadir's, as his had just come from the stable, Erik's having just completed the trip in from Paris. A million things ran through Erik's mind. There were memories of past events which he swiftly put from his mind. Then there were thoughts of events yet not arrived. Those were what he would cling to. They were the hope of his future, the redemption from his past. The wind had picked up just slightly, making calling out for Nadir nearly impossible as they were riding into the wind. A gunshot would only further frighten him, making him likely to turn and retaliate. There was simply little Erik could do but try to keep up until Nadir overtook whomever he was pursuing or abandoned the chase, which Erik doubted would be the case. He kicked his heels into the horse, but stroked his mane, knowing the beast was doing all it could.

Nadir had paced the horse quite well, though he knew he was falling further behind the boy. The increasing winds made it all the harder to be certain in the near pitch night sky that he was indeed still following in his tracks, though he had a feeling he was by the tracks in the snow. His pulse quickening with each length of the horse's stride. He'd had his weapon at his side, exposed and ready as soon as he could get within firing distance, he would take care of this swiftly.

Erik was gaining on Nadir, though he tried as much as he could to stay off to the side, hoping that Nadir would recognize this silent language that the pair had shared in Persia. Nadir had oft told him, "enemies pursue from behind, strangers from the left, but a friend, he follows from the right at a fair distance until he is recognized." Erik could only hope that Nadir would recall his own words, lest this night end pitifully for them both.

Erik leaned down trying to aid the speed with which the horse could move. In doing so he put his head close to the beast neck, giving break from the wind. It was then that he heard it. Hooves, a number of hooves, yet a distance away, but most decidedly coming up from behind him.

Erik's eyes grew wide. Rauol would certainly have sent support for Nadir, it made sense. Erik swallowed, perhaps Raoul himself would be among them. Oh how Erik was torn. He could slow down, allow them to pass and assist Nadir, returning to Raoul's house to speak with Madame Giry and Meg. He could slow and follow, taking Raoul down, none being the wiser, in fact the blame would fall squarely on the shoulders of the Crawlings boy. Though Erik was ashamed for thinking it, it would indeed resolve a number of issues that had arisen since the Raoul appeared months ago.

No, Meg was fond of him. And though part of Erik loathed Raoul, even still, he could do no such thing to someone who had extended such generosity to Meg, Madame Giry, and even Nadir. No, if Raoul died this night, it would not be at his hands. He had saved Meg from a certain fate….no…even though it would make Erik's life less complicated, he could do no such thing…it would make him no better than the beast from Persia…depriving people of their lives merely because they'd become an inconvenience.

The decision sprang into his mind, and before he'd a moment to consider it, he embraced it. He leaned even further down on the horse, giving it several sharp jabs to its side. The horse responded as though it could sense the urgency of the situation.

It was not long before Erik began to make loud clicking sounds with his tongue. He had no idea if Nadir would hear them, but he simply had to try. The closer Erik came, the louder the sound he made. He could tell Nadir had heard something, for he could see the man begin to slow his horse looking over his shoulder this way and that. In but a moment, Erik was in that pivotal position, completely vulnerable, and completely within range of Nadir's pistol should he mistake Erik for another.

Erik glanced to toward the sky "God help us!" He cried with a plea. He closed his eyes for a brief second then delivered two more jabs to the horse's side. He found himself moving closer and closer to Nadir. He could see Nadir was reaching for his pistol. Erik inhaled as deeply as he had ever in his life, then releasing with such force the sound even startled him, "NADIR!"

Nadir spun around on his horse, his hand moving abruptly from his weapon to pull on the reins of his horse. He thought he'd imagined it. That voice….it belonged to one person alone. But it could not be! He was with Christine, safe and warm at the winter house, awaiting word….then he heard it again, this time a bit louder. "NADIR mon aimee!"

Nadir tugged hard on his reins. If it were his imagination, it was the grandest hallucination he'd ever had. It was but a few seconds before Erik was at Nadir's side, removing all doubt. The men were both short of breath.

"Nadir, my friend, there is no time to explain. A contingent follows close behind me no doubt from Raoul's house. Return to Raoul's, STAY THERE….tell them you lost the trail…I promise the boy shan't return."

Nadir was covered in sweat, relief but such confusion in his eyes. Indeed there was no time to speak of how the pair had found each other on this bit of earth. Nadir reached out, doing the only thing he could, grasping Erik's shoulder, gasping, "God's speed to you sir, thank you."

Erik nodded, "They are well? All of them?"

"Yes" Nadir said. Erik sighed, the fire had not consumed them. "Stay at Raoul's, do not come to the Opera House. I shall find you at Raoul's, or send word to you as to a meeting place. Promise me that you nor Meg will venture out until you've heard from me."

Nadir looked all the more confused, but quickly agreed. "Done." With that the pair of weathered friends exchanged one last glance, and then Erik was gone.

Nadir tarried, perched on his horse. He could hear pounding hooves moving in both directions, some toward him, some away from him. He sighed, his breath rising toward the barely lit sky. The earlier cloud cover was beginning to break once again. He could but wait now for them to catch up with him. From what he could hear, it would be a few minutes only. He lit the single candle and set of matches that he had in his pocket. It would be his only way of signaling to them, for no doubt they'd not see him. No, waiting was all he could do, though he'd rather be at Erik's side keeping his promise. But Erik was right, this was the only way. If Nadir could not take care of this boy himself, he knew of only one other person that was better at this than he….and that was the one that now pursued the boy…truly…he was a master at it. I all of the years Nadir had known Erik, he'd not failed….not once.

XXXX

Raoul paced heavily in the library. The doctor was at his side. "We should return to Meg. She will be wondering where I am. I told her I had to but retrieve one thing from my room. She is even now holding a cloth to her cheek in anticipation of having her stitches removed. I've given her something for the impending discomfort, but no doubt would not mind having your hand to hold. That indeed would explain the delay in my return."

Raoul was huffing. "It is most wise what you suggest, I am simply…" he stopped pacing, inhaling, and exhaling slowly. "This infernal pacing…it is a habit, a most annoying one, that I've inherited from my father's example."

He stood behind the divan, grasping the back of it with both hands squeezing until his knuckles were white. "Yes, yes, it makes the most sense. I can be of no use to Nadir. The finest men have gone to join him. They shall either find and vanquish the boy, or will return to protect us. Whatever the case, I have little control over the outcome. But Meg, yes, I can be of use to her." He stood, running his fingers through his hair, straightening his jacket, repositioning his cravat. "Yes, you lead sir, I will follow."

XXXX

Erik glanced up at the sky. The departing clouds were giving way to a star filled sky, giving some illumination to the night, making it far easier to travel…far easier to hunt. Erik could see the outskirts of Paris off in a distance. He'd been following the trail of the horse, he was certain, the newly churned snow was good evidence that he was on the right track. Erik had reconciled with the beast below him. He leaned in closely, the horse moved ever faster, with no further encouragement. Perhaps it had been a horse in races at one point in its life. Erik had neither ridden the beast nor seen him for months, but it had taken but this one ride for the horse to remember him.

Erik felt a creeping feeling crawling up his spine. He knew what must be done when the boy was finally found. For if he did not strike first, surely the boy would. He remembered the last time he'd seen him, though it was somewhat of a blur. Suddenly a rage grew within Erik. It was at the hands of this very boy that Sara had been deprived of her life. It was at the hands of that boy that he'd thought to have killed Erik himself. Erik had no desire, nor use for suppressing this rage now. He would need to muster all he could to swiftly deal with this boy, for it was certain, if he was not put to an end, he would but further wage his treachery, and who next…what other poor family would be deprived of its father, a husband, a son? No, he was a man of conscience, and he knew regrettably what had to be done. This boy would do no more, no more harm.

He stroked the horse once more, patting its shoulder just beneath the neck. The horse gave one bolt, no doubt the last surge of energy the beast had as they reached the outer edge of the City.

The boy hadn't even looked back. No doubt he'd thought foolishly that he'd out maneuver whomever pursued him within the City. He turned down this street and that, ducking into alley after alley, to no avail.

It was in one fateful second that he turned to glance behind, just as they came beneath the lights of the cathedral. It moved in seemingly slow motion, a second being a minute easily if not more….the boy's head turned, glancing over his shoulder to see a man on a rather large black horse, cape flying high behind him. In that brief moment Erik sat nearly upright on the horse.

The boy gasped…his mind surely deceived him…was this not the man he'd killed not long before in that pathetic excuse of a hamlet hours from here? He gasped, yet there was something far more frightening than thinking him to be a ghost, as a shadow passed over Erik's face, the boy wasn't at all certain that he'd not been pursued by the Phantom who'd gone missing several months ago with a young girl! Which would be worse, he knew not. He jerked his horse hard to the left. There was one place he knew, none would follow him, for if they did they certainly weren't from the land of the living, for none dared trod there.

Erik leaned down once more shaking his head. If the boy thought this would deter him, he was entirely mistaken. His head next to the horse's head, he pursued him. It took but several minutes and Erik's suspicion was confirmed. There was but one place that this road he'd now turned on led, and that was to LeMortem Street.

The boy had taken up a slight advantage, having somehow put a small distance between them. As the boy approached the row of single-story cement buildings, he turned sharply once more to the left. This would surely do it, and if not, he was running from more than mere mortals. His head spun over his shoulder once more, he did not see the man behind him as he moved swiftly down the alley behind the undertakers. It was the place in the City that all feared more than any other, the river of blood ran behind it, and all feared to trod there.

As he entered, he had want to cover his face, the stench was nearly unbearable. There was a splash beneath the hooves of his horse and the boy could not bring himself to look, though he'd some suspicion what it was that would not be solid on a cold night. He looked back not even once more. He'd get to the end of it, darting in and out of every alley after that he could find. If he'd not be pursued then…then… He heard it behind him, the fresh beat of a horse's hooves just entering the alley. His thoughts had not proven to be folly.

He pushed his horse as hard as he could, the very thought of what was not afraid to follow him down that alley frightened him more than the thought of dying….was it the man? The Phantom?

He quickly reached the end of the alley, taking another rather abrupt left, leading his horse inside an abandoned building, closing the door behind him. He traveled as swiftly on foot as he could to the other end, opening wide the door, so that the horse would eventually make its way out of its own volition.

The boy inhaled once sharply before he found himself out into the snow. He'd travel on foot, concealing, as much as he knew how, his footprints. He'd find himself another horse, and return to satisfy what bloodlust had found him once more in Paris. For he was certain when the sun rose that there would be all manner of people looking for him, with no further chance of his exacting his revenge to come for months.

He quickly found himself on the roof of the building next. Crawling on his belly he moved from one rooftop to another until he found himself at the building's edge. He moved quickly down the sloping roof and ran across the street. So far as he knew he'd not been discovered. In just a few more blocks he'd be at the Opera House. He knew there would be horses there…and all he needed was one freshly rested.

Erik made his way down to the very end of the alley and back several times. He'd splashed around in every crevice he could find, and to no avail. There was no boy, no horse. He walked his horse down to the end looking out in the street, there were no hoof marks, no sign that there had been anyone there.

He looked once more to the left, there, around the corner, he saw the nose of a horse, it was moving slowly toward the corner. Erik lifted his gun, pulling his horse back just slightly into the shadow. He checked the chamber, it was ready, he pulled back, prepared to take shot at first opportunity, his exit from the City already planned, though none would pursue him once they found who'd been felled. He waited, and waited.

Slowly the horse moved out into the open. Erik gasped, there was no rider. His eyes grew wide, his head twisting this way and that, scanning the shadows…had he been tricked? Suddenly had the hunter become the hunted? Erik moved back into the shadows and waited.

When he saw and heard no movement, and watched as the horse wandered down the street without direction, Erik realized it had been abandoned. Slowly he made his way out of the alley, looking now to find the singular set of hoof prints in the snow leading up to the building just next. He dismounted, lashing his horse to the door, and crept inside. He looked at the door open on the other end. No doubt that is where the horse had exited. Erik's eyes were scanning the rafters, he saw nothing. He moved back outside, and to the edge of the building. There were no footprints in the snow. Where had the boy gone?

Erik went back in, surely the boy would have…then his eyes, looked more closely…had the boy gone out the door with the horse? He moved cautiously toward the other, gun on the ready in case the boy appeared. He'd made it to the end of the building only to find that the footsteps went to the next building. Erik saw the rather large pile of snow that lay on the ground, having recently been deposited there. "The roof?"

Erik made his way to the building, quickly climbing the trellis. Off in the distance, a few blocks away, he saw the boy, scaling yet another building. "Where was he going?" Erik's heart fluttered… "The Opera House!" Christine's dream had been specific. She'd seen the boy there….Erik dropped back down to the ground, running through the length of the building, mounting his horse with a flourish. He was once again out in the snow on the street next to LeMortem. He'd been down that area twice in one night. The only fear that people should have, Erik thought to himself, is fear of that which resides within them, for that is the most paralyzing of all.

Erik moved swiftly down the street. He'd have to be careful himself as he approached the Opera House as even he rode a horse that had been borrowed, however temporarily. He was but a block from the building when he saw a small rider burst past on the street. Erik looked down at the tired beast that he rode. He knew he'd no choice but to make it travel once more. Where the boy thought he would go now, was beyond him. He turned in his saddle, a bit disoriented….hadn't that been the direction they'd just come into the City?

Erik gasped…was he bold enough to return to Raoul's that very night? Erik could only assume that the boy, in his ignorance would have thought that to be his last maneuver. Erik shook his head. The boy would be moving in on the tail of Raoul's retreating forces, who no doubt would have made their way home by now. They'd not be thinking the boy would return. Erik had promised Nadir that he'd take care of the boy, no doubt Nadir comforted them into thinking they'd have nothing further to fear that night.

Erik's horse was slower than it had been, no doubt tiring from its pace. He'd no time to risk being caught trying to take another horse. A tired one was better than none at all. Erik made swift work of the block, taking a sharp right. The snow was firm, but Erik could tell the crust was thinning. It would not be an easy return, but he'd no choice. Erik could see the tails of the boys cloak off in the distance as he turned the corner. Perhaps it would take the boy a few minutes to realize he was once again being pursued, Erik could only hope that this would give him enough of an advantage to catch him before he'd gotten too far.

The boy thinking himself to be quite clever pushed the beast. The night hours were waning, and his window of opportunity would soon close. If it were not finished before the hints of sunrise came, he'd have to wait, how long he knew not.

Erik followed, an ever increasing distance growing between them. His heart was sinking. Had his promise put Nadir, Madame Giry, Meg in Peril? No, he couldn't second guess himself. He could only travel the distance as fast as he could, hoping he'd not be too late if he couldn't overtake him before.

The boy continued, the rested horse making the trip quite easily. It was but twenty-minutes time and he found himself a the edge of the woods where he'd been just hours before. Surely none would suspect him to have returned, and indeed, he'd not seen anyone out in the yard, though he was fairly certain there would at the very least be guards posted.

He ventured closer, back to the very edge of the building where he'd been once before. He saw no one in the yard, not even one. He could hear the hustle and bustle of the men in the stables, surely there was something going on in there.

His heart was pounding. He abandoned the horse, tying it up on a low stump. He'd move through the woods off to the left that lay off to the side, behind the fire. He was certain there would be no wolves there, nor need for guards. Slowly he made his way through the trees, carefully avoiding making so much as a sound. Though he saw no dogs in the yard, he knew they'd have keen hearing and barking would ensue if they heard anything.

Slowly, methodically he moved ever closer toward the house. It was seemingly all too easy. If he could but make it to the house and to the trellis, the victory would be assured. Raoul's room was right on the corner of the house, he knew. He'd but have to wait in the closet or behind a curtain until Raoul retired, and it would be quiet and effortless, and he'd be on his way. A perfect plan.

Erik's heart pounded as he saw the tree line come into view as he crested the last hill. He could no longer see the boy. He wasn't certain how best to proceed, but he'd want to do so quite out of view. If only he could find the boy before he'd find a way to the house. Erik rode down the hill, trying now to be as quiet as he could. He dismounted some hundred meters behind the carriage house, choosing to make the last leg of the journey on foot.

He found himself moving in the shadows of the overhang. Slowly he'd make his way to the corner and then to where he could view the house, and the yard, as well as the front of the carriage house. He turned the corner, his heart pounding when he saw the horse lashed to a tree stump. It was no doubt the one the boy had ridden in on, but there was no sight of him. The hunt, the instinct, before Erik had even felt it, the change had happened. Suddenly Erik no more he grasped the edges of his cloak, pulling it in, his gun poised, though he'd have preferred a sword.

He moved to the edge of the building, his heart rate slowing…it was method, it was precision, nothing more. His breathing began to shallow, his eyes keen and set as he came to the corner glancing, surveying the yard, the house. There was no one in the yard, no one on the veranda, no guard, no dogs….no boy. Where had he gone?

Erik glanced out of the corner of his eye at the woods and the fire. If it were he, that is what he'd have chosen. He squinted, focusing all that he could on the trees. The flames that danced not far in front of it provided light and distraction, making truly seeing difficult. But patience in this process was something he knew well. Hunting was not about being the quickest, it was about out-smarting what you hunted, you need be no faster. Then, he saw it. Slight movement, but movement. No sound…the boy was clever. But he had to be certain…a wolf could do the same. He strained, squinting his eyes, trying to focus through the trees.

In that split second, a second that would haunt Erik as long as any memory he'd ever had, the door to the house opened. It was Raoul. "I'll be just a moment," he heard him call over his shoulder, as he walked out. No doubt he'd be coming to check on the swift return of the contingent. Erik glanced back and forth. Raoul paused briefly, raising his hand to shield his eyes from the light of the fire. Erik looked over at the woods, the boy was emerging slowly. There were no guards, no dogs, no reason for anyone to suspect he'd be there….it would be even easier than he'd thought.

Erik glanced at Raoul…part of him hated Raoul for all he'd deprived him of, or tried to. He could not kill him, but if Crawlings did, he'd not be responsible. The boy would flee after satisfying his revenge; after all he was not threatening someone he loved. Raoul was a man who himself would have struck the fatal blow in the cemetery had Christine not begged for Erik to be spared. If the boy killed him, Raoul's blood would not be on his hands…..The next second was a blur. A single shot rang out. Erik snapped his head to see as Raoul hit the ground.

The carriage house doors opened all manner of men flying from it. Nadir ran toward the house. Raoul was laying on the ground, a bit of deja-vous from hours before. He leaned over him, throwing his cloak over him as men began to scurry in all directions. Erik had retreated, running to his horse, mounting it and driving it as hard as he could into the woods.

Erik's pulse was pounding so heavily in his temple he thought he'd lose consciousness before he'd find safe harbor. In but a few minutes time he was deep into the dark woods. He rode and rode until he came to a thicket. There was but one opening, seemingly made by the hands of man, not nature, for the thicket was tangled well on all other points. Erik ducked below, leading the horse through it. He looked around. The place was well groomed, almost oddly so, and off to his left, was that benches? He led the horse over to the dark mass that lay off to the side. It was a cave of sorts. This would provide the horse shelter temporarily until he could decide what to do. He lashed the horse to the tree, and he began to pace. Tears streaming down his face. He held his hands up shaking his fists toward the sky, his self-directed hatred erupting in him like convulsions. He flung his cloak to and fro and he paced and paced and paced.

He finally came to rest on one of the benches. He put his head down into his hands. He was crying, a pitiful, deep, gut wrenching cry, and then an anger boiled to the surface, and then once more pity. He wrestled with that which had just happened, the split second decision he'd made. In the quiet of the grotto, he uttered but one word… "Why…" then his shoulders began to wretch pitifully.

**Author's Note:**

**Dear Faithfuls**: My goodness, what a long chapter. I apologize, but most everyone was looking for some resolution, and hopefully this will put part of the story to rest.

First, do not worry, all will be as it should be! I am once again thankful that no one knows where I live lest I be hunted down and harpooned!

Second, I am going to try as Fanfic suggests, and respond to you using the reply link. So, check your e-mail. If you reviewed for the previous chapter, I'll try to be sure to include you in the response e-mail for the next! Please let me know your thoughts on how I've done this. If anyone feels that it should be done differently, please let me know. Perhaps Fanfic will occasionally allow me to put notes such as this one at the end of the chapter as long as I do not put the lengthy reviews here. Please let me know what you think! Bon Nuit!


	164. Contemplations

**164 Contemplations**

"What is it child?"

Christine rose, nearly dropping her cup of tea. Christine did not know. An icy shiver ran up her spine. Something was wrong, she knew it. She closed her eyes trying to purge it from her mind. "It is nothing Madame, a chill, nothing more."

The woman nodded, sighing as she put her cup in its saucer and sat it on the table. "It is likely that very long ride you took, the chill of the night air." She said as she walked passed Christine. "I best be getting back to it, then it shall be finished for him when he returns."

Christine nodded, as she followed the woman back to he work room. Perhaps she would retire to her room once more. If she'd have another dream, perhaps it would be best that she were alone.

XXXXX

Meg sat with the doctor in her room. "Pray do tell me, did you hear that? That shot?" Meg said, looking rather concerned at the doctor.

"Yes," he said, trying to conceal his nervousness. He'd thought it odd unless the men that had left an hour before had returned and brought with them more wolves, or had chased Crawlings back to the property. "No doubt it is more wolves, returned to find those missing from their pack. If you do not mind, I shall go to check."

"Here," he said handing her a cloth soaked in alcohol. "Hold this over the area that is bleeding. It should stop soon my dear, do not worry, it is perfectly normal. You did very well." He smiled at Meg as he laid a light reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I shall be but a moment my dear." The doctor rose to go from the room. "Would you like me to send Madeline up with a fresh pot of tea?" He said, glancing over his shoulder as he reached the door. He turned to look at Meg who was yawning, covering her lips as a polite young lady would.

"No, I rather think I'm finished for the night. I'll rest until you return." She smiled sweetly at the doctor. He smiled at her in return. No doubt the pain killers had taken hold. Meg would be most comfortable for several hours, which might very well be a blessing if the gun shot had been anything more than a warning.

XXXXX

Nadir was carefully helping to carry Raoul into the house. His eyes wide with wonder. Raoul lay as limp and lifeless in their arms as a dead man, though Nadir could see no evidence of blood nor entry wound. It was not until they were inside the house that Nadir heard Raoul speak. He was disoriented, but conscious.

"Raoul?" Nadir said, a glimmer of hope in his eye. Deep inside Nadir's heart ached. If the boy had returned where was Erik? Had he been felled somewhere in the countryside between Raoul's house and Paris? Nadir's heart began to race. The mere thought of it made him nearly blind with rage.

"Nadir?" He leaned down listening to Raoul speak. "I was not struck sir, though I do think I may have hit my head on something when I threw myself to the ground."

Nadir breathed a sigh of relief….Raoul had not been shot. But what of the shot that was heard? Nadir helped Raoul to the divan in the library. He was mumbling about seeing a black cape, and what he was certain was someone none had seen in months. Raoul had ordered everyone else from the room, save the doctor who was just arrived, and Nadir.

"I saw him, I'm most certain it was him." Sweat beaded heavily on Raoul's brow, he having released the tails of his cravat.

"Saw who Raoul?" Nadir said, going to the table to fetch Raoul a brandy.

"The black cloak….perhaps it was my imagination, but before I heard the gunshot, I would be wiling to wager my good name on it, I believe it was the…" Raoul paused, a moment of temporary hate and rage rising within him, "the Phantom". Raoul began to shake his head back and forth. It was utter folly, for it would not, could not simply be.

The doctor came along Raoul, leading him back to a chair. "You've struck the back of your head, there is a small gash, I can see the blood matting in your hair, sit let me tend to it."

Raoul could not protest, in truth he had felt something warm running the length of his neck and back, but it had not been his primary concern. He did feel a bit light headed, easily acquiescing to the doctor's commands.

Nadir walked to the window, pushing the curtain aside. There were guards posted on the veranda, in the yard, and still more men swirled around all sides of the carriage house, torches held above their heads. Some had not even dressed, but merely thrown cloak over night clothes. Every manner of male employee was out on the grounds searching. Nadir let the curtain drop again from his hand. Whatever had transpired out in that yard, if Raoul's eyes had not deceived him, surely Erik was there, and no doubt dealing swiftly with the boy even now. Nadir could do no more. Erik had told him he would contact him, and Nadir would wait. He turned round, returning to Raoul.

"Raoul, what of the shot then, did it come in your direction, narrowly missing you?"

Raoul's head was bent over, his chin nearly touching his chest as the doctor parted his hair, cleaning the wound. "In truth I do not know. I heard the click of the gun before I even heard the shot. Something had felt odd about the air, so I was keenly aware of all sounds…..it…I….if….."

"Shhh…be still now Raoul. This I'm afraid, will require a few stitches." He looked at Nadir. "Stay with him whilst I retrieve my kit. I have hope that Meg will have fallen asleep so that I might do so without her knowledge. If I shan't it might be a moment or two. Do see that he keeps his head bowed just as it is now." The doctor nodded at Nadir and then departed.

Nadir's thoughts raced. There had to be a way to persuade Raoul that he hadn't seen that which he believed he had. For if he believed, nay, feared the Phantom had returned, all manner of problems would rise. Not only for his sake, but for those in his household. No, he must convince Raoul he was quite mistaken. But what methods to employ to elicit such change of mind, he wasn't certain.

Walking over, he put his hand on Raoul's shoulder. "You have suffered a great deal Raoul, a great deal these last months. Perhaps more than a great many other men. It is no doubt that such things shall have a way of rearing their heads from time to time. You must have been mistaken. It was likely the boy himself, black cloaks are so very common sir."

Raoul was shaking his head. "I shan't think so, it was much taller, the stance, the repose, I am quite certain…"

The door burst open, the carriage master coming in quickly closing the door behind him. "It is good to see you well Vicomte. I wanted to deliver to you the good news, we've found the boy, and it seems you've a much better aim than you'd thought, for you delivered a killing blow." The man paused. "It is with deep gratitude that we honor you sir. Surely all of Paris will rejoice at your triumph in having sluiced this scourge of society from the city. Well done Vicomte, well done!"

Raoul was raising his hand in protest, shaking his head, "no, no, you do not understand…"

Nadir interrupted. "Do forgive the Vicomte, he is not yet himself. It seems that the force of the gun knocked him unexpectedly to the ground, causing him to gash his head. He perhaps cannot recall just now the events. I pray you give him time to recover. Perhaps in the morning he can address the men. For now do convey to them his deep appreciation."

The Carriage master looked at Raoul quite confused, but upon further inspection saw the blood rising from the back of his down-turned head. "My apologies Vicomte, sir. I shall do as you asked." He looked at Nadir, concern in his eyes, "do let the Vicomte know that his household will rest well in the knowledge that his courage allows them to rest safely from this lecherous boy."

Nadir nodded. "Be assured that I shall." The two nodded once more and the carriage master departed. Nadir sighed. Crawlings was dead. He closed his eyes, a sadness filled him for the death of the boy…but he was in truth relieved. He returned his attention to Raoul.

"Nadir, I did not even draw my weapon, I am quite certain that…"

Nadir was stroking his chin. "Perhaps the blow to your head has made it difficult to recall. You were the only one in the yard Raoul, the only one who could have defended your household as all others, including myself were in the carriage house, having just returned. I can attest to the fact that none of your staff were outside when the shot was heard. Since you were the only one there, and the boy is quite dead Raoul, it is assured that you must have done so, but the subsequent blow to your head has…"

Raoul was shaking his head, "no, I remember it quite clearly, I was shielding my eyes when I heard the click of the gun, and as I flung myself to the ground, I saw the cape fluttering off by the carriage house, and then I heard the shot…I shan't be able to recall what events transpired then."

Nadir was resting his hands on Raoul's shoulders, encouraging him to keep his head lowered as the doctor had instructed. Yes this turn of events might indeed be auspicious. His mind was torn. Nadir smiled, though his brow furrowed.

If Raoul had not drawn his weapon, and he had seen Erik, then Erik had made a choice.

Nadir knew that would likely not have been an easy one. Erik loathed Raoul, would just as well have seen him dead himself for all he had done trying to separate him from Christine. Why then had he not simply let the boy do what he'd come for? Surely Erik would have seen the opportunity in it. He then could have taken the boy down and none would have been the wiser. Surely wherever Erik now found himself, he was wrestling with that very thought.

Nadir breathed a sigh of relief. His hand resting on Raoul's shoulder, though his mind was on Erik. It was an odd set of events…and if his suspicions one day proved to be true…well…he could only imagine what it would mean.

Perhaps something in Erik had truly started to change. That which the old Erik would have done without thought, allowing Raoul to die at the hands of another, the new Erik simply could not. Was it because he'd finally forgiven Raoul? He thought not. Was it that even though it would keep them parted, he thought of Meg's happiness? Perhaps. Did he now think Raoul to be an appropriate suitor for Meg? He knew not. Whatever had prompted Erik to fell the boy, thereby protecting Raoul, it was a split second decision, one he shall have to reconcile in his own mind and heart. For surely it would have made life much less complicated if Raoul had died and all had returned home…yes, much less complicated. Sometimes, however unfortunate, these things happen during war. And Raoul and Erik…had most decidedly been at war…a war over the very woman Erik now held as his wife.

XXXXXXXX

Erik rubbed his hand across his now swollen eyes. He'd cried until the well of tears no longer had supply. The clouds had cleared, giving way to the most breathtaking star-filled night sky. His breath rising in frosty wisps rising to muddle with the crisp air. He stood, feeling weakened in spirit as well as body. His soul felt as bare and as vulnerable as it ever had in his life. A mix of emotions coursed through him, so tightly interwoven it was impossible to tell which commanded the lion's share of his mind. Part of him was angry. Angry he'd allowed his emotions to well to the point he could not control them. Part of him was relieved. Relieved that it was over. The boy had harmed no one more. Part of his mind was resolute; he'd kept his promise to Nadir. Part of his mind was in disbelief. Had he truly put Meg's happiness in front of his own selfish needs? Only Christine had ever been given the privilege of his altruism.

All others in his life had associations of mutual benefit. Nadir at first fit a need. That in time grew to much more, but in the beginning it had not been so. Madame Giry, and later Meg…they too had served a purpose. He'd a special place in his heart for Madame Giry, she having rescued him from a certain fate at the hands of the gypsies. And Meg, yes, he'd cared for her as an extension of his relationship with her mother. Only Christine had ever been given utterly selfless love.

Why now? When he could have had everything that suited his purposes delivered to him at the hand of another…why had he.. Erik shook his head. Clenching his jaw, wringing his hands, his pacing resuming.

There was something in Raoul's eyes. In that split second when he'd raised his weapon, his mind hesitating as he saw the boy draw his and aim it at Raoul, his heart had made a decision. There was something that Erik saw in Raoul…and in that split second…Erik gasped…he'd…. Erik shook his head, lowering and closing his eyes….he'd defended him! Erik's pace quickened, his breathing becoming labored as if he had a punctured lung. The very man who'd had him at the tip of his sword not months before. The man who'd attempted to set a trap with armed guards the night of Don Juan. The man who'd pursued him right into his lair….The man who'd proposed marriage to Christine….Erik twitched, a sickening shrill creeping up his spine. What it had been? He paced back and forth in front of the horse, pausing to look up into the heavens as if they would produce the answer. He sighed. Opening his eyes fully…exhaling…he knew what it had been. It was the look in Raoul's eye. It was a feeling, a gut instinct… He paced no more. Standing still in the chill of the night air, in the safety of this haven, he realized what he'd done. He'd made his decision. In that moment he'd sealed his fate. He and Christine would be parted from Madame Giry and Meg. And Nadir…that would be Nadir's choice.

Erik sighed. He'd have to put it out of his mind now. Perhaps he would one day be able to sort it out in his mind. Tonight, he was tired. Not having slept for seemingly days. He reclined on the bench, staring blankly into the sky. He'd no need to go back to be certain the boy was dead. Erik knew his own skills well enough to know he'd succeeded. No one had pursued him into the woods. No, it was finished…at least this part. Understanding it….accepting it…that would no doubt come with time.

Erik sat up, looking over at the horse. The beast had but a little more than an hour's rest, and Erik would now call upon it to carry him once more to Paris. He'd make his way back to Christine's arms. Back to what he was certain of. That he'd no greater love in this world than that woman, and all that she bore within her.

XXXXX

The young man was closing the door, "thank you for delivering this to me, good night."

He'd been sitting up for several hours, awaiting the arrival of the note she'd promised to deliver to him. He knew it would be sealed, but at least now, with it in hand, he could plan to make his travels in the morning.

He'd several other errands to attend to, including stopping at the undertaker to be certain that funds indeed had been provided for the woman's burial. He'd also stop at the mercantile with the list he'd been given from the kitchen for supplies they would need to make the candies the woman had requested to be made for Monsieur Courtland's wife. He tucked it neatly in the large center pocket of his leather satchel.

It would be a rather long day traveling back to the city, and beyond it to the man's house, but it would be a welcome change of pace. Yes, he'd had his duties, but the weather had prevented his carrying out several, relegating him to the quite reading in one's quarters that Lady C was so terribly fond of. Of course she'd an extensive library of classic literature, and philosophy, music, and every manner of science, but one could only read so much. Sometimes one must simply experience life. Books should remind oneself of what one saw in life, not life reminding them of something they'd once read in a book. That was no better than merely living life by proxy, and that was a most useless life.

XXXXXX

The doctor returned to Meg's room, peering in the door. He smiled. Her head was leaned back in the corner of the divan. Her hands folded neatly in her lap, the alcohol dampened cloth lay on the floor. In that room filled only with the light of the fire and the several tall kerosene lamps, a soft white blanket bunched behind her on either side, Meg looked like an angel caught unaware sleeping on her watch. She was a lovely creature, most suitable for Raoul he thought.

The doctor slipped in, retrieving his back, and moving back completely unnoticed. The poor dear needed her rest. He'd not wished to medicate her for her nerves, but since he'd been removing the stitches, the pill had served two purposes…one she was aware of, one she was not. If she'd been awake, and known of what happened on the floor below her, she would no doubt be a trembling with fright. She was safe, and appeared comfortable. He would leave her there until such time he'd finished with Raoul.

The doctor was closing the door to Meg's room, as he turned around he nearly screamed from fright. There was DeChagny, and Madame Giry. Both in their night garments.

"What on earth is going on?" Madame Giry ventured. Raoul's father looking on with great interest.

The doctor looked over his shoulder. He'd rather hoped to put all affairs in order before involving anyone else, he sighed, but it shan't be so. "Follow me." He said. They did so without question.

Once arrived on the lower floor, he took them into the parlor, lighting the lamp and sharing all that he knew. Madame Giry and DeChagny had stood several times each wanting to go to their respective children, but the doctor had convinced them otherwise.

"I have to return to Raoul. His head needs stitching, and though it is not a large wound, it will continue to bleed until it is sewn. He shall heal without incident, though he may have a sore skull, and a rather stiff neck. It would be best if he were allowed to rest until the morrow." He looked at DeChagny.

Then he turned to Madame Giry. "Meg no doubt will need encouragement to rise and go to bed. If you could assist her dear Madame, that would be best for her to rest as well. When she has reclined, a final smearing of the ointment on her cheek would be good, as I've removed the stitches tonight." Madame Giry looked at him, a hint of worry in her eye. "Do not worry, she is fine, all will heal well."

He stood, taking his bag into hand once more. "Now, if you will excuse me, I'll tend to Raoul." He neither waited for reply nor to be excused. He had work to do, and no amount of conversation would change the outcome of the evening.

DeChagny stared at the floor. The room was chilly, and he was still tired. He'd no want of tea nor brandy, a return to his comfortable bed was all he could want for now. He looked at Madame Giry, "there is no doubt in the truth of the doctor's words. We should retire for the evening. With present threats passed, and our children in capable hands, they've no use for us dear lady."

Madame Giry looked at DeChagny. She wondered to herself at what seemed to be the first genuine, unguarded words he'd ever spoken to her. No pomp, no pretense, but words shared as if they were already family. "Perhaps you're right sir."

The pair rose and climbed the stairs in silence. Once at their doors they nodded briefly and smiled. They had become something of familiar enough now, that oft times now, words were not necessary.

XXX

The doctor returned to Raoul. Nadir had followed his instruction, keeping Raoul's head down. He glanced at Nadir, wondering of the eagerness he'd seen in his eye. "What is it Nadir?" He said as he began to remove his tools, laying them out yet again on a white cloth. He'd barely had time to clean them before he'd put them away, but now he was glad to have done so.

Nadir glanced at the doctor and inhaled. For the ruse to work, he'd have to be convincing, something he knew a great deal about. He began, talking while the doctor worked, recanting all that had happened. How he'd lost the boy, how the guards had found and joined him, how they had returned, how Raoul went out onto the veranda and shot the boy.

The doctor's head jerked up. "You are quite certain, the boy returned, he is in fact at this very moment quite dead?" He looked Nadir in the eye.

"You may speak with the carriage master yourself if you'd like, though it will be the very same that he tells you. Raoul was the only one in the yard, it had to have been he that fired the killing strike. The bump to his head has no doubt made him forget even his own actions."

The doctor was shaking his head, "he seemed so clear Nadir. It does worry me for him. He's endured far too much trauma these passed months." He said, trying to whisper so that Raoul would not hear. He'd thought Raoul to have fallen asleep.

"No…I know it was he….but who then…who then fired the killing strike?" Raoul said rather mumbled as he lurched forward, the doctor nearly tumbling down after him.

"Let us recline him Nadir!" The doctor said, holding Raoul's shoulder and his thread of cat-gut above Raoul's head. He was mid-stitch when Raoul had begun to fall.

Nadir rushed to his aid, easing Raoul down by the back. "Doctor?"

"No doubt it is from the blood loss, the trauma, the relief." He said, now kneeling on the floor behind Raoul finishing his stitching. "It is best he rests now. I've some smelling salts in my bag if they should be needed." The doctor said, nodding toward his bag.

Nadir simply watched. He was nearly thankful that Raoul had lost consciousness for the time being. Something had to be done to convince Raoul otherwise. He thought quickly. He'd have to find Raoul's gun…making certain that one bullet was missing from its chamber.

Dear Faithfuls:

Oh how very strange this feels not to include notes to you here. I wanted to mention once more that I will respond via e-mail to those who submit reviews. I am deeply saddened that we can no longer include reviews with the chapters, for I think it is what has helped keep the Phamily feeling like a family. I wanted to let you know that I will continue to do a mass note, not for the sake of it being easier, but so that everyone can still feel connected to one another. However, if anyone would prefer that I send them only their response, or want their response to be private, I can certainly do that too. It is my hope that this new required process will not make others feel left out of the loop. If so…please let me know! Bon Nuit!


	165. Hesitations

Chapter 165 Hesitations 

Christine ambled into the room, letting the heavy velvet curtain tumble down out of her hand behind her. The room was warm, and though she was comfortable, there was something that tugged at her mind, though nothing she could put her finger on. She missed him…missed him dreadfully. She perched lightly on the edge of the divan, trying to be as quiet as she could manage, the tears began rolling down her cheeks. Her lashes grew heavy with droplets of saline that clung to her lashes, glistening in the illumination of the flickering flames.

She held her hand over her stomach, rubbing it unconsciously back and forth. Somehow she could sense that he was safe, but something tugged at her heart, like a sad child pulling at the apron strings of her mother. Staring up at the ceiling, her eyes roaming it from one detail to the next. It too was all part of this man's profoundly complicated past. She sighed. So very much she didn't know of his life; so very much she would likely never know, and she'd have to be satisfied with that which she did.

Her mind wandered to Erik's travels to the Opera Populaire. She could only imagine how very difficult it would be for him to simply be back inside of the Opera House. His life had changed so dramatically these last months. So many memories remained there; and yet so many new ones were being made every day. So many things had changed, altered forever the world that Erik now lived in. It was as if the very heavens and earth had shifted ever so slightly making room for him in them in his new persona. Christine had worried so for Nadir and Meg, she hadn't thought of the cost to Erik's mind, his soul…for surely it had to be difficult indeed, no matter how strong he was.

Standing once more she walked around the room, running her hand carefully along the silken scarves that covered the walls. Some were thick satin, others still were thinner, but provided no less color nor refinement to the surfaces they adorned. She paused, looking into the sculpted eyes of the cherub that sat on the pedestal in the corner just beyond the divan. She wondered how he'd procured such things, nay, for surely the woman had ordered them at his behest. But how had he known of such things? Surely the mind can craft what it will of its own volition, but even a creative mind needs some point of reference, some catalyst, something on which to expound. She'd never seen books of architecture, nor pictures of foreign lands in Madame Giry's collection. From what she herself knew, he'd come to live beneath the Opera House by way of rescue at the hand of Madame Giry who was a mere chorus girl herself. Somewhere along the line, Erik had learned of such things.

Christine smiled, walking farther still along the wall, looking at all the shades of purple, the hues of pink, the pale to midnight transitions of blue. "It must have taken him hour upon hour to arrange these." She said beneath her breath.

She came to rest in front of the very large mirror, staring at her reflection. Her hand stretched until it rested on the mirrored glass. The palm turned to touch the palm of the one in the reflection. It was as if she was connecting to her former self. She closed her eyes.

His voice danced inside her mind. She was a young innocent all over again. All those hours she sat in front of that mirror in the dressing room at the Opera Populaire, dreaming one day of being a Diva. She wondered how many hours he'd stood on the other side just watching her, for no other reason than listening to her as she'd talk to him, sometimes for hours. The corners of her lips twinged, a fleeting smile gracing it for but a few seconds. He'd been so very patient with her.

She inhaled, running her hands along her neck, sweeping up her chocolate brown tendrils into a large bundle, nearly so thick she could hardly contain it with the both of her hands. She slipped a ribbon around it, tying a loose bow. She was warm, very warm indeed. She opened her eyes, looking once more into the mirror, resting her hand on the pane yet again.

"Where are you my angel?" She said, her soul crying out its pitiful want in her simple words. In a response she would recant some time later as having be audible, she heard his powerful voice, and could nearly make out the haunting reflection from months passed… "Look at yourself in the mirror, I am there inside…"

Her breath caught in her chest. His music was raging once more in her mind. She'd remember that moment, that precise moment until her dying breath. With what wonder she'd beheld his flesh for the very first time. He had been even more magnificent, masculine, striking….than she could have ever imagined. Yes, though she'd noticed with nothing more than a casual glance that he'd worn a mask, it was the sheer embodiment, the deepest desires of her soul, the longings of her heart come true. He was a man of flesh and bone! The very fact that she could reach out and touch, embrace, love, that which she'd adored with such fervor, was nearly more than she could take in at that very moment. Oh how he'd looked at her with such pleading eyes. It was not until now that she'd understood it was because he was so afraid, so very afraid of being rejected. Oh how that caused her to love him, want him, need him all the more. The separation was too trying for her, yes, far too trying.

Christine lowered her hand from the mirror, returning to the divan. She reclined, pulling the covers over her once more. She could do nothing but wait. Yet she grew impatient. She could hear Erik's voice in her head, just as she had so many other times in the years she had known him… "rest child, I am with you." Her hand lingering over her abdomen…indeed, part of him truly was.

XXXXXX

The horse beneath him moved decidedly slower than what he'd have preferred, but he'd no intentions of punishing the beast by forcing the issue. No doubt he'd not been ridden in months and now to have made the trip back and forth from Paris so many times in one night, well, he'd done far better than what Erik had expected. The odd grotto that he'd found now behind him, he left the feelings of uncertainty, and the tears that he'd spilled on the earth there. This had been an incident, like so many others in his life, that he'd wished to forget. But unlike those times before, he could not ride away from what had happened, never to return. No, this set of circumstances would most certainly set in motion events that would alter not only him, but the lives of all those he loved. As he rode, he wondered about the grotto. There was little doubt that someone had treated it with loving hands, a sanctuary, however in the oddest place.

He'd let his thoughts wander as he rode back to the City. He'd so very much that he needed to tell Christine. He'd still not told her of the goings on in Chauesser the days before. The death of the woman, what had transpired with the citizens of Chauesser. He'd set in his mind to ask Christine to leave the City, though he knew she'd not understand why, he'd hope that she would acquiesce.

He wanted to take her back to Courtland Manor where he could properly tend to her without all the prying eyes, without all of the distractions that had taken him away from her time after time, though he'd vowed he'd be at her side. So much had fallen in between them, preventing him from doting on her the way his heart desired, nay, his soul demanded. She needed encouragement, assurance, that she would grow old, having raised their children. He needed to let her know that he loved her…loved her beyond all reason, and was committed to being at her side every step of the journey to motherhood.

He too wanted to relish the experience with her. He'd never dared think he would one day be a father….to be able to love, to teach, to nurture tender souls from their first breath. He'd already missed the first months of her pregnancy; he'd no desire to miss even one more day of it. For surely the miracle of life would not be lost on him. The very creation of a life was a wondrous mystery. One he intended to share with her each and every day until they held their children in their arms.

The horse shifted, nearly toppling Erik to the ground. The poor beast was no doubt tired, and hungry, though he obeyed his master without issue. Though he'd want nothing of it, his mind could not but wander back to the boy who was surely dead in the woods behind Raoul's house. Had he no mother that had loved him? Had vengeance been his only reason for living? How had a man so young become so corrupt, so embittered that he'd thought life provided him no other choice? Though Erik knew he'd done the only thing he could do, he felt guilt for having deprived the boy of his life. It was a great loss when one had to die simply because of their deeds, but oft there was little alternative, and this had been one of those times.

Erik sighed as he rose over the last hill. The lights of the City shown brightly, and he could see the bell tower in the distance. The sky was barely pink at the edges, and in just an hour's time, it would be fully light. He'd have to bring the horse with him to the seamstress shop, he'd not be able to return it now to the Opera House, lest he be discovered. No doubt the stables would be guarded after the horses were discovered missing, so the beast would likely be taken with him back to the winter house. He scowled, perhaps it would be best, the beast had only known servitude at the Opera House, and had spent years beneath the surface of the earth in his own service. It was only fitting he surmised, that now the horse have a pasture to graze in, fresh air to breath, and a life spent in a far better place. Erik's mind briefly wandering to the horse he was certain that would have delivered by now back at Courtland Manor. He was excited to see the young foal. If it were anything like its mother, he would be exceedingly pleased.

Erik rode down the hill. Though they were not visible, Erik knew that below him now the dirt paths would have given way to the cobble-stone streets at the edges of Paris. It wouldn't be long and he would be at Christine's side…oh how his heart leapt for joy at the thought of it. His brow furrowing once more. He'd much to tell her, and he'd have need to arrange a messenger to deliver a note to Nadir. The note would have to be clever. Something, some note that Nadir would know was from him, but would give Raoul no cause for concern. It would be done within the next few hours. Once it were dusk again, they'd be on their way back to the winter house. It was a fine plan.

XXXX

Madame Giry stood at her door, glancing down at Meg's. She remembered the doctor's words. Meg needed to recline, her cheek attended to. There was a sense of calm in her that the Crawlings boy was very likely far from there. She was proud of Raoul for having taken swift action to remedy the situation with the wolves. Soon Madame Giry's hand laid on the door to Meg's room. She'd not tell Meg of Raoul's injury, having fallen on the veranda. It would only worry her. Raoul could tell her on the morrow, when he was able.

Going in she found Meg, just as the doctor had told her. Sound asleep, propped up in the corner of the divan. She nearly hated to disturb her…she looked so peaceful, but she knew she must. She smiled, closing the door behind her.

XXXXX

Nadir left the doctor tending to the last of the treatment for Raoul. He'd want to be particularly certain that the stitches were tightly enough in place, and that the blood had started to clot before he'd be satisfied.

Quietly Nadir made his way down the short hall to the door leading out on the veranda. As far as he could see, there were none on the stoop, nor anyone out in the yard. He opened and closed the door behind him with nary a sound. His eyes scanned the buildings, the woods, everything that was within eye shot. His mind recalling signals from long passed, he stretched his arms high above his head as if stretching, leaning over to the left and then the right, and then the left once more, his finger pointed in that direction. If Erik were still out there, he would recognize Nadir's signal and meet him off in the darkness on the left side of the house. Nadir repeated the process three times, and then sighed. He'd no indication of Erik's presence, for the sound of a hooting owl was not heard, that would have been Erik's response….nay, Erik was no longer there.

Nadir's eyes began to search the veranda. He had great hope that he'd find Raoul's gun before any other, being able to check the chamber, removing the bullet if one were still there. He searched and searched, his heart beginning to sink, as his hopes of finding it dwindled. However would it be explained if his gun had been found, not even one bullet missing from the chamber? No, the story would be impossible to manage, for certainly that fact would be uncovered, especially if Raoul continued in his protestations.

Nadir dropped on his hands and knees and began to search all around the area where Raoul had been found. He'd been doing so for twenty minutes time or more, when his hand happened upon a lump in the snow. He breathed a sigh of relief, it was there. He quickly tucked it under his cloak, moving once more into the shadows. He lifted the gun into his hands making swift work of removing the bullet. From the outside Nadir appeared to be doing nothing more than standing outside taking in a breath of night air. The goings on beneath his cloak were a mystery to any on looker. It took Nadir less than a minute to do what he needed, and then he walked back over to where he'd found the gun. He lowered it to the ground, kicking a bit of snow over it just as he'd found it. He sighed, the sweat on his brow from the anxiousness he felt began to cool. Oh how he hoped he'd hear from Erik before the sun rose, though he doubted that he would.

Nadir made his way back to the door leading into the house. Just as he reached for the handle, the door opened. It was the doctor. Nadir's breath caught, hoping he'd not been observed. "Doctor?" he said with a bit of nervous hesitation.

"I've need for a bit of fresh air, as no doubt you've already done." The doctor smiled, walking out onto the veranda closing the door behind him. An obvious cue that he wished for Nadir to stay with him.

The doctor was scanning the yard. Blood spotted in various places, though not of man. He glanced down at his boots, as the frost from his exhalations rose from him. He tilted his head back staring up into the waning night sky.

"Nadir, I am afraid for Raoul."

Nadir cocked his head to the side, "whatever for? The present threat of the Crawlings boy is now passed. He's no need to leave here now, nor worry the women. He can rest now, recuperate as you'd like him to." Nadir said, looking over at the fire.

"This is true, the present threat is now passed. That is not my worry. You see Nadir, Raoul has a great sensitivity to death." The doctor's eyebrows now raising and lowering as he recalled events. "He has struggled with it since the time of his own mother's death. You see he shan't care for the thought of a human life being wasted, even for self preservation. Yes, I suppose if it were in defense of someone he loved, he'd deal much better with it, but in defense of himself?"

The doctor was shaking his head. Glancing over at Nadir. He'd a sense he could trust this man with a secret. "Nadir, what I am about to share with you, you must swear you shan't tell a single soul, nor let Raoul know that I've shared it with you, as he would be most uncomfortable." The doctor looked at Nadir for affirmation.

Nadir nodded, "do feel that your confidences will be well protected my friend."

The doctor smiled, and continued. "You see, Raoul is well trained in the art of fencing, and though he knows how to strike a killing blow, he feels most uncomfortable in the knowledge that his skill would allow him to deprive another of their life. He rather enjoys the activity, but for the sport of it, not the ability to use it as a weapon."

The doctor shifted his weight to his other leg. All the hunching had made him rather stiff. He stretched just slightly and then continued. "You see Nadir, Raoul confessed to me of an event that not another soul, save Christine, knew of. It is something that he to this very day tortures himself with. As he recanted it to me, there was an event, some many weeks before Christine went missing, where she had been taken by carriage to her father's grave in the dead of night. Raoul had sat guard outside of her room, in his own way offering protection for her innocence. He had feared that the Phantom would return wisking her away into the darkness."

Nadir sat listening intently. His eyes still scanning the grounds.

"Raoul told me of waking to find Christine absent from her bed. He'd gone in fervor to the window only to see Christine riding away in a carriage. Now, he'd not be certain what she'd venture out to do at that hour, but he'd a sense that it shan't be good, for a proper young lady, especially one betrothed to a Vicomte, would not find herself alone at that time of night. He thought that perhaps that she'd simply decided to runaway from the City."

He paused, stretching once more. "It wasn't until he arrived in the stable that he found the hansom on the ground just rising, having been struck unconscious. It was then that he learned that the carriage had been taken by someone else. He'd mounted his steed and pursued them all the way to the cemetery where the handsom stated that the young woman had requested to be taken. Once arrived, he found Christine nearly in the clutches of the Phantom. He intervened and a sword fight ensued. It was quite long from what Raoul told me, but in the end, he'd had the monster on the ground, his sword directly above the heart. He hesitated, not certain, even then, if he could do it."

Nadir's breath had caught in his throat. In all the years he'd known Erik, he'd never known him to lose even one dual, not one.

The doctor rubbed at his forehead. "Even in that distressed state, knowing what the stakes were, Raoul had hesitated. If it had not been for Christine's protestations, he is not entirely certain that he'd not have let him live anyway."

Nadir blinked, what had he said?

"You see Nadir, Raoul values the sanctity of life, in a way much similar to me, though I think I should be able to do what is necessary if I'd feel threatened. Raoul chose, in that moment, he chose to allow the Phantom to go free." The doctor rubbed at his chin. "He's battered himself for it a hundred times over, for he is certain if he'd taken the steps necessary, his life would be very much different now, and Christine would even now be preparing to be his wife."

Nadir swallowed hard. How could this have come to pass? Erik would not have handled this well. Had he allowed himself to fall so that Raoul would put him out of his misery….end his torture of wanting a woman he thought he would never possess? Nadir knew not. He looked at the doctor. "So why now do you feel compelled to share this with me sir?"

The doctor looked at Nadir. "That is why I believe Raoul Nadir. I don't think he could have shot the boy. If he could not fell the man, nay the very beast that threatened his every happiness with Christine, how could he kill a mere boy? I think it impossible sir."

Nadir felt a sweat growing under his cravat. He'd need everyone to be convinced that Raoul had done what it appeared he had. For any question, would make others wonder who had done so. No, there had to be some way to resolve this. Inside he breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps having removed the bullet would be proof enough. Yes, he would let someone else discover the gun. That evidence would remove doubt from even the most reticent mind.

"Doctor, I am quite certain that what you say is true. It might very well be that Raoul did so knowing that he and Meg would never be free, and he would not make the same mistake twice." Nadir hoped beyond hope to plant a seed of doubt in the doctor's mind.

The doctor sighed, "perhaps Nadir, perhaps." He looked out at the fire and the yard once more. "You best go in Nadir, do get some rest. I've need to go to the carriage house. If the boy is dead, then I shall have a bit of work to do." He nodded, not even looking back at Nadir as he stepped off the veranda and made his way to the carriage house.

Nadir watched the man walk across the yard. It would be a welcome rest. He would wait to hear from Erik. If he knew anything of the man, he knew he would keep his word. His thoughts quickly switching to Madame Giry as he made his way back into the house. He'd hope that she was not yet asleep. The hall that joined their two rooms would be of use to the pair this night, as he'd have much to share with her. If Erik was back in Paris, there was good reason, and he'd want to discuss it with her.

Author's Note:

Dear Faithfuls: I will be away next Monday, hence there will be no update that day! I promise to make Tuesday worth the wait! Thank you for your understanding!


	166. What of Death?

Chapter 166 What of Death? 

Nicole woke to find her mother sound asleep in the chair. She stretched just slightly, hoping beyond hope that she had fallen asleep and that the events of the past two days had been all part of an elaborate, ghastly, dream. She began blinking slowly, heavily, as one does when they are not yet fully awake. Shaking her head she began to mutter to herself. How could all of this come to pass? Nicole yawned, her jaw cracking just slightly from the motion.

"I may be of some use to you in that regard Nicole." A voice came to her from the darkened corner of the room. "Your jaw, it needs a bit of adjustment, hot packs perhaps."

Nicole startled, sitting straight up, pulling the covers around her. "You gave me a fright!" She exclaimed, "pray do tell do you have something to slow my racing heart?" She said looking at the doctor with a bit of seriousness to her tone and a hesitant glare in her eye.

"She sleeps peacefully Nicole, do not worry. She woke for a few brief moments and had a bit of soup, but then she fell asleep once more." He said glancing over at her mother. "She needs rest Nicole. After the funeral is over, she needs a few days rest to regain her strength."

Nicole's irritation, quickly forgotten, as they began to talk of her mother. "How many have you seen like her…like my mother?" She said, glancing at the doctor with innocent eyes.

"Many Nicole. One of my terms while I was in school required that I work with elders in a hospital not far from where I then studied. It was there that I encountered many who had been exposed to scarlet fever as children. Some had lived much longer than their siblings or friends, and thought they had beaten it. Sadly they were mistaken. True, some are stronger than others, and live a much fuller life, but some do not fair as well." He glanced from Nicole to her mother and back once more at Nicole.

"Your mother was indeed one of the fortunate ones. She was able to marry, bare a child, live to care for her own mother. Not many had even that much life to live, the fever had weakened them so. Your mother has done remarkably well Nicole. Perhaps it is her rather stubborn disposition." He said, staring at her with such an intensity that she'd no choice but to accept without question his reply.

Nicole's stomach had begun to growl, much to her chagrin. "I am dreadfully sorry, my manners…" she blushed profusely.

"No, no, do not apologize. It is indeed a good sign that you have hunger. Do rest my dear, I'll fetch you something."

Nicole paused, looking toward the window. "Do not trouble yourself, it shall be morning within a few hours time, I can have breakfast when…"

The doctor stood before her, his hand raised to hush her. "It is no trouble at all my dear. A hunger such as yours should not be dismissed so easily. No doubt as you wake the cares of the day will deprive you of even that natural reflex. It is likely that your mother will sleep several hours more at least. If you would allow me, I should be most happy to bring you something now. You are in need of sustenance Nicole."

Nicole looked down at her hands. She hadn't noticed that she'd been bunching the length of her nightdress in her hands as he spoke. Having someone wait on her was something she was wholly unaccustomed to. He'd such sincerity in his eyes, she was compelled to comply. "Thank you…thank you for all you've done on my family's behalf. I shan't know how to express my gratitude."

"No need Nicole. If you've had time to consider my offer, perhaps we shall be able to share in our needs, thus making displays of gratitude unnecessary." He smiled, rose, walking over to Nicole. "Do rest, I shall be but a few moments." Then he departed.

Nicole lay back down, tucking the folds of blankets beneath her head. She'd known then that she'd accept his offer, if for no other reason than it would benefit her mother. She'd nearly blurted it out, but seeming too eager at this juncture, would be a bit too forward. She'd want him to know she'd carefully considered it, and not accepted it out of sheer desperation…though that is just how she felt at that moment.

She glanced at her mother. Yes, she was a fighter. She could only hope now that she'd still have a good bit of that in her yet. If only she could manage to hang on one more summer. One more summer to take pleasure in the things she truly enjoyed. Nicole yawned. She'd slept, though she didn't feel rested. Perhaps this fatigue was one that only time and healing could lessen.

XXXXX

Christine thought herself to be dreaming again. She tried to open her eyes, but the lids were heavy and would not submit. There were voices, nay, she was mistaken, but she'd have nearly wagered on it. She strained to listen, but there was mere silence. It had been her hopeful imagination she was certain. She nestled once more down beneath the covers. She could feel that the warmth of the fire had begun to wane. Perhaps what she'd heard was the conversation between the young men in the room next, discussing who's turn it was to tend the fires. She smiled in her slumber. Erik would be most pleased with how they'd taken such fine care of her.

She'd begun to wander back to sleep once more when she felt a slight breeze from the movement of the curtain at the entrance of her room. No doubt it was Erphan, at the ready to tend the fire. She'd not want to startle him, but at the same time, she'd not want him to think her entirely unappreciative of his efforts. She'd not opened even one eye, but began to speak.

"Thank you for tending the fire, it is most comfortable now. Your efforts are met with my sincere gratitude." Christine smiled, she'd heard a sigh. She listened, but no customary return had been made.

As she listened, he rose and walked next to the divan where she rested. Immediately feeling a bit uncomfortable for being gazed upon in her sleep by a man other than her husband….she held her breath. Her voice nearly rose in her throat as she sensed him leaning over her. Her eyes flew open at the precise moment that his lips graced her cheek. She blinked rapidly several times before she sat straight up, nearly wanting to scream.

"Erik!" she gasped, flinging her arms about his neck, he pulling her up from beneath the covers into his arms. She buried her face in his neck as she began to cry. "Oh Erik…." She said as her warm tears fell on his flesh.

He scooped her up into his arms, sitting down on the divan, gently tilting her head back with his finger beneath her chin. He gazed down into her eyes before taking her lips into his tenderly. A staggered breath escaped her chest as she embraced him fully. Pulling herself as close to him as she could, a grip that told him, unequivocally, that she'd not be letting him out of her reach.

He smiled as he took his lips from hers only long enough to say, in a nearly breathless tone, "I've missed you my dear. I've so very much to tell you. But for now, I'd like nothing more than to hold you in my arms."

Christine's heart swelled in her chest until she was certain its beating were visible from the outside. Her questions could wait. She needed to embrace her husband…and if that meant that she'd hold him for hours without a word exchanged between them, then…she would, without question.

He lifted the covers on the divan, slipping Christine beneath them once more. He returned to the fire, putting yet another set of logs into the hearth. He rose, removing his smoking jacket.

Christine smiled. She had not been wrong. No doubt what she had heard was an interchange between Erik and the woman, for even now, the jacket he'd laid across the chair, was the one the woman had been working on that very night!

Erik turned to face Christine. He'd no expression to speak of on his face, though his brow was furrowed, and his lips pursed. He'd much to tell her, but not now. He'd not mention any of it until he'd warmed himself through, and could manage to start at the beginning. He'd start with the events in Chauesser, and end with…he gasped, with the events at Raoul's. He'd want her to be the first to know of such a thing, for no doubt word would inevitably find its way back to Chauesser, and he knew, better than anyone, that the truth could not be outrun.

Christine watched him with curious eyes, as he sat, removing each boot, placing them neatly on the side of the chair. She saw him shiver, no doubt he was chilled through and through. His hair was a bit tousled, his cheek a bit red, and his eyes held a tired that she'd seen only several times before. He was weary. Indeed, he needed to be wrapped in her arms, a soft touch upon his shoulder, and rest. He most decidedly needed rest. She smiled at him, lifting the covers in invitation.

A smile crossed Erik's face as he looked at her; walking toward her. There was no sweeter thing in this life than being welcomed home, into the loving arms of your wife; nothing at all that he'd encountered. She loved him, and every day, he'd become a little more grateful for her. As he slipped beneath the covers, trying to take her into his arms, she pushed at his shoulders, scowling at him. At first he did not understand until she quickly maneuvered his head to her chest, wrapping her arms around his neck and shoulder, slipping the covers over his back. A gentle touch guiding his cheek to her collar bone, as he came to rest in her arms.

Slowly she began to stroke his back with one hand, running the other warm palm along his neck and up into the thickness of his hair. He sighed, a relinquishing, relieved sigh, as he slipped his arms around her waist. Yes, this is what he needed now more than anything…to know that he was loved…and her gentle touch…it was like being in heaven already…in the arms of an angel.

XXXX

Madame Giry had just reclined, all hope of a visit from Nadir now faded with the ebbing evening, and approaching sunrise. It was not five in the morning, but the hints of pink on the horizon were swelling, and her eyelids grew heavy. She'd read as long as she could after seeing Meg off to bed. Thankfully the dear had remained asleep for the night, Madame Giry having stayed at her side for several hours lest she wake and find no one in the room.

She closed the cover on the book, laying it on the nightstand next to the bed, and turned down the lamp. She stared up at the ceiling. Resting seemed to be all she could manage to do, for true slumber seemed to elude her. The stress and worry for all whom she loved washed over her as certain as the waves that washed the beaches at Courtland manor.

She rolled over to her side, bunching the pillow up, resting her chin on her arm. Christine was now passed her third month of pregnancy. She hoped that all had continued to go well with her. She'd no doubt that Erik was even now doting on her, catering to her every need. Christine had not been cared for in that way for many years, and Erik had never had anyone to care for in that manner, so for the pair, they were a perfect match.

She smiled. No doubt their child would be attractive, no matter boy or girl. And loved, most definitely loved.

Madame Giry's mind wandered back to her friend, Gustav, Christine's father. She'd never had privilege of knowing her mother, but from all he'd told her of the woman, she had been elegant, refined, and had the sweetest disposition of anyone he'd ever known. Her death at Christine's birth had nearly undone him. Had it not been for the fact that the young baby reminded him so of his wife, and that she'd be needing a father, he'd felt as though she'd have been far better off with another family, and he in the ground next to his wife.

The child was quiet and undemanding. It wasn't long before she was cooing at her father's touch. He'd proclaimed that the dear little soul had saved him from throwing himself from the tallest bridge in Paris! Madame Giry sighed. That man had loved his daughter more than life itself…how very sad that he'd not been able to raise her, nor to see the wonderful woman she'd become!

Madame Giry shook her head. The irony of the life that Christine now led was a bit unnerving. Gustav had spoken repeatedly of an angel of music that watched over all things musical. He'd told Christine that when one loves music the way that he and she did, the angel of music took particular interest in them, and watched over them as well. The more the illness took him, the more he spoke of it, and the more Christine clung to the hope that the angel was real. It would have been far too cruel to tell the young child when her father died, that the angel was no more than fiction spun, a brilliant story told for her heart's sake.

She'd let Christine go on believing it to be true. When first she'd learned of Erik revealing himself to Christine, embracing the persona of angel, she was angered. How was she to ever set the girl straight with the truth when she now had heard him speak, called on him by name? Madame Giry had argued with Erik on that very subject for a long while. Alas, Madame Giry relented as it pleased the girl so…she'd begun sleeping through the night not long after, and generally thrived with Erik's nurturing. What they had both desperately needed was a friend. What in the end they had found, was the loves of their lives.

True when Erik was threatened with Raoul's arrival, he'd become more aggressive. His very lessons more demanding of Christine. It was as if he were afraid that he would lose her forever. And she had to admit, there was a time when she herself was not all that certain that Christine would not leave the Opera Populaire in favor of her childhood sweetheart and the promise of a much different life. She'd grown into a young woman, and though she loved the Phantom, she longed for flesh that she could touch, and could love her in return.

How Madame Giry's heart ached for them both. She could hardly have told Christine that the angel was the Phantom, and that the Phantom was man of flesh and blood! She'd have thought her to be quite mad!

She shook her head. She'd never be able to recall with accuracy the exact turn of events, or what had finally prompted Erik to reveal himself, but from that moment on, Madame Giry had known, that she would be his….and his forever. Now for their love to be expressed in the most ultimate way, with the birth of a child…she could think of no greater happiness for the two. For the two had become one in flesh…but they'd become one in spirit some years before…perhaps long before either of them had even known it.

Madame Giry rolled to her other side, turning her back on the light she'd revealed by peeking beneath the curtains that Madeline had drawn just the night before. Surely Raoul would be waking with quite a headache. Meg no doubt would be deeply concerned when she'd become aware of his injury, but perhaps if Raoul delivered the news to her himself, she'd not be as alarmed.

Surely now with the arrival of daylight, the threat of the wolves would pass, at least until night fell again. She sighed, closing her eyes once more.

She could only hope that Meg and Raoul would soon be able to settle into a bit more comfortable and usual engagement. Once Meg was able to travel, the trip back to Chauesser would do her good. To be reunited with Christine even if for but a few weeks would do both of them well. At some point it would be impossible for the young women to see one another, but for now, Meg would be thankful to visit, and learn of Christine's blessing.

It had been most strenuous for Madame Giry to keep Christine and Erik's confidence in that regard. She'd be much relieved once Meg knew of it. Perhaps even after Meg returned, they could arrange several more meetings before what would certainly be the end of Elizabeth and Stephan's lives. Once that time came to pass, it would be the end of the visits to Chauesser, and a fateful farewell for the families. A tear grew in her eye. She'd hope that it would be a long time from now, at least through the birth of their child.

Then they could keep in touch by mail, perhaps writing to one another as cousins would, though they'd surely never be able to lay eyes on one another again.

Her mind wandered to Nadir. She'd not felt such things for a man, not since her husband had passed on. He was everything she was not. He knew much of the world; she conversely knew all about Paris, but that is where her familiarity ended. He had enjoyed great wealth; she had raised her daughter with rather simple, though not with pauper's means. He no doubt was a learned, educated man; she knew only of what she'd read in books herself, for she'd had no formal instruction since finishing school. There were so many things that were so very different, but what they did share was a passion for protecting those that they loved.

She smiled. Though she was entirely certain that they would love each other from afar, perhaps for the remainder of their days, they would likely never be able to enjoy a relationship such as that of Meg and Raoul, nor Erik and Christine. She pressed her eyes closed. She was a blessed woman. Blessed to have a child, an employer, and the love of friends. She was blessed…but a small part of her wanted more…she'd been alone far too long.

She rubbed the back of her hand over her eyes before opening them one last time to glimpse at the pink hues of the approaching morning sky. No matter where life found them, they could all share in the joy that they could watch the sun rise, the sun set together, even if time and distance separated them, the heavens would keep them forever joined.

She startled, there was a gentle, quiet rap on the door. She sat up turning her ear. Had it been her imagination? She heard it again, this time quite distinctly. It was not at the door leading to the hallway, but the door leading to the space between her room and Nadir's. Her heart pounded in her chest, her sense of overwhelming tiredness fleeting. She rose, going to the door leaning against it. "Nadir?" She said hopefully.

Through the muffled thickness of the heavy wooden door came his voice, "yes my dear lady, it is I. May I come in, I've much to unburden myself of, and much to tell you my dear."

She closed her eyes, leaning her forehead against the door. Though she wanted to fight it, a sense of glee filled her at seeing him again, a smile crossing her lips as she reached for the handle of the door. "Yes, do come in." She said opening the door just slightly for him to enter.

Once inside he looked to be certain that they were alone. Finding no one else there he embraced her. "My dear lady, come, let us sit far from the door. I've much to share with you."

He let go of her, taking her by the hand, leading her over to the alcove by the window. "We must be as quiet as possible, lest anyone hear us. If we are happened upon, I will explain that I'd come to tell you of the goings on outside this night." He said looking at her in the dark of the room. He could barely make out her silhouette.

"Yes, yes." She replied. "Is everything alright my dear? Did Sara not meet with approval at the undertakers?" She recanting what the doctor had told her.

Nadir turned his head slightly, he'd nearly forgotten the ruse they'd invented to distract the women. "Yes, she is at the undertaker's as instructed. Madame, let me be rather direct. It is not proper perhaps to speak of it so candidly, but for the sake of brevity, lest we be discovered, I do not want to miss telling you."

She nodded. He took a deep breath and began in a whisper. "Erik has come to Raoul's. I do not yet know why he'd ventured here, as there was no time to explain."

Madame Giry's eyes grew wide, her hand rising to cover her gaping lips.

"The Crawlings boy was indeed about. This accounted for some of the gunshots you heard this very night."

Madame Giry scowled, "and what of the wolves, was that not true?" She said as she began to tremble.

"No, the wolves were indeed here, injuring a pair of Raoul's dogs, but in the end they were deterred."

Madame Giry felt herself becoming numb.

"The boy had in fact came here. Whether it was the doctor and I would led him here, or if he'd already been here, we do not know. What we do know is that he'd intended to kill Raoul, and had nearly succeeded when I screamed out of horror. Raoul hit the ground out of instinct, and though he'd been grazed, he'd not been injured."

Madame Giry was now standing. Her cheeks appearing as if she'd had a run in with a vampire, for every drop of color had faded from them. "So what of Erik, how did he present himself?"

Nadir inhaled. This part would be long and full of detail, after detail. Before he knew it, all that he knew had been shared, including Nadir's speculation that it had in fact been Erik who felled the boy.

Madame Giry had begun pacing back and forth in the room. She was nervously biting at the nail on her thumb, something she'd not done in years. Nadir watched patiently waiting for her to return to the chair across from him. Acceptance of such information simply could not be rushed.

Madame Giry finally came to rest in front of Nadir. "Is there anything more?"

Nadir looked down, if only he could tell her, but he could not. "The final thing to be done has already been done. I found Raoul's gun on the veranda, and removed one bullet from the chamber. When he regains his consciousness, I will do my best to help him remember what it was that happened." Nadir looked away, he could barely look at her for he knew it to be a blatant mistruth.

Madame Giry fidgeted with her robe. "You have no doubt considered what this will mean have you not?" She looked at Nadir with serious eyes. "The City of Paris will rejoice in its freedom from the clutches of that dreadful boy…Nadir….Raoul will be a hero."

Nadir now rose, he beginning to pace the floor. He'd not considered that byproduct, but yes, it was obvious that it would be so. "Would there be any harm in it? The story, would it bring harm to anyone if they believed it to be so?" He looked at her with pleading eyes. His only intention had been to protect Erik, he'd not thought of the consequences.

Madame Giry stared out the window. Her eyes seeming to be on fire as the pale pink gave way to burnt orange of the impending sun. "There is no harm in the story Nadir, with the exception that it is not the truth." Her words falling like an axe upon his mind.

"What would you have me to do Madame Giry? If not this story then what of the explanation of the boy's death? There were no others about, no others in the yard. If Raoul continues with his thoughts of having seen the Phantom, then fear and upheaval will once again be upon the city! For surely even now….it is as the people of the City believe…the Phantom is dead."

His words rung an alarmingly pure truth…for indeed…the Phantom was dead….never to haunt the City as he had again. In his place was a man. A complicated, beautiful, talented, strong, brilliant man, who would soon be a father in a city far from this one. Erik would be the Phantom no more…it was best that he was laid to rest…just as they City believed he had been.

Nadir and Madame Giry stood looking at each other. The plainness of his words resonating in their minds. The Phantom, the creature of darkness, the one who had been their friend…he was gone…and though what took it's place was a far better thing…they mourned the loss of that force. The force that had forever changed the face of Paris…nay…history itself. As they stood before the window, taking in the rising of the sun, Nadir reached out for Madame Giry's hand. She grasped onto it as if it were a life line. Though all was not as they would want it to be between them, in that moment, they shared the very essence of life.

**Author's Notes**:

My dear, dear, Faithfuls: It is with much apology that I must tell you that there will be no individual responses to your wonderful reviews tonight. I barely had time today to post this chapter which I penned during my absence. I promise that Wednesday's edition will continue with the proper response to your reviews…and a hearty welcome to several new members to our Phamily! Bon Nuit!


	167. What Secrets Doctors Hold

Chapter 167 What Secrets Doctors Hold 

The doctor was returning from the carriage house. As he walked he marveled at the deep pink and orange of the sun that was bursting to life on the eastern horizon. As he walked toward the house, he lowered his head, his breath rising from him in frosty plumes of sorrow. When the previous day had begun, the boy had likely been enjoying some sort of breakfast, perhaps pondering his future. This morning was quite different; this morning found him passed from this world, thus bringing to a rather abrupt end, the Crawlings family, and the Crawlings legacy.

The crunch of the reatreating snow beneath his boots as he traveled, did little to distract him from his thoughts. The doctor could not bring himself to rejoice in the boy's passing, as certainly all of Paris would be once word of his death found its way to the City. No, he could not celebrate it at all, for he'd been a mere boy. He'd not yet had opportunity to change his ways, to repent of his wrongs, to choose a different path. The words of the priest floated through his mind "no man can choose the day, the hour, nor the manner of his death." He sighed, but surely there was something unjust about a child being formed to be nothing but a criminal. The fault had resided with his father and his father alone. The boy had been nothing more than the result of years of teaching, on a most crooked path. He shook his head, there was something pitifully sad about that fate.

As he reached the veranda, he paused, stretching and taking in a full lung of what seemed to be warming Spring-like air. Perhaps this would be a new day. One full of hope, one full of joy, one full of peace. One thing was certain, there would be a great many who would rest easier in the knowledge that the Crawlings family could no longer wager their treachery. Word would no doubt travel like wildfire once the boy was delivered to Paris.

He was met at the door by Madeline, who herself looked to have managed little if any sleep the previous evening. Without a word, she handed him a cup of thick black coffee, and a biscuit filled with apricot preserves. She knew he'd no time for sitting down, so she'd given him the warm breakfast on a plate that he could take with him to his room.

"Thank you Madeline, you are most thoughtful." It had been supper the night before since he'd eaten, and though that would not have been unusual, the fact that he'd not yet slept, made his body crave that which it did not have need for if it had been in slumber.

He quietly stood on the veranda looking out at the lawn as he consumed his biscuit, supping from his hot coffee. The yard showed only traces of the carnage that had gone on there. A large ashen pile of wood lay off the right of the house still smoldering slightly, not entirely that far from the line of trees that made its way into the depths of the woods. There were faint hints of blood in the center of the yard, no doubt where the dogs and wolves had their encounter. The paw prints had been muddled by the trampling of many pairs of boots over the snow from the subsequent events.

He glanced once more off at the woods. That is where the boy had been when Raoul had shot him dead. The doctor grimaced. Raoul would have a difficult time adjusting to the blood on his hands. No, he'd not deal with it well, he simply knew it. As he put the remaining crumbs of the biscuit in between his lips he glanced at the carriage house. He'd done his job, though not a perfect one. He was no undertaker, but understood the rudimentary skills necessary to do what he'd needed, but little more. He'd tended to one of the stable hands who'd attempted to watch the process, and fainted. No doubt this was the first they'd seen such a thing. Raoul's house had suffered from no trauma, and certainly nothing of this nature. He supped at his coffee once more, and then passed through the door into the house.

Outside the sun's first rays began piercing at every dark corner where shadow had rested. Yes, today would be a new day. Full of possibility, and full of hope…perhaps even more than anyone knew.

XXXXX

The doctor found his way back from the kitchen at the Inn, knocking lightly on the door before he entered. The room was still dark, though the first shafts of morning light grew outside. He'd not touch the curtains, he wanted both ladies to rest. He sat the tray of soup and bread that he'd brought on the small table next to the divan where Nicole now lay. He smiled, he could tell by her shallow breathing that she'd been asleep minutes only. Though he felt somewhat guilty for having to wake her, he knew she'd feel much better if she'd something in her stomach.

He gently reached out laying his hand on her shoulder, carefully shaking it a bit. Nicole easily woke, blinking at him through bleary eyes. "I've brought you some soup my dear. Do sit up and have a few bites won't you?"

Nicole was far more compliant, and her defensiveness much declined when she first woke. It had often been those moments that her mother would speak to her of things that she knew Nicole held in, for in those moments she was the most vulnerable that she would be all of her waking hours. She slid up, resting her back against the tall back of the divan, pulling the covers up under her arms. She was chilled though the room was warm.

The doctor smiled once more sitting the tray on her lap, quickly realizing that would be most awkward for her. She smiled, lifting the bowl and the spoon from the saucer smiling at him.

"I can hold it sir. Something I am quite accustomed to. I'm afraid that the work that I do does not always allow for the most proper time nor use of manners at meal time." She paused, "but I do have them." He smiled at her as she took her first spoonful of soup. She blew on it, the steam rising from the spoon she closed her eyes taking in the wonderful aroma of the basil heavy chicken stock filled with all manner of winter vegetable.

As she opened her eyes, she saw the doctor staring at her. Not the sort of stare one gives a stranger, but a more familiar stare, one that is exchanged among friends or lovers. Though it startled her, it was not uncomfortable…all she could do was return his gaze with a smile. "Thank you," Nicole said as she took her first bit of soup. It was wonderful. Not merely the flavor of balanced medley, but the fact that it had been brought to her out of compassion by someone who would now most likely be, a most trusted friend.

XXXXX

Andre was already dressing in his quarters for his journey. He'd chosen something refined, yet warm, most suitable for travel. He glanced over at the ivory envelope that sat on the table beneath his cloak. Lady C had been rather specific in her instructions. The envelope had to be delivered to the man's house that very day so that he might have adequate time to prepare for her arrival.

He finished, sipping from his first cup of morning coffee, he took the list of ingredients that the cooks had prepared for him. He tucked that inside his breast pocket, he'd not want to lose it lest he have to guess at the contents of it, and he was certainly no epicurean! It would indeed be a busy day.

Slipping on his cloak, and riding gloves he departed his room. In his haste, the envelope left laying on the table.

In but a few moments he found himself downstairs, checking one last time with those who'd risen to prepare him for his travels. Truly, the City of Chauesser was not a far journey, but there was an excitement in the air. There always was this time of year, with the festival not far off, but there was something decidedly different about this day. It seemed to be brimming with possibility.

XXXXXXXX

The doctor had thought long and hard about returning to Courtland Manor to visit Elizabeth. He'd stayed with his sister two days more than he'd thought he would when he first arrived, but the weather had altered his plans. He'd so enjoyed spending the additional hours coddling his new niece and nephew, and spending time with his sister and her husband. He thought his brother-in-law to be quite amiable, but this unexpectedly extended visit had proven him to be even more so than he'd first estimated. He looked on with great happiness as the man helped his sister with every aspect of caring for their young children, even shooing her off to bed in the mid-afternoon for a nap whilst he tended to the children and took care of the dishes from the afternoon meal. True he had little else he could do while the snow was piled still up to the bottoms of the window sills, but he could as well have found it time to relax himself. He'd come to respect how much the man truly loved and respected his sister. Yes, he was a man ahead of his times no doubt, and the doctor was entirely thankful that his sister had married such a fine man.

He rather hoped that he too would one day find a woman to embrace as his own, though he was no longer a lad, and truly, he'd been so devoted to his work and his studies, he'd had little time to do much else. He found his love, his commitment, and his interest lay so heavily in those that he cared for, he wasn't certain if he could ever marry lest his wife feel that his work was his mistress. Perhaps one day he would find someone that he could love the way this man loved his sister, or the way Stephan loved Elizabeth. If ever he could choose as examples of pure love, he'd have to look no further than the pairs he had privilege to know.

He had already packed his bag and had it sitting by the door when his sister woke. She no doubt smelled the aroma from the first pot of coffee of the morning.

"Dear brother, why is that you rise so early, it is yet dark outside?" she said coming through the door from her room into the parlor, rubbing at her eyes, tugging on the edges of her robe, wrapping it tightly around her waist drawing it in with the sash.

"I did not mean to wake you. I've asked the carriage driver to have the sleigh readied. It has been far too long since I've visited with several of my patients. Now that the weather is more reasonable, all threat of more snow now gone, I really should be getting back to my keeps." He said as he sat rocking in the chair next to the fire. "I've so enjoyed our visit sister, and the chance to hold those beautiful children of yours."

His sister blushed, walking over to the hearth sitting on the stone ledge that lay in front of it in a near half-moon shape. "We have enjoyed having you. I must say Thomas has rather enjoyed the company of another man these last days. I'm quite afraid he's heard nothing more than discussions of babies and the like for some weeks now. It was quite refreshing for him to have someone to discuss a great many other things with!"

She laughed. "Politics, the burgeoning Bohemian revolution, the scandals of the various theaters of question in Paris…the strange disappearances of people in that City, they are much more interesting fodder for the company of gentlemen than talk of feeding and diapering babies!" She laughed again as she glanced into the fire. Her husband was indeed a thoughtful man, and would never have said as much, but he had enjoyed the distraction.

The doctor smiled. "Thomas has proven to be quite an able companion my dear sister. I'd always thought him to be noble, but I've seen his compassion in his dealings with you. And when he holds his daughter…well…let us say that no greater love hath no man!"

He smiled at her. Both knew it were true. Her husband was a bit older than she, and all had worried that the difference in age would not bode well for their happiness. But, thankfully, all had been proven wrong, for no finer match could have been made for either of them. Content and happy. Those were the two words most oft used by others to describe the couple. Now with a family quite firmly established with the birth of their twins, there was little doubt that they would be a very wonderful family.

"Your work is so very important to you brother dear. I only fear that this passion of caring for the lives of others, does not in the end deprive you of having a life of your own." She said, gently resting her hand on his shoulder as she walked passed him on her way to the kettle that lay on the stove.

He glanced down, that very thing had crossed his mind on more than one occasion. "My dear sister, do not worry. I shall know the woman when I meet her. I can only hope she is as fine a match for me as you have been for Thomas."

His sister nodded at him as she carried a cup for the both of them over to where he sat. She herself sitting down by the hearth once more. True, it wasn't a proper place to sit, but it was warm, and she'd no children watching for her example just yet, so she could take these last few liberties.

"Do you go to visit the young woman that is with child?" She said sipping from her cup.

He turned to look at her. "Yes, she and her husband. I should like very much to stop there after I visit with a few of the elders along the way. With any fortune at all, I shall be there before night falls. His household is rather accommodating, and providing they've room, they are most likely to ask me to join them for dinner and a nights rest. I've much to tend to when I make my way back home. No doubt the house will need much tending when I return." He scratched at his chin. He could only hope that it had faired well during the storm. It was small and adequate, though how sturdy the roof had been under the weight of the snow was something that remained to be seen.

XXXXXXX

As gentle tickling shafts of golden sun flickered through the split in the curtains, it danced off the glistening hair on the head that was nestled far down into the satin covered pillow on which it lay. She'd wandered off into a deep, fitful sleep. Normally she'd have risen by this hour, for she'd not been able to sleep more than a half-dozen hours at one time since she was a young woman. That night had been most unusual with the unexpected news of Victoria's death, and the discovery of a man of noble intentions. She'd been in and out of slumber too many times to count. It hadn't been until the last hour that she'd finally found her way off into the deep sleep.

She'd spent so much of the time recollecting all of the encounters that she and Victoria had over the years since her father's confession and subsequent death. It had been that very thing that had sent her back to Chauesser. She'd had many a nightmare about wandering through the empty streets of the city looking…looking for that which she'd lost, nay that had been taken from her. Those dreams had been frequent, and were now quite predictable.

What dream possessed her now, was one she'd not had in a great number of years…and it was the one she feared most, that caused her the greatest agony. In her sleep she began to roll from one side to the other, holding onto her mid-section as if seized in the grip of a great pain. Oh how she'd writhed this way and that. Her nightgown now soaking with sweat, her brow furrowed her lips pursed but parted slightly as her staggered breath began rushing in and out between her lips. She'd nearly doubled herself over, grasping at her stomach as she did.

She could hear the words, "push now, push!" She groaned in her sleep as she clutched at the sides of her bed, pulling the cover out from the top of the feather ticking. "Once more, push!" Her body went limp, she was gasping. She began to cry. She'd heard a faint cry, some hushed words, and everyone had left the room.

In her dream she shuddered, her body going cold. The damp cloths covered in water and blood lay beneath her trembling body. She not been tended to, but abandoned in the dark of the barely lit room. It seemed like hours before the small midwife who'd been with the doctor came in carrying a basin of warm water and began to care for her. She'd applied a damp cloth to her forehead, and delicately laid another over her cheeks.

Not a word was exchanged between the women, as the woman spoke only German, and she'd not had a word of it in her education. Soon she'd assisted her in sitting up, sliding a fresh nightgown over her, leading her to the chair that sat by the window. She'd been far to weak to stand, yet nothing she did seemed to alleviate the great pains she'd had.

It wasn't long and the woman had changed the coverings on the bed, and had helped her recline once more. She handed her a glass of cool water, and patted her shoulder and was gone.

She once again found herself alone in the room. She'd known her father's intentions, it was going to live with a relative in a far off land, she'd start a new life, and forget all that had happened there. She'd only wanted to see it…just once… She watched the door to the room with bated breath. Surely they'd come to tell her what it was, let her hold it just once.

Her breath caught in her throat as the door slowly creaked open, a rather ashen faced doctor entering the room. He himself was not long out of school no doubt, looking to be not many years older than she. He walked over to her, pulling her hand into his. "I am sorry my dear young miss…."

The woman sat up in her bed gasping. She looked around the room, thrashing about as if she'd wandered into a hornet's nest. She'd not had that hideous dream in years! She'd wanted to believe so badly all those long years, that it just had not been so. Though the harder she tried to rid herself of the memory, it was there, as clear as fine cut crystal, showing the many facets of a life she might have had…one she'd been deprived of. She rolled herself into a ball in the middle of her bed, drawing her legs up against her chest. 

Perhaps it had been roused by Victoria's death. A final chapter of the book of mystery coming to a close. She'd been in no more a position to control the events that had played out these last days leading to the woman's death, than she'd had been so very many years ago. Fate was a cruel thing she thought. For one sin…one simple sin…had derprived her of her father's love and respect, the possibility of marriage because of her stubbornness, and the one…the small tender life that had begun…she began to weep bitterly…more so than she had in years.

Dear Faithfuls: Be sure to look in your e-mails. If you've reviewed the last two chapters, there should be a response for you today! Bon Nuit!


	168. Beautiful Souls

Chapter 168 Beautiful Souls

Christine listened carefully, at the mere sound of Erik's breath, rushing in and out, methodically to his lungs. No doubt one day it would be something she would take for granted, as one often does the simple things in life, but this night, nay, this budding morning, she reveled in it. Erik lay resting in her arms. She couldn't recall just when he'd fallen off to sleep, but she assumed it had not been more than an hour before.

Erik had stoked the fire well, for it burned brightly even still. Erphan had peeked his head in the room just minutes before. Departing with a smile, and a look of utter relief on his face when he saw that Stephan had arrived safely from whatever it was that had brought them to the City in the middle of the night.

Christine's one hand remained in motion, caressing Erik's shoulder and neck. Her other, was tightly intertwined with his that now lay over her mid-section. She had so much she wanted to know. Not of his past…for that she had promised not to ask of again, lest necessity bring it to the fore-front. No…she wanted to know of the past several days. She smiled as he sighed, nestling his cheek against the warmth of her flesh. He was utterly relaxed, and utterly at peace.

Erik had barely slept, and when he had, it had been disjointed and not for any long stretch in order to bring a body its full recovery. Christine rested easy in the knowledge that Nadir and Meg were safe, for Erik would not have returned in such a manner if something had happened to either of them. No, he'd either found nothing, or he had been able to successfully intervene before anything had taken place. It had been the look of sadness she'd seen in him when his eyes had first met hers, and the mumblings he'd made as he fell off to sleep that concerned her.

Though they'd not exchanged a word since he'd reclined, other than undying devotion and thanks to be once more in one another's company, she sensed he'd much to tell her. Her childish heart and mind wanted to wake him. Ask him what he'd found, if all was well. Of how he'd thought to bring her the seamstress house, of what had happened in Chauesser, who's blood had been on his clothing. She wanted to know if Nadir had delivered Sara to her final disposition, and if he had, where it might be so they could pay a proper visit before they left Paris. She wanted to take him to the room with the paintings, ask him about each one…express her heart-felt respect and gratitude to a man who had patiently loved her all those years. But more than all of those things, she wanted to gaze into his eyes….those deep mesmerizing eyes, and have him tell her he'd leave her side no more. That they would return to the winter house, go about decorating the nursery, picking out names, having the proper dinners with their staff as he'd suggested.

She wanted things to return to a calmer, more settled pace while they finished the months of waiting until she delivered their children. Though she longed for a promise, she'd made up her mind, she'd not make him promise not to leave her side. It would come to no good for them, as he surely would not be able to make such a promise and keep it. In making and then breaking such a promise, it somehow diminished his word…no, she'd not think that to be fair at all. He'd never left her side other than when he'd felt she were in no danger, and only then when he'd felt there was no other choice. Making him promise would only cause his soul injury. She knew that he loved her, and would treat her with as much attention as he could manage. He was a man of honor, and his actions were always purposeful. She had to remind herself that she was not the only person in his life that he cared for…though truly…he often made her feel as if she were.

Erik inhaled, exhaling sharply. Smacking his maw, his tongue venturing out, wetting his lips. Christine smiled; no doubt he was thirsty. She'd no knowledge of when last he'd eaten or drunk anything. He'd seen to taking a proper amount of sustenance for the lot of them when they left the winter house, but to her knowledge he'd not partaken of any of it, and he'd certainly not taken any with him when he'd left the sleigh hours before.

Christine leaned forward, placing a delicate kiss on Erik's temple. Slowly she slipped out from beneath him, putting him to rest on the pillows and bundled blankets. She smiled as she watched him nestle down into the comfort of it. She pulled the covers over his shoulder, running her hand once more through his hair. He'd had a very difficult evening there was no doubt of it. His locks were matted and tousled this way and that. For Erick, perfection in grooming was tantamount to respect for the others who were in one's company. If he'd returned to her in this way, she smiled, it was because he was finally beginning to understand. Understand and embrace her unconditional love for him.

She retrieved her robe, slipping into it, venturing to the doorway, silently passing through. She'd go to retrieve a pot of tea, and perhaps a few morsels he could nibble on when he'd woken. She only hoped it would not be hours, for she wasn't certain she could suffer to wait that long.

Christine made her way down the dark, chilly passage to the woman's rather humble, yet functional kitchen. As she passed the woman's workroom, she glanced in. The woman was humming softly. Fabric of every sort tossed about on the table. Some were shades of the finest royal blue, emerald green, and a rich scarlet silk so thin that Christine could see the glow of the fire through it as it hung over the rack the woman had put on the table. No doubt the woman had other work to do. After all that is how she'd cared for herself all these years, to put shelter around her, and food in her stomach. Christine smiled, there was no need to disturb the woman. She'd made it abundantly clear that she wished for Christine to feel at home there, and to treat her house as her own, using whatever she'd have need for.

Christine walked down to the kitchen, lifting the simmering kettle from the stove, pouring a small pot full. She'd put the tea ball into it when she returned to the room where Erik now lay resting. Retrieving a plate from the cupboard, she took a few savories from the basket that Erphan had brought in from the sleigh. Misty had been rather diligent in packing all those things that she knew to be Elizabeth and Stephan's favorites. Christine smiled as she filled the plate. Balancing it all on the tray, she was once again in motion…she would return to Erik.

XXXXX

Erik had rolled several times. His deep exhaustion making real sleep rather elusive. He rolled to his back, feeling about with his hands before he'd even opened his eyes. Christine was not there. His mind was so very tired, his thoughts as thick as morning grog. He'd almost forgotten where he was. As he opened his eyes slowly blinking he gasped. For a split second he'd had a flash. That room… years ago, after he'd finished it, he'd nearly ripped every bit of fabric from the walls, wanting to start over again.

That room, nay, a tent just like it, brought back bitter memories of an evil creature who'd wanted so desperately to posses him, that she'd gone so far as to have his food tainted with a drug causing him to enter a forced sleep. He'd woken only to find himself in a room just like this one. Truly it was beautiful, fit with all the luxury a sultana would require. There had been no need for fire in that tent, for in that place even the nights were warm.

He shook his head, a pain searing through it. She'd had it in her mind to deprive him of his honor. It had been one of the final times he'd rejected her before she'd subjected both he and Nadir to the unthinkable. Relegating them to carrying out her every evil whim. He wondered what had caused a soul to be so vile, so evil, to think of such things? The woman had lived a life of privilege, never having to have want of anything she could not possess. Surely she'd not seen any hardship, no treachery to cause her to be such a wretched soul. Perhaps it was as Nadir had surmised; she was the embodiment of evil, possessed by something so heinous that she herself could not fight it. For they both believed that souls were not born evil, nay, they'd all been created to be good.

He shook his head yet again. He'd not thought of it in a long while. He'd tried to purge all thoughts of that woman from his mind, though she'd seemingly found a way to haunt his mind even still. With what irony he paused on his thoughts. What had tried to desperately possess him, and what he now possessed in his beloved Christine, were two polarized ends of a spectrum. The Sultana was the epitome of evil….Christine was the personification of goodness. Perhaps the heavens did indeed smile upon him at last.

He closed his eyes…would he ever be rid of the beast…or the fear that one day she would find him…depriving him of everything he held dear? Suddenly he shuttered, sitting straight up. He'd hit upon it! The thing that had haunted him so…he was afraid! He'd embraced the fear she'd tried to plant within his mind so long before. For indeed he was afraid, but not of the life he'd now face. Rather the threat his past could be to his future…for if ever that beast did appear….no…he simply would not allow himself to think of it. He was far from Persia, and certainly, after all this time, even that despicable creature would have relinquished her search.

His head turned, his ears deeply keen to the sound of water sloshing in a pot, the gentle sound of soft fabric brushing against the marble floor of the hall outside. He smiled, no doubt Christine was returning to him. He let out a deep, even, sigh. He could barely wait to gaze upon this woman, to have her flesh touch his. This room, this set of shaded fabrics and painted cherubs would behold a different creature entirely. Perhaps, one-by-one, she could replace memory after memory until he'd no room in his mind for anything but the good that she embodied, and the life he would live for the remainder of his days.

The gentle footsteps came to a halt outside the curtain. A small ivory hand, containing a ring he knew well, ventured in, pushing the velvet curtain aside. She came in glancing at nothing more than the tray whose contents she was intensely focused on. She was smiling, a slight hint of flush on her cheeks. She carried the tray over to the table, submersing the tea ball into the water, the vapors of steam rising in the air. She arranged the tray carefully before she turned round to glance at Erik. Her face suddenly changing from the small smile of pleasure it had just contained, to a full smile…one which greeted properly, her husband who was now quite awake, and now quite aware of her stirrings.

Christine went to Erik, accepting his invitation of open arms. She slid in next to him as he sat up on the divan, taking her into the fullness of his arms, guiding her head to his chest with the hand he'd run up the length of her back and now rested behind her neck. He leaned his head down, kissing her temple. "Good Morning my darling Christine." She squeezed his middle, nestling her head into his chest.

"It gladdens my heart to see you stir Erik. I'd no want to wake you, but in truth I could scarcely wait to look into your eyes." She said as she turned her head upward taking in the beauty of the very thing she described.

He gazed into her eyes with such affection that it nearly undid her. "And how I too longed to see your bright eyes Christine."

She smiled, leaning forward to place a tender kiss along his jaw. The sensation made Erik shudder. "Erik?" Christine said, a bit of concern in her voice. "Is all well?"

Erik smiled at her, running one hand along her cheek and beneath her chin, gently guiding her lips to his. "It is now my dear….. it is now." He took her lips fully into his, kissing her tenderly. He scooped her up into his arms, resting her in his lap. Their lips parted as he ran his arms around her, his head buried in the recesses of her neck beneath her abundant curls; his hands wandering her back, massaging her shoulders and neck. She was stiff and rigid, no doubt from the worry. Under the warmth of his strong hands, his reassuring touch, her tense repose slowly began to diminish. "All is well Christine," he whispered into her ear.

She smiled. She knew his words meant that Meg was safe, Nadir was safe. "That is wonderful to learn Erik," she whispered in return. "Do tell me of it.." she hesitated, "if you are ready."

Erik smiled as he turned her head once more so that he might gaze into her eyes. "My darling Christine, I've so very much to tell you, so much indeed." His eyes glancing toward the door and then the wall that joined their room to the next. "I've much to tell you, but I fear it may have to wait until we've returned home, for I know not of who might hear our conversation."

Christine felt a small twinge inside. She was so very eager to learn of every detail, but once again, Erik's wisdom shone through. "I see," she said, a hint of displeasure in her tone.

Erik sensed her disappointment in her words. "Do not worry my dear, I've full intention to speak of everything to you, I shan't leave out even one detail." She smiled at him. He leaned over kissing her cheek. "I've much to tell you of Chauesser as well my dear. I do wish for you to know everything as I do even now." Erik hoping his words of assurance would alleviate, in part, Christine's impatience. He knew she'd no want to wait, indeed her impatience, and the way in which she tended to pout, was a bit endearing to him. It was part of the childish quality he'd come to love about her. She was always obedient, but her eyes, in fact the very way she held her shoulders, betrayed her true feelings.

Christine was turning herself to look at him fully so as to convey her understanding to him, when they heard whistling coming down the hall. A small pair of shuffling but even footsteps quite audible. They smiled at one another. It was the woman, and it was quite obvious she wanted her approach to be noticed.

The whistling paused outside of the room, a small voice calling out "Monsieur Courtland?"

Erik cocked his head, looking at Christine.

"We had to tell her our sir-name, we assumed she would have known it." She looked at Erik, hoping it did not meet with his disapproval. Courtland had been the name tossed about by many in his employ, she could only hope that it had been safe to use here.

"I see," Erik said, running his finger along Christine's jaw. She sighed in relief, he'd not minded. "Do come in dear woman, I'd like to introduce you to my wife!"

The curtain moved to one side as she came in, bearing a small bundle in her arms. "Why yes, I've already made the acquaintance of this lovely creature sir!" She said smiling as she stepped a few meters into the room.

Erik smiled at Christine who was blushing heavily. "Dear woman she is the one that…"

"Yes, I know." She said, interrupting him, as she walked over to the chair in the corner, unfolding what she'd carried into the room, then turning to face the pair. "She is the faceless girl in the portraits, the one you spoke of so fondly, hour after hour when you painted."

Erik blushed himself. That had not quite been what he'd expected the woman to say. "She is the one that I spoke of yes." He managed as he looked a bit embarrassedly toward the ground.

"She is as lovely as I'd imagined her to be sir, a lovely heart as well as a lovely face." Erik glanced at Christine. No doubt the pair of women had spent some time in conversation.

"Yes, we'd made a bit of conversation over the painting in the parlor. My dear, I never knew you to be such a prolific artist!" Christine interjected, a bit reservedly. Of course she knew the words were a bit hollow, as she'd seen much of his work at Courtland Manor, and the winter house as well, she simply did not know what else to say.

The woman turned toward them. "I'm afraid that I've need to retrieve a few supplies so that I might finish some," she paused, "some commissioned work. I hope you do not mind, but the two young men you've brought with you are even now having a bit of breakfast, and have agreed to take me out to the several shops that I've need to visit. I'm afraid the delivery services have not yet ventured out of doors since the storm." The woman's face turned toward Erik, and though her eyes gazed in his direction, they were without use, yet hauntingly focused.

Erik glanced at Christine. He knew in part it was his requests of this woman that caused her to go out, and he felt a bit guilty for it. Surely no messengers had come for her daily correspondence, so she'd have need to venture out to find one. Indeed, it would provide him with time, to at least in part, have conversation with Christine in utter privacy.

"It is very well that you suggest it. I think you will find that the pair are quite capable. In fact, please feel free to extend your travels for whatever you are in need of dear lady. It might be some time before deliveries of all sorts return to normal. You've no doubt need for many things having been several days without."

She smiled, in truth she could use a bit of assistance, as she'd no fresh milk, nor eggs, nor meat. Her other supplies had also waned. "If you do not mind.." she began.

"Dear lady, I do not mind, in fact I insist. It is the very least I can do for you in return for extending such courtesy to my wife and carriage men."

The woman smiled, grateful for the favored return. "We shall depart once the young men have finished their breakfast. I've no idea what it is they've been eating, but there is something in that basket that they've been feasting on. I offered them some pickled eggs and biscuits, but they declined. I suppose their palate is a bit different than mine!"

The three of them laughed. Christine could only imagine Erphan's face if he'd seen the boiled eggs in a jar of brine. She herself had only seen them once before, and that had been at the Opera House. Madame Giry on occasion had several jars in her room that seemed to disappear overnight, though she doubted the woman ever ate them. She glanced at Erik, perhaps they had been for him! He smiled knowingly at her.

"Yes, the young men do have different tastes than ours dear lady!" He replied with a laugh. "I'm quite certain that they are busily eating the lox and creamed cheese!"

He took Christine's hand, leading her over to the woman. "Now, it is a bit awkward, doing so quite after the fact, but I'd like to introduce the two of you." He took the woman's hand, placing Christine's hand in it. "This my dear lady, is my wife, Elizabeth." He turned to Christine, a bit of hesitant humility in his eyes, "this Elizabeth, is a fine woman whose acquaintance I'd made some years ago. She is a most kind and generous soul, and has tolerated my presence on a number of occasions." He said smiling at the woman, a touch of humor in his tone. The two woman shaking one another's hands in gentle acceptance of friendship.

"Indeed, he was often quite a handful my dear," the woman began. "He can be quite serious. It took him a good long while before he'd begun to appreciate my chiding. I'd almost given up hope that he'd any sense of humor at all." The comment making th trio smile widely. "It was not until one day when I'd made comment about the woman who'd just left. She was a rather snobbish bore who'd not understood why she simply could not have three dresses made in one day. I'd made some disparaging reference when I'd come into the very room we stand in now. He was busily painting the ceiling as I recall. It wasn't until the woman herself stormed into the room that I realized she'd not actually left before I'd started my ramblings! Needless to say she never returned, but our dear man and I had quite a laugh over what a huff the woman was in when she departed!"

Erik smiled at Christine. Indeed he recalled the incident. It had been one of the many moments that he'd embraced the woman's humanity. He smiled at her with fondness. She'd taught him a great many things, not the least of which, was that it was all very human to laugh at one's self from time to time. Not every mistake one made was of the most grave nature, and in fact some were in truth quite humorous.

"Now, if you do not mind, I shall be on my way. It might take a long while to retrieve all that is needed, several hours at least." She'd made a point to mention it. Inside she smiled to herself hoping that he'd take the advice she'd given him. The pair needed time alone, and there would be the inevitable conversation and explanation of the paintings in the parlor. Yes, her home would provide the haven the pair required. She nodded, and was gone.

Erik smiled at Christine, putting his hand on her shoulder, rubbing the length of her neck. She closed her eyes. The warmth of his hand penetrated the layers of her skin, soothing far more than her chill. She turned to him, slipping her arms around his waist. And he….he embraced her.

"Now what say you we have a cup of that tea that you've brewed?" He said, sliding his hand down into hers, leading her once more to the divan, tucking her in. She'd tried to protest, be he wouldn't hear of it. He'd insisted that she was doing the most important job, he was a mere bystander. He could do nothing less than provide every comfort that he thought she might require. As he poured the tea, the aroma rose to tickle at his senses, "is that elderberry?"

She nodded. "She said it had been your favorite when you'd visited." Erik smiled, indeed it was. "She said that during the summer months, you drank it by the liter, and that she'd brew it the night before, chilling it in the cellar for you to consume the next day."

Erik was nodding. He wondered how much else the woman had shared with Christine. They'd only been together a few hours. Surely she shan't have had time to tell her every story, every detail of the times he'd spent there!

Erik returned to Christine's side, two cups and saucers in hand. He sat down next to her, pulling a bit of the blanket over his legs as he leaned back into the divan.

Christine sat in marvel of his magnificence. Surely to some he might have seemed an unkempt mess, his hair in disarray, his white shirt loosed and hanging casually open down nearly to his navel. But to her, he was utterly perfect. He was entirely handsome and entrancing when he was at his groomed perfection, no doubt the envy of a great many men. But, when he was as he was now, a bit muddled and relaxed, she found him the most desirable. She watched as he took his first sip of tea. The steam swirling around his cheeks as he closed his eyes, embracing the fragrance and flavors of the brew. He smiled. It had not been since he was last there that he'd had a cup of elderberry. He never drank it other than that place. Yes, he could have had anything he desired whilst under the Opera House, but that, he'd reserved only to be consumed there, and there alone. It was in part, what made it all the more special.

Christine sat staring at him. No doubt he was warm, a hint of sweat on his chest glistened in the light cast from the fire as his muscles moved on his upper torso when he turned to set the cup down on the table. She smiled. No doubt he was enduring the extra warmth for her sake.

"Are you too warm my love?" Christine said smiling at him.

Erik listened as a pair of footsteps approached the room. He glanced at Christine to make certain she was properly covered. "Do enter young man."

It was Erphan. "Monsieur, Madame," he said as he entered the room. "We are ready to depart. Is there anything that you might require in the City that I might procure for you since we are here?"

Erik really hadn't thought of it, but he supposed it did make sense. How often had any of them been in Paris! "You are a thoughtful young man Erphan, that is most wise of you. We do have the rather large stow for luggage beneath the riding compartment. I suppose it does make sense to seize this opportunity." He rubbed his chin, turning to Christine. "My dear, is there anything you desire from Paris?"

Christine's heart leapt for joy, the though of having anything she wanted in all of the City, an offer such as this she'd never had before. She smiled, her first thought, and the one she could not get beyond, was the thought of seeing Meg and Madame Giry, if but for a few brief moments.

"What is it my love, what is it that you desire? Just name it, and it shall be yours." Erik said, running his hand beneath her jaw, tilting her down-turned head up to look into her eyes.

Erphan was looking away. "Perhaps I shall retrieve some parchment to make a list." He departed quickly, giving them a moment's privacy.

Erik leaned forward, kissing Christine's temple. "My love, I have funds for whatever it is you wish for…provided it is something we can carry home with us this afternoon!" He smiled at her, pushing the dark tendrils away from her face.

She swallowed hard. He'd asked her for whatever her heart desired, she'd be brave and tell him the truth. Her lips began to quiver as she looked up into his eyes. She stared into them for a few brief seconds, a lingering hope that he'd not find the request far too great.

"Christine?" Erik said, sliding his hand behind her back, gently embracing her. "Whatever is it that you are so hesitant to ask for? The world is yours my dear, whatever it is you ask of me." He leaned her back just slightly looking into her eyes.

"Erik….." she paused, "I'd like to see Meg, if only for a moment…I miss her terribly."

Erik sat back. Of all the things he thought she might ask for, chocolates, magazines, books, perfumes, she'd asked for something he'd not given thought to. He'd just penned a note to Nadir to be delivered by messenger, telling him of Christine's dream, and his intentions to move his household back to Courtland Manor once back in Chauesser. He'd asked for Nadir to arrange to bring Meg there in the coming weeks when he felt there was opportunity to do so without raising suspicion, and when the weather for traveling was more agreeable.

Christine immediately flushed with embarrassment. She knew the request was a great one for no doubt the arrangements would not be easy. She'd thought to beg his forgiveness for having been so bold, but she could find it in her to do nothing more than stare at the ground, fidgeting with the covers.

Erik's mind raced. How could this be done? Where… He sat silently for a moment and then rose.

Christine looked at him with a bit of concern in her eyes as he left the room without so much as a backward glance. She waited for what seemed to be a half-hour's time before she heard footsteps coming back down the hall.

Erik pushed open the curtain, coming in and pulling it closed behind him. He stood, facing the curtain as he listed to the door to the house firmly close. Then he turned to face her. Tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Erik?" Christine said, a bit of humble apology in her tone.

"Do not worry my dear, it shall be done for you." Erik said smiling at her as his tears fell glistening down his cheeks.

Christine nearly leapt from the divan into his arms. "I am sorry, I know that the request was great, but you asked for what I wanted, and all I that consumed my mind was…"

Erik embraced her. "Shhh….. it is alright my dear. My tears are not shed out of anger nor frustration." He leaned back looking into her eyes. "You are a beautiful spirit my love. Given all the world to choose from…" Erik swallowed trying to keep his emotions in, "all of Paris to choose from…and you chose friendship over all things material…" He ran his fingers along her jaw, smiling at her with such loving adoration. "She is right….you have the most tender, thoughtful soul of any I've ever known. I…I am a most fortunate man." With that Erik pulled Christine into a warm and loving embrace.

She began to cry. Not tears of sorrow, nay, tears of joy. She was loved, and she loved in return. She said nearly breathlessly, "thank you Erik, thank you….I love you" as she fell into his waiting, open arms.

Dear Faithfuls: There is a strong possibility that I may be away again on Friday. I won't know until after I've already posted this chapter. If you do not see an update on Friday, my sincere apology. I hope the cliffies are not far too great too bear! Bon Nuit!


	169. The Dawn of a New Day

Chapter 169 The Dawn of a New Day 

Pyotr and Sebastian had grown quite weary of staying in their room. They'd taken every meal there since they'd stayed at the Inn; the dining room being far too public for their tastes. They'd written every bit of correspondence they could. They devised in their minds a way to retrieve all manner of goods from the house on the day of the celebration in Chauesser, for surely, in light of the most recent events, the family would be most decidedly attending. It would take them but several hours to remove all the things they'd stowed in the carriage house.

Pyotr was grateful that the last shipment had been refused before the family had arrived. They'd set out for the other farm as soon as the weather cleared in order to do so. Sitting in that room, for all those hours on end, would have driven even the most sensible man quite mad. Now all that was left to be done was to wait. Wait until the 10th of next month, yes the tenth day of April.

"What is it about that day, why that day, out of all others during the year, and so many more during favorable weather, why do they celebrate that day?" Pyotr said to Sebastian. "No battles were won on that day, no great victories, no death of a king, nor birth of any royalty. What is it that causes that day to be one honored by this inconsequential little village?"

"Now Pyotr, we do not have to understand why, we need only to know of the celebration, and the hours to which the family will be gone and nothing more. It will be of little use to us to know any more. It is not our celebration of whatever events it represents. It is a celebration for us to know that the day exists, and it is quite opportune for our purposes. What they celebrate and why is of little matter to us."

Pyotr was nodding, "of course, of course, but this infernal waiting, and wondering. I tell you if this is not the last season we spend in this village, I shall have want to pull each and every hair from its home in my scalp!"

Sebastian laughed, "come now my friend, it is not all that bad. We've a warm bed to sleep in, good food to eat, plenty of ale at our disposal. Waiting could be far worse."

Pyotr was nodding as he walked to the window once more looking out. "I just wish it were fully spring and we were on our way back to Paris. Yes, I'd be much happier if we were on our way there even now." He let the curtain drop from his hand. The landscape hadn't changed. Not even one footstep outside the Inn to disturb the snow crust that had been formed there.

XXXXXXX

Courtland Manor was coming to life. The volume of snow had been rapidly diminishing with the warming air. One could nearly sit and watch hour by hour as the snow descended further and further toward the earth that lay beneath it. The warm salt breezes had already started to waft over the drifts on the beaches, the sand visible in places. Yes, there was still a chill hovering, but there was a warm breeze making its way inland, and soon it would be spring once more.

The man had gone to the stable, leading the foal out into the small area that he'd cleared for the purpose. The mother closely behind watching with keen eyes as the man carefully fitted the foal with bit and bridle, and a thick horse blanket thrown over its back. It was all done for the horse's comfort. If it knew from the first that it existed, that the man were in charge, the struggle with saddle and then rider later on would be much easier.

The woman watched from the house smiling. Surely Monsieur Courtland would be pleased. She'd tidied the house to every corner. With no one about to make messes of such things, it was very easy indeed to care for. She'd spent quite a little time reading as of late, and even more on her needlework. There was truly not much more to do…until the family came home once more.

Her thoughts wandered to Sara. She felt a certain degree of guilt for never having properly befriended the woman. She could do little about it now. She hoped that the woman had found her final disposition wherever she found herself now.

XXXXX

Misty had bundled up. The morning had arrived, it was time to go into Chauesser to do as had been requested of her by Monsieur Courtland. She'd see to the funds at the undertaker and travel no further.

She'd selected one, rather young, rather impertinent young man from the carriage house. He could be trusted, she knew, for he'd been a faithful friend since first she'd come to the service of Monsieur Courtland, but he was an incorrigible chatter box. There wouldn't be even a moments peace on the trip neither to nor from Chauesser. Yes, he would be good company, but once in the City, she would have to no doubt remind him repeatedly that they were there for one purpose and one only, a visit did not mean he would be at his leisure to talk to everyone he encountered. Yes, she'd have need to remind him repeatedly.

They'd not have the benefit of a sleigh for their travels, nay, they would in fact be traveling as light as they could, on the smallest horses. Over the drifts and through the gullies. Truly it wasn't a long journey, though they'd both dressed as if it would take hours for they'd really had no idea how many hours they'd spend on their venture.

It wasn't long and they were on their way. The sun had now risen into the awakening sky. Today would be a much warmer day than they'd had in over a week, and Misty was glad to be out of doors to take in the enjoyment of it rather than huddled up in the house consumed by mundane housework.

There had been the inevitable questions, and protestations from the remaining staff in the household, but Misty had been quite strong, and quite insistent that she was on orders from their employer, and the lot of them best not cause quarrel over it or they'd have Monsieur Courtland to deal with upon his return. It was not her normal countenance to treat others with such seemingly ill regard, but she'd felt most compelled as she feared they would try to dissuade them.

In but a few minutes they'd put Courtland Manor behind them and nothing but the open fields and trees lay before them. Chauesser would be a site for sore eyes as far as Misty was concerned, even if she'd have to avoid the vast majority of it. Just being there, being on assignment for the master of her household, was exhilarating.

"Come, come. We've no time to waste here young man." She glanced back at the boy who trailed just slightly behind her.

He looked at her briefly shaking his head. She was no more than a year his senior, yet she behaved as if she were the lady of the house…he shook his head again. He'd say nothing of it. He was simply thankful for the opportunity to do something, anything rather than sort through the contents of the carriage house as Erphan had instructed before they'd departed the night previous. There was nothing of any great interest as far as he was concerned. He'd only found box upon box of old books, and ugly paintings, and a few small trunks that were locked. He'd had half a mind to use them all for a fire when they returned, for surely they were nothing more than junk and trinkets.

XXXXX

The sleigh headed off from the house on the hill, the City of Chauesser its destination. Lady C still slumbered, all of her staff knowingly keeping the house as quiet as they could, had carefully shut all doors between her suite and the kitchens so as to provide as much barrier to the bustling goings on in those rooms. The pantry had been pulled apart, all sorts of candy molds were being cleaned and readied. If they were going to go to the work of making the candies for the gift she'd intended to bestow on the hero's wife, then they'd thought themselves to be quite wise in making a rather large batch, in preparation for the celebration that was now a mere few weeks away.

They rather looked forward to it each year. Most days and months found the house quiet and reflective, save the hours each day that their mistress played her piano. That was something they enjoyed with great pleasure.

She was a beautiful pianist, truly beautiful. It was essentially the only time they thought the woman to be happy…when she laid her hands on those ivory keys. Her other hours were spent replying to letters sent to her from the citizen's of Chauesser, or reading from her vast collection of books. What was pitiful in their minds, were the hours each day she spent just blankly staring out the large window in the parlor at the City below. It was as if she was waiting for someone to come home….a someone who never existed at all. They'd spoken of it only in the deepest privacy of their quarters, far from any chance their words might be overheard. What would make such a lovely woman refuse every would-be suitor? What painful thing had she endured that led to such a choice of self-imposed solitude and singularity? They knew not….nor did they have any hope that they ever would.

They'd wait on the return of Andre. He would carry with him the essential ingredients, the pure vanilla from Spain, the Dutch cocoa powders, the caned sugar in large quantities, the finest hazelnuts, and shelled pistachios. The butter was already being busily made in the creamery outside. The cheeses had been aging in the caves beneath the house for nearly two months now. The meats were curing in the smokehouse. Indeed, there was much in way of preparation for this celebration.

They'd sent off to Paris not a week before the storm to all the finest purveyors for the items they'd be needing. The next week, with all good fortune, carriage after carriage would arrive with all the remaining items that simply could not be found in a city the size of Chauesser. The mercantile had been given strict instructions, and had dispatched the couriers to Paris on their behalf. Yes, the house would be bustling for several weeks before it would once again settle into the long wait of summer, until the holidays of the next winter arrived once more providing opportunity and cause for celebration.

The head cook turned abruptly from her recipe book as the door at the rear entrance opened and closed quickly. She looked on as Andre came in, moving rather in earnest up the stairs without so much as a greeting. A hush fell on the staff. Whatever had caused him to return? They all rushed over to the window. The sleigh was outside, quite ready and waiting. They all turned as he came back down the stairs, tipping his hat to them as he moved through the kitchen and out the door once more. They watched as he mounted the sleigh and set forth to the City again.

Andre was tucking the envelope neatly beneath his cloak into his breast pocket. How very imprudent of him, and what cause for delay. The most important part of his journey into the City and he'd left the envelope behind. He only hoped that his timing would not be such that he'd find himself at the mercantile at an inopportune time.

He glanced at his pocket watch He'd hoped to be there before it had opened, taking delivery without notice of the general public. He shook his head. No, now he would have to make his way to the undertaker first….for surely the man would be taking in an early lunch as was his fashion. He'd want to be well ahead of that for he'd need to make certain all of Lady C's instructions were followed. Yes, the man had seen to her final expenses, true, but she'd no doubt that he would permit her to bury the woman in the cemetery in the plot that had been reserved for her some time before. She'd want to see to it being done well in advance of the celebration, for she'd not want that event to cloud the festivities.

Yes, he'd rather hoped he'd be able to slip in and out of the undertaker's without delay. He'd a long journey ahead of him to the man's house and then once more to the mercantile. He pulled his hat down round his ears. Though the sleigh provided shelter, there was still a chill.

Perhaps he'd have time for one cup of coffee at the Inn, yes just one…he'd want to check on the woman's daughter and granddaughter. Though it had not been ordered specifically, it was always a gesture that Lady C extended to every family who lost a loved one. There would be the bestowing of her condolences, and offer of assistance of any kind that might be needed. For Lady C was nothing if not a most benevolent woman. Yes, a quick cup of coffee, killing two birds with one stone.

He glanced out the window at the back of the sleigh as it descended the first hill. It would be a full day, it was certain. He smoothed his hand over the pocket that contained the envelopes. A good day indeed.

XXXXX

Madeline wearily climbed the stairs, carrying a tray of tea and preserve filled biscuits to Madame Giry's quarters. She'd fitted it with two cups and a pair of plates. When first she'd looked in on the woman, Nadir had been visiting. She only hoped now that the duo were still there lest she have to return to the kitchens to prepare a second tray. She'd have many deliveries to make, since none had decided to rise and come to the dining room for breakfast. A tray for DeChagny, one for Miss Meg, one for Raoul…if he were feeling so inclined to have breakfast. The doctor at least had already had a bit of breakfast. He'd been the most fortunate, for the biscuits truly were best consumed fresh from the oven when the fruits and sugars were at the peak of their perfection, and the biscuit just baked to a golden brown, not having yet had opportunity to lose height and settle down over the piping filling. Yes, they'd still be pleasant, but nothing compared to consuming something at the precise moment of perfection. She smiled as she rapped lightly on the door to Madame Giry's room.

"Do come in Madeline," Madame Giry called out. She and Nadir watched as Madeline came in carrying the tray to the small table that sat between them by the window at the back of the room. They'd been sitting there taking in full appreciation of the sun as it rose behind and eventually above the tree line. The sky was a morning lark blue, full of scant puffy clouds that added a bit of playful whimsy.

"Thank you Madeline," Madame Giry said as she sat the tray down between them. Madame Giry looked up at the normally well kept woman, reaching out to touch her arm. "My dear lady, have you not slept?"

Madeline looked at her rather startled. "My apology," she said as she smoothed her hands over her hair, straightening her apron.

"No, no, Madeline, that is not at all what I meant. You look tired dear. No doubt you've been up tending to the needs of everyone. You must find some rest lest you fall ill."

Madeline stood looking down, waiting to be dismissed.

Madame Giry stood, nodding at Nadir, who nodded in return. She reached out, slipping her arm beneath Madeline's. "Come, let's you and I have a walk to the kitchen. You've a great many young helpers that should relieve you of your morning duties. They no doubt have had a full evening's rest, and you…."

Nadir listened as he heard her voice trail off behind the closed door to the hallway. There she was again…taking care of others…it was simply in her nature. He smiled, he'd had half a mind to tell her to go to bed himself, though Madame Giry's method was much softer and likely garnered a better chance of success.

He lifted the plate of biscuits into his hands. This was a treat he would most miss when he left Raoul's house. He'd not had them prepared anywhere that were more delicious.

He sighed. He hoped that word from Erik would soon arrive. He'd rather hoped for a visit, though he'd quickly dismissed that realizing the circumstances had not permitted it. Now the best he could hope for was a note. A NOTE!

He rose, sitting his coffee cup down on the tray. Perhaps Erik had left something in his room…how careless of him…of course….that is what Erik would have done! He could only hope now that precious hours had not been lost due to his inattentiveness!

Nadir passed quickly through the small hallway and into his room. He searched with wanton eyes the table next to his bed, beneath his pillow, under the bed, the table by the window. Nothing. He walked to the window. It had been fastened shut. Perhaps he'd tucked the note in the frame of the window; that search too ended in vain.

He sighed, passing through the corridor back to Madame Giry's room rather disappointedly. What had it been that would have caused Erik to venture to Raoul's? His mind had tortured him with all manner of possibility. Had something happened to Christine? Had their worst fear fallen upon them….had that beast found them? He shuddered at the thought. Had Crawlings been chased by Erik from Chauesser….no, he knew that hadn't been the case for he'd not recognized the mount that Erik rode, though he'd only had a casual glance at it, he was certain it was not from his stable. Whatever it had been, it no doubt was serious or Erik would never have left Christine unattended.

He would have no choice to wait now. Wait for word….in whatever form it came. He resettled himself in the chair in Madame Giry's room, lifting his coffee cup and saucer. So very much swirled through his mind. Would there ever be resolution? It seemed the longer he was in this new world of Erik's, the more complex and wholly complicated it became. His mind whirled. Was DeChagny father to both Erik and Raoul? Was the elder disturbed woman in Chauesser Erik's mother? Would Meg's future contain a proposal of marriage from Raoul? Would Christine deliver her children safely? How would Erik deal with the knowledge that he had saved Raoul's life? Would Sara's accounts ever find settlement? How ever would he find her children? Would Christine and Meg be parted forever? What would Raoul do if Christine were discovered, or if he discovered the secret that she, Madame Giry, and he had kept from him….that Christine was indeed alive, and married….to the Phantom!

Nadir was shaking his head. It was all nearly too much to be real, to be true. There were no simple solutions to any of the questions he posed, for truly one laid heavy dependence on another; some having power to make all others moot. The strongest of which…if the pair were indeed they, should they ever know of it….or would it make their lives far too unbearable to live…..and what of the woman that they both loved? No, it was far too complex to reason out. It would all be decided by fate, and he….he was but a pawn in this elaborate production. Fate would do with him whatever it willed.

He set the cup down staring longingly at the door. "To love and be loved just once more….is that too much to ask?" he said under his breath as he closed his eyes, lowering his weary head.

Just then the door opened, Madame Giry's cheery face turned toward him as she walked over and joined him in the chair across. Her skin looked dewy, no doubt from the steaming pots that were in the kitchen. Nadir could smell the essence of some wonderful concoction on her garments.

"All is well. I must say she is a rather strong willed woman. She barely agreed to retire! She said she'd far too much to do to take time to sleep. It took some cajoling and assurances by the rest of the staff who'd been grateful for the rest she'd provided them by tending to all manner of things during the night. Finally the dear woman relented when they reminded her that she'd be the one preparing the standing rib roast for the late dinner that evening that Raoul had requested. He never permitted another soul but Madeline to prepare it, for he said that hers was the best" Madame Giry laughed as she took up her cup, supping from the cooled brew. "It sounds just what Raoul would say doesn't it?" She said glancing over at Nadir. She tilted her head in question. "Whatever is it?"

Nadir was staring at her, and had begun to smile unreservedly. "You are a most beautiful woman Madame Giry. I consider it an honor in having made your acquaintance."

Madame Giry lowered her head, a blush taking over her cheeks as she set cup and saucer back on the tray. She reached out taking the linen napkin laying it daintily over her lap, as she lifted the plate of biscuits. She simply could not look up. "The honor is mine sir. To meet the man that Erik spoke often of, though not by name…you were his most trusted friend."

The pair sat staring down at their plates. Silence had become their friend. When words could not express what they felt, silence seemed to intervene.

XXXXXXX

Erik held Christine in his arms by the fire. They'd listened as the door had opened and closed several more times before they were certain that the trio were off for the morning. Erik had been wrapping and unwrapping a singular curl of Christine's hair around the index finger of his right hand. They'd chatted of pleasantries, but little else. Most of what they'd have need to discuss was more private than any ears dared to hear just now, and they'd not be taking any chances. They'd talked of their dear departed friend Sara, of the Opera House reopening, of snow and the depths neither had ever witnessed in their lifetime.

The pair fell silent. A temporary lull in their conversation. Christine would be patient…Erik would begin when he was ready. Though question upon question raged in her mind, she'd allow him this courtesy. Erik's hand continued to run up and down Christine's shoulder, tenderly rubbing at the tightness in them. It was truly mesmerizing.

She closed her eyes, and though she'd intended to let him speak first, something in her stirred recalling the first time she'd fallen under the spell of his touch.

"Do you remember Erik, when we were at the top of the bridge?"

Erik turned his head, leaning Christine's back into his chest, kissing her temple. "We've covered much ground together my dear, of which bridge do you speak?"

She turned herself round in his arms beneath the covers, looking up into his eyes; they were riveting. She leaned in kissing his neck. Erik shuddered, though not from the cold. Christine leaned back looking once more at his face. She ran her hand along his jaw, up to his temple, pushing back the onyx strands of hair that had strayed into his face. She slid her hand around his head, to the back of his neck and then to his cheek.

Erik turned his head into her hand, kissing the center of her palm. He looked at her with such wonder. Each time he gazed upon her he thought he saw something new in her eyes.

She ran her hand once more down his neck, it coming to rest on the center of his chest. "You are warm my dear," Christine said leaning forward to kiss the place where her hand had rested.

Erik smiled at her. "Christine?"

She looked back into his eyes. "The bridge during Don Juan…do you remember when first you embraced me?"

Erik's eyes began to glaze over…he'd remember it until his dying day. "Yes my love….I do." Reaching up behind her neck he gently drew her to him. "Why is it that you ask this of me now?"

Christine nestled her head into the broad expanse of his embrace. "Did you know then…did you know then what I would do?"

Erik swallowed. He'd known what he'd thought then….but he'd never expected to be asked of it. He thought for a moment. "I knew you would follow your heart." He said, kissing her forehead. That was entirely true, though he'd not been certain where her heart would lead her.

"But did you know, beyond a shadow of all doubt, did you know we would be together forever?" Christine asked, turning her face toward his.

Erik looked down at her face full of innocent wonder. He swallowed again. Though it pained him to admit it, he would be honest. "My dear, dear, Christine, mon cheri. My heart was filled with hope. It longed for it to be true, my body pleaded for it. It was my mind that doubted. The rational man that doubted that one so lovely, so angelic, so pure, would choose a creature such as me over a life of comfort and nobility."

Christine grew quiet. Erik worried that he'd somehow said something that had displeased her. Just when he'd thought he'd apologize, she turned, sitting up on her knees. Her head now hanging just slightly above his. She looked down into his eyes, taking his hand laying it on her collarbone. "My love I knew….I knew from the moment you laid your hands on me, so strong, so confident, so assured." She smiled at him. He looking up into her pleading eyes. "I knew from when you first touched me Erik. I knew I shan't ever love another in all of the world as I had loved you."

A tear ran down his cheek, he blinked, looking away briefly before looking back into her eyes.

"And each time you lay your hands upon me, I am reassured all over again, that our love is at is should be, that in all of the world there was no more perfect match for me than you, and you for me." She kissed him tenderly on the lips, whispering into his ear. "My love, I am yours and you are mine, let us find ourselves reunited in mind, spirit…and body."

Erik could take it no longer. He slid his arms about her waist, carefully, gently turning her around bringing her to rest next to him. "Christine," he said, looking down at her, "I've so very much to tell you…"

She reached her hand up behind his neck, pulling his cheek to hers, whispering into his ear, "love me Erik….love me." He looked into her eyes, once more in the glow of the fire, the colors of the room swirling in his mind…yes…memory by memory…she was erasing his past….

Dear Faithfuls: Alas, the Friday trip did not turn out to be, but I will be gone once again next Monday. No updates until Tuesday! Have a wonderful weekend….and everyone get a head start on their holiday shopping!


	170. Opportune

Chapter 170 Opportune 

The undertaker walked outside, looking this way and that down LeMortem Street. A few of the other undertakers had emerged from their buildings, stretching, all looking like they'd had their fill of work, and were in desperate need of fresh air. They nodded at one another, it had been busy for all of them.

Perdue scratched at his chin, lifting the small piece of rather yellowed paper from his pocket. It was old and tattered, no doubt part of a family's inheritance. He opened it, looking at the words once more. "Plot 27, single". He'd already dispatched his men to locate the plot and dig the hole necessary for the burial. It had to take place today, the law insisted upon it. Cold or not, prepared or not she had been too many days dead. As it was he wasn't certain the truth had not been extended a day or more.

He stretched, a mere utterance "one on her way, four more to go." Then he ventured back in.

XXXXXXX

The young apprentice pulled the last of the white covering over the woman's face. He'd completed the ablution, and had dressed her in her proper garments. "She's ready for the casket sir," he called out to his employer. The man had been sitting in the other room sipping from his cold cup of coffee for more than an hour.

He turned to join the boy. An apprentice always had the final work to do in preparing a body, and there had been very little that needed doing on this one, it having arrived already bled.

"Very well, let us see to it." He walked to the back room, assisting the young man in making movement to the box, laying her to rest inside. "Did the man instruct where she was to be buried?" The elder man inquired as they positioned her in the center.

"No, he'd not said, though he did say in his note that he would be in this very day to make final settlement. Perhaps we can inquire of his intentions upon his arrival." The younger man said.

The older man looked a bit irritated. "No mention of what plot, what place? Surely she's not without one!" He exclaimed. His mind still wrestled with the strange man who'd come to town not weeks before and had no less than two women dead in his presence alone. It all seemed so very odd, very odd indeed. It had distracted him from all normal thoughts.

The young man looked at him rather disgustedly. It mattered little to him. He had a faith in people that the elder man seemed to lack. "If the man said he'd be in to take care of the arrangements, then I should think he shall. He seems to be a man of his word." The man lowered the cover to the box, closing the woman inside.

"Ah yes, but what of his words…we know nothing of this man, nothing at all."

The young man was shaking his head behind the undertaker whose back was now turned. "In time we shall sir. He's already paid you for one unfortunate woman, we've no reason to believe otherwise of the man." He disappeared behind the wall, pouring water from the pitcher, beginning to wash his hands up to his elbows. Perhaps he was a bit more affable than his elder counterpart, but he saw no reason to assume the worst.

The older man just stood, staring out the window. Perhaps he'd become a bit too jaded. Years in the business of caring for the remnants of the dead had likely helped in his rather faulted impression of people. Still he could not help but wonder if the man had some arrant ways not yet revealed.

He crooked his head, if his eyes did not deceive him, there was a rather finely dressed young woman maneuvering through the snow on the esplanade, accompanied by a young man. Not far in the distance was a sleigh…..he knew it well…though he only saw it twice a year. It was regal and larger than any others he'd ever seen, save the royal carriages of course, but that carriage belonged to one woman, and one only, Lady C. Now his only mystery that remained was, who might this young couple be?

He watched as they approached the porch, knocking the snow from the bottom of their boots. They briefly hesitated at the door, not being certain if it were proper to knock first at such an establishment. The man smiled, surely they'd no experience in this manner of things. He walked to the door, opening it. "Welcome!" He said with a heartily outstretched hand to the young man. "Do come in." He looked over the pair of them, quickly assessing that neither of them were yet twenty. No doubt a family member had died and they'd not know what to do. He loved the young and naïve. No, he'd not gouge them for money, but rather play on their sorrows, convincing them of all the things that they would need to show their loved one proper respect. They appeared to have a bit of money, so the source of payment was not his chief concern.

The man focused on the younger man, nearly ignoring the young lady until she came forward, quite directly saying to him; "we've come on behalf of Monsieur Courtland. I was instructed to deliver this," she handed him the bundle of funds, "and this," she said, handing him the sealed envelope containing the note which Stephan had entrusted to her.

The undertaker looked at the pair with curious eyes, glancing back and forth between them. He looked at the young man, walking over to him. "What is this, can you not speak?" He said in a chiding, sardonic manner.

He simply stared at him, then glanced at Misty who was giving him a stern look of consternation. "She's in charge sir!"

The man began to laugh heartily at his reply. "No doubt she is!" the man said as he opened first the thick envelope of money, carefully counting it, his eyebrows raised. It was certainly sufficient funds to cover any expense he'd have in caring for the woman's body.

He glanced at them, laying it down on the counter, ripping open the second envelope, removing the note from it. He glanced over their shoulders. He could see someone dismounting the sleigh that was now situated across the street from his establishment. No doubt whomever it was that Lady C had sent on her behalf, had come to inquire who had deceased during the storm. He'd give them their full attention once this matter was settled.

He unfolded the note quickly reading it.

My Good Man: Please see to the final disposition of this woman. Whatever her daughter and granddaughter are in need of in terms of the woman's burial, please see to it that it is provided for them without delay. I shall trust that you will find a suitable plot, perhaps near a tree and stream for the woman. Once all has been completed, please allow me the courtesy of the knowledge of her final disposition. I would prefer that the matter in which her final expenses have been handled will remain a rather private matter. I've no wish to embarrass her family with knowledge of this in the community. I shall trust in you for the utmost discretion. – Monsieur Courtland.

The man refolded the paper looking Misty squarely in the eye. "You may tell Monsieur Courtland that all he's requested shall be done for him. I know just the place for the woman, and there is a tree and a babbling brook lay not far off." He paused. "And do tell him, that if he'd like, for a fee, I could provide a bench at the gravesite for her family to rest when they visit her."

Misty nodded, "I shall convey your thoughts to him good sir, we bid you good day." She was turning to leave, the boy who'd bitten his lip through the entire interchange, followed her closely, helping her to reaffix her cloak.

The bell on the door clinked, and in walked a rather tall gentleman. Misty gazed upon him with such wonder. He was tall, well dressed, well groomed, and as handsome a man as she could ever recall seeing. He walked passed her, tipping his top hat in greeting to her and the young man.

"Ahh Andre. No doubt you've come to retrieve a list for Lady C. I shall have it for you. It is a rather short list, compared to what would have been expected in the wake of the storm." The undertaker turned and was walking back toward his office.

"No good sir. It is true, I am here on the business of our dear Lady, but that is not the matter I've need to discuss with you."

Misty was not truly trying to eavesdrop, but the man, Andre, spoke with such a clear crisp tone, they could make out his every word with veritable ease.

"I am here on the matter of Victoria. I am afraid that I do not know her last name."

Misty had pulled her cloak around her and was prepared to leave, her young companion reaching for the door.

"What say you of her name?" The undertaker said. He'd prepared five women and two men in the last day alone, only several of which he knew well enough to know their names.

Andre looked about a bit irritated to find that the young couple had not yet departed. "The woman, the one who was brought here from the tavern the evening before."

"Yes, she is ready," he looked at Andre, "why is it that you inquire?"

"Lady C wishes to be certain that all her arrangements have been taken care of, and funds provided for her disposition." The undertaker began to laugh, causing Andre to fidget in irritation. "What is it that amuses you so good man?" He knew of Lady C's great disdain for the man, she thought him to be a bete noire (someone particularly detested or avoided) and he must say, he rather agreed with her opinion of him!

"Allow me to introduce you?" The man walked from behind the counter, quickly approaching Misty as she prepared to depart. "My lady," he said, taking her hand. "My good sir," he said walking her over to Andre. "My lady, this is Andre, he is the envoy for our dear Lady C."

Misty shook his hand, immediately hearing Stephan's words replaying in her mind… "speak with no one except the undertaker". She'd be proper and formal. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance Monsieur." She said, curtseying politely.

The undertaker turning to Andre, "this young squire, as fate would have it, deposited her here at this precise moment of your arrival! She is a young miss from the very man's home, whose become quite the local hero in these last days. On top of all other gestures, he's sent her on his behalf to take care of the very thing you've come to inquire about for Lady C!"

Misty was aghast. She'd heard rumor of Lady C, though she'd never been to one of her celebrations, nor seen the woman. She'd heard much about her kindness and benevolence. All of Chauesser seemed to have a fond affection for her.

Andre took both of Misty's hands into his, shaking them as if she were a long forgotten friend. "Dear lady, what is your name?" He looked her in the eye with great anticipation.

She stammered, "Misty, Monsieur."

He smiled at her widely. "Now dear lady, do call me by my given name Andre. I am certainly not yet a Monsieur, nor squire," he turned smiling at the flattery with which the undertaker had addressed him. "It is true that I do act on Lady C's behalf." He was smiling profusely, though Misty could not imagine why. "It is as if fortune has smiled upon me this very day!" He asseverated, leading her over to a bench in the outer room, a bit out of earshot of the unusually interested undertaker. Young Thomas followed them, closing the door between the two rooms to afford them a bit of privacy.

The undertaker grimaced. He was rather curious as to what business the two of them would make such friendly acquaintance. He sighed, perhaps it would be revealed in due course.

Andre smiled as he and Misty sat on the bench. Thomas had proved to be a most unusual companion, entirely more respectful and proper than Misty had ever envisioned he would be. He walked out of doors, pulling the door closed behind him.

"Dear lady, may I be so forward as to call you by name?"

Misty nodded. Andre had a pleasant demeanor, brilliant smile, and conducted himself with acute aplomb, making her swoon, quickly winning her over.

He nodded, "then dear lady…Misty…I shall tell you of what fortune it is that you and I should meet in this very place. If I'd remembered the envelope, we'd have missed one another entirely…it was simply fated." He was looking at her with such thankfulness.

Misty turned her head a bit to the side, she did not understand.

Andre apologized. "I am sorry, this makes no sense to you at all I'm certain. You see, Lady C has sent me to the village of Chauesser to tend to several matters of business on her behalf. She'd sent along with me a post I was to deliver to your master's home this very day!"

He smiled at her, her eyes growing wide….Stephan would truly not have approved, he'd specified, no visitors!

"You see, in my haste I'd left the envelope on the table in my quarters. I'd had to return for it, delaying shamefully, my schedule of tasks. Truly I'd feared I'd not have them all done before the young sun would have started to diminish thus forcing my return before I'd completed all I'd been sent to the City for!"

Misty was beginning to understand the man's excitement. Their unexpected crossing of paths would save him the trip, for surely she could deliver the post herself. Their meeting indeed had been most opportune!

Andre smiled at her. Something about her made him feel as though he could trust her to keep his confidences, though truly they'd be revealed the very next day. "You see Misty, Lady C heard of your master's, Monsieur Courtland's rather selfless act in rescuing the poor Victoria. True it is rather sad that she'd not lived long, but at least she'd been in the company of her loved ones. Had he not found her, she might very well still be lost. You see, Lady C has long looked for another she could trust in this City, someone who would share in her altruistic ventures." He was looking Misty squarely in the eye, handing her the thick ivory envelope. "You see, though I do not truly know the contents of this envelope, I can tell that it contains much more than a simple notice of her impending arrival at your master's house!" Misty gasped. "Are you alright Misty?" Andre said, a bit of sincere concern in his voice.

"Yes, quite." In truth she was terrified! Not only was this young man speaking of visiting himself, but what's more the golden benefactor of Chauesser herself! "My dear sir…Andre…if I might inquire…do you know when she intends to pay call on his family?"

Andre looked at her most sincerely, "on the morrow dear lady. That is why I was to deliver the post before mid-day so as to allow his household proper time to plan for her arrival."

Misty's mind was darting this way and that. She'd have to delay. "I am terribly sorry to inform you that the Monsieur and his wife have departed the City for Paris, to attend…to attend a funeral. They'll not return until Sunday, or perhaps the day after."

Andre settled back against the bench. "Four days? They'll not be back before then dear lady?"

Misty was nodding, "I'm quite afraid that is true. I dare say they'd not be prepared to take visitors until Tuesday, perhaps Wednesday of the week next."

She glanced at the floor. She knew it not to be true, but in truth, she really didn't know how long it would be before they'd return. Stephan had said he thought a day or two perhaps….this would give them a bit of time.

"I see," Andre said, looking rather disappointedly at the floor. "Lady C will be quite distressed to learn of this delay. She'd so looked very forward to speaking with him, long ahead of the festival that arrives not two weeks from now. Perhaps you could give this to the Monsieur when he returns, and then send us a reply, letting us know what would be suitable for him to receive her."

Misty was nodding, Andre had been rather accommodating. "I shall do as you propose. I will give him the note straightaway when he arrives." She stood, walking toward the door. "It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance…Andre." She nodded at him.

He rose walking over to open the door for her, but rested his palm against it. Lady C would be most grateful for whatever information that he'd brought to her about the man. "Do tell me, what is the gentleman like, away from the City, in the leisure of his own home? Is he as humble as he appeared to be whilst in the City?"

Misty smiled at him, reaching out for the door handle, "more so Andre, more so. He is a wonderful, respectful, honorable man sir. He has taken good care of his household, even in his absence he'd provided for their every need. Now that he occupies the house, he is gentle and patient, and not too demanding of us. He is a doting husband…most pleased by even the slightest efforts of his wife." She smiled at Andre. "He is one of the finest men I've had opportunity to know in my lifetime sir."

Andre smiled with great pleasure. That would be well received by Lady C. Yes well received indeed. "Are you off to return to the house or have you other business to attend to in the City?" Andre inquired looking Misty in the eye.

"We are to return straightaway after delivering the instructions and funds to the undertaker. We've much to do there. Monsieur Courtland is a generous soul, though he does not take kindly to idle behavior!"

Andre laughed, it too was something the households had in common! "I shall look forward to your post upon Monsieur Courtland's return. Perhaps you and I shall see one another at the celebration!"

Misty smiled, "perhaps we shall." She tugged at the door, and he opened it for her, providing proper escort to Thomas who had been waiting most patiently outside in the cold.

Andre smiled as he watched them walk away. He turned, returning to the undertaker. "Now good sir, everything then has been set in order for the woman?"

The undertaker was nodding, "yes, the only thing I've need to acquire now is the plot to put her in! The man was specific, he'd wanted one by a tree, and a stream if possible…he wanted it to be pleasant when her family visited her."

Andre smiled profusely. It seems as if fortune had paid him yet another visit! "Dear sir, look no further. Lady C has provided a plot for her. She'd had it a number of years already, and wished for me to convey to you that she preferred that you use that plot for the woman's disposition."

The undertaker smiled too…..he'd been paid for the plot, and now one had quite literally fallen into his lap, and he'd done nothing save introduce the two people! "I shall see to it right away!" He said as he watched Andre don his hat once more.

"Do tell me, how are the preparations coming for the festival?"

Andre smiled at him as he reaffixed his cloak. "They are getting on quite well sir, I do thank you for inquiring!" With that he was gone. He was rather glad to be out of the company of that man. No, he'd not had any wholly unpleasant encounters with him, there was just something that nagged at him about the man. Now he'd be on to the mercantile and then off to the Inn whilst the shopkeeper scurried about filling his order.

He'd be home in time for an early supper if he so chose, and a nice long visit with Lady C.

Misty and Thomas were already at the City's edge. Save the one unavoidable contact at the undertaker, she'd done exactly as she had been instructed. Monsieur Courtland was bound to be pleased with her. Now she carried word of an impending visit from Lady C. She knew they'd have at least four days time to prepare the house for the visit…she hoped that they'd have everything ready before then. Now all she'd have to decide is whether she wanted to send a post to Paris, though was not certain where in the city she would find them.

XXXXX

In the room full of colored fabrics a couple in love shared all that they had with one another. Though the atelier was empty, and all was silent in all other ways, their love screamed at the top of its lungs, calling out to the very reaches of their pasts, to the very distance of their futures, claiming ownership over it all. Now they pair lay resting in one another's arms. Though they were tired they could not sleep, they wanted nothing more than to bask in the glow of being reunited once more.

Erik sat up, pulling Christine up with him. She leaning against his bare chest, he running his hand mindlessly up and down the length of her exposed arm. She turned placing a gentle kiss upon his chest.

He pulled himself up to the edge of the divan, looking at Christine over his shoulder. She was smiling at him with such sleepy eyes. She reached out for him. He took her outstretched hand into his. Standing he led her to her feet, wrapping a blanket beneath her arms around her chest, and bunched it beneath her arm. He turned retrieving one for himself, wrapping it around his waist. Taking her hand once more into his, he lifted her knuckles to his lips, placing a delicate kiss on them. He led her over to the door that opened out into the cooridor.

He squinted just slightly as his eyes took in the brightness of the sun that shone in through the windows of the outer rooms. He turned to look at Christine. She'd no question in her eye…it was as if she'd known where he was taking her without his ever having to utter a word.

As they stepped out into the hallway, it was clear that the remainder of the house was not nearly so pleasant as that room had been. As they passed down the hall, they felt a warm sensation about their ankles. Erik smiled, the woman had anticipated their arrival in the room. As he led Christine into the parlor they were greeted by a warm fire. Erik took Christine into an embrace, leading her back and shoulders to his chest, he resting his head next to hers.

The pair gazed on the pictures together, searching each one without a word. He held her one hand in his, laying their intertwined fingers lightly over her stomach. The other hand he held in his resting on her collarbone, his thumb sliding gently on the flesh of her neck. Their thoughts flying back over the distance of years that were covered by each loving painting. They had both been there, for each and every one of the experiences, it was a history, a past, that they had shared together, captured forever on canvas for generations to come to view, though the details so precious to the artist would be lost over time. For now, they reveled in it. Not only in the methods and mediums employed to complete each work…but of the life they'd shared for so very long. Truly they'd been married but a few months…but they'd been joined in an intangible way…for years.


	171. Striking Memories

**Chapter 171 Striking Memories, Shivers, and Deals**

"That's twenty four, here's twenty five, there's twenty-six…that has to be it! It's right under the tree there!" The one grave digger said, feeling rather triumphant.

"But that's right on the edge…a good shift of land and the casket will go tumbling down onto the rocks below!" The one said looking in astonishment at the other man who was already starting to move the snow with his shovel.

"Good sir, if there's a shift great enough to move that casket out of the ground and down the hill, I shan't think it would be the greatest of our worries! Besides, you received the same instructions from Perdue…it must be done today!"

He grimaced as his shovel met with somewhat firmer ground beneath the snow. He pushed it into the earth, jumping up on both sides of the metal as it slid into the dirt below. "The surface is firm, but the ground beneath gives way quite easily," he said nodding toward the other man's shovel. "If we've this done before lunch, perhaps you and I can go to the tavern for an ale!"

The other man returned his sentiment with vigor. He shook his head as he joined the first. Whatever would have caused someone to buy such a pitiful piece of land to be buried on….surely he knew not.

XXXXX

The woman sat up in bed. She knew it must be morning for a slight shaft of light was peeking beneath the heavy curtains that had been pulled over the windows no doubt to aid her to slumber. She brought herself to a seated position, leaning against the head of the bed. She'd pulled the covers from her chest, down to her waist, she was warm…far too warm. She ran her hands up over her shoulders, around her neck, and then swept her dampened hair up into her hands, laying it carefully over the backboard, thus allowing for the flesh of her neck to cool.

She felt worn and wasted. She'd not had that dream in years, and it drained everything out of her. A gentle, staggered sob rose from her chest; she quickly quelled it lest her tears return. She sighed as memories washed over her now conscious thought. It had been that very act, the events of that very night that had been the beginning of her end. Though she felt as if her very life left her that day, it would take decade upon decade for her body to die joining a spirit that had surely taken leave of the flesh some years before. She tilted her head back, sighing, leaning heavily against the wall. She ran her hands in semi-circles over the rounds of her cheeks and the depth of her eyes. Oh how she wished she could erase those memories…for what good purpose did she cling to them? As each day passed, they became of less and less use to her. She sighed again; each breath somehow easing her mind back into he present reality. Though she'd tried to get on with her life, she simply could not. The memory of what might have been was the only thing that now kept her tethered to this world.

Her mind wandered back to a time when all was seemingly right with the world. Her eyes closed, she could see him…handsome and strong, telling her of the life they could have in one another's company…in Paris…the parties….the home…the family….the love. Her lips quivered. Oh if she could take anything back…she would take back her final refusal….the last time she'd seen him… "Marry me Claire…marry me…let us abandon all the wealth of this world if it must be so…for what will all of it mean if we're not to know true love again in our lives?" She'd walked away from him…he had begun to cry. It was that last glance back over her shoulder she would never forget…he stood there tall, as handsome as she'd ever seen him, but a brokenness in his eye that she could nearly not bear… "I love you, I shall always love you" he'd said.

Her hand flew to her face…it was so long ago, why did she torture herself so? "No…STOP!" She said to herself disgustedly. Her own weakness of mind adding agitation to her already aching heart.

She shook her head, bringing her feet over to the edge of the bed as she swung her legs down. She tugged at the night clothes that were tangled beneath her. Before she'd given much thought of it, she was out of bed, shuffling over to the window.

Her eyes squinted heavily as she pushed the curtain aside. The sun was as bright as any Spring day, but its luminosity was intensified by the layer of snow that still lay stubbornly on the ground. Slowly she began to blink, allowing her eyes to adjust to the intensity of the light which they'd been deprived of. A few moments of painful blinking and tearing, and dabbing at her eyes and she could narrowly focus on the out-of-doors as long as her hand rested above her brow guarding it from the harshest rays.

She glanced skyward, it was a beautiful blue. She saw cardinals in the trees that lay just outside her window pecking in fervor at the suet ball that had been rolled in seeds and hung there for her enjoyment. This particular view showed nothing but cove and forest. It was so very peaceful.

The tears in her eyes caused by the brilliant sun soon gave way to the tears that rose from her heart. She rested her palm against the chilled window pane. The warmth of her hand causing a steamed impression of her palm and fingers to form on the glass. She leaned her head forward, her shoulders shaking, her head turning down as a sob rose in her chest. Through the staggered breaths she uttered in near silence, "my son, my love, wherever life now finds you, know that I shall love you to my dying breath! May God be merciful on your souls, and may fate see fit to bring you every manner of happiness in this moment."

She turned away from the window, drying her eyes. It was time to dress, time to take care of the business there was to be done in preparation for her visit to the newest man in the City, one whose acquaintance she was hopeful to favorably make.

XXXX

DeChagny jerked awake. He was looking this way and that in the room. A sudden shiver running down his spine. He rubbed at his eyes, his heart was thumping. He'd not known what woke him, but it had sat him straight up from a dead sleep.

He rested both hands on the side of the bed as he dangled his feet from the edge. He was shaking his head. He'd not had a normal pattern of sleep in weeks. It was no wonder his body shan't know how to react to all his risings and restings. He sighed heavily. No doubt it was morning, perhaps even late morning now, and he had to say he was feeling a bit of hunger. He turned his head as there was a rather faint but insistent knock at the door.

"Come in," he called, hoping it to be either the doctor with news of Raoul's condition, or Madeline with a pot of coffee and some pastry.

A slender young woman, head bowed low so as to avoid eye-contact with the man, came in carrying a tray. From a distance he could see something steaming from it, though his focus was not yet clear. "Monsieur," she said curtseying politely before she turned to leave.

"Young miss, what of Madeline?" He called out to her. Personal service such as this was always within Madeline's realm.

"Monsieur, I'm afraid she's resting now, something about having been up all night." She smiled and departed.

DeChagny slipped from the side of the bed, donning his slippers as he shuffled over to the chair before the table. He wondered if all others had risen for breakfast, and if they had, why he'd not been retrieved. As he came to the tray he smiled. It was indeed a press of strong coffee he could tell, and a silver dome covering a china plate. A domed cover meant something savory and warm….just what he needed at that precise moment. He settled himself into the chair, taking the napkin on his lap. Lifting the dome, a bit of steam rose from its contents now uncovered. A poached egg, several biscuits, and a generous slice of ham; how wonderful. He began searching the tray for some preserves when he noticed the small folded white bunch of paper that lay just off to the side of his demitasse. He put down his fork and knife. "Whatever could this be?" He opened it, and began to read.

XXXXXXXXXX

Meg woke, gently stretching under the silken covers, gazing up at the delicate layers of fine silk that covered the canopy above her. She lay entirely outstretched, as her mind and body began to wake. She'd thought she'd heard the door to her room close, but saw no one; surely it had been her imagination.

As she yawned, a faint reminder of the events of the night previous gave her a painful prickle on her cheek. Her hand rose to cover it. She sighed. At last the stitches were gone, and there was nothing more to do, save continuing with the application of salve several times each day. She yawned again, this time holding her cheek in place. She felt amazingly rested, perhaps more so than she had in days.

She closed her eyes, exhaling. She'd made it her first night without Raoul in her room to guard her…she'd made it without incident. Turning her head, she looked at the small table that lay next to the bed. She'd had some assistance of course from the pill that the doctor had asked her to take for the discomfort of removing the stitches.

Meg sat up, looking over at the window. She could see hints of light around the edges of the heavy fabric that covered it. She wondered why none had come to wake her, especially her mother, but perhaps the doctor had instructed them to allow her to rest. She had to admit, waking up entirely when one is ready, instead of being roused from your slumber by duty or tradition, was an entirely enjoyable thing!

She slipped from the bed, pulling on her robe as she made her way over to the window. She pushed back the heavy drapery and squinted at the bright sun that shone through the room. It made all of the crystal finery in the room come to life, as if a hundred stars now danced in the room behind her; it was breathtaking.

She pushed the curtain behind the hook so as to allow the sun to flood the room. Turning back to gaze upon it she noticed a tray sitting in front of the fireplace. Moving slowly over to it, she took note of all the magnificent details of such a well appointed room. Never in all of her exorbitant dreams, had she ever imagined she'd be surrounded by such fine things, least of all in a house that perhaps one day would be her own.

Once arrived at the divan sitting in front of the fireplace, she came to rest upon it, placing her hand alongside the small coffee press that lay on the tray, it was still quite nearly hot! Her eyes roamed the tray; it held a silver domed plate. She smiled, lifting the lid, the steamy scent-laden vapor greeting her nose before she could even behold the contents. It was a dish of steaming potted fruits, several biscuits and a petite sliver of ham. The very scent of it made her mouth water. She readied herself, napkin in her lap, coffee poured in her cup, utensils in hand. She lowered her head offering up a simple prayer. She'd been mildly hungry when she'd retired the last evening, and this was a welcome treat.

Surely everyone else had risen for breakfast at a more suitable hour, she thought as she took her first bites. They were utterly wonderful. She took bite after bite, sipping in between from her coffee cup. Raoul's household was rather fond of strong coffee, and she herself was growing rather accustomed to it. She'd finish her breakfast, freshen up, and dress for the day. For the first time in as many as she could recall since she'd arrive at DeChagny Manor, she felt ready to greet the day, to make herself useful in some way…now if only Raoul would allow it.

XXXXX

The doctor slipped his pocket watch from his trousers. It was half-past nine. He glanced over at the empty cup that he'd brought with him from the coffee he'd consumed with the biscuit Madeline had given him hours ago. How he wished he'd have another hot cup. He glanced over at the bed. Raoul had barely moved all night. The medicine he'd given him for his comfort had made him nearly immobile. It was good for his healing. The doctor had come and gone several times, making certain that Raoul, in his slumber had not tugged nor scratched at the stitches in his scalp. Now he simply sat in the room, hoping to be there for him when he finally woke. There would be much to speak of, and he'd not want any interference.

He hoped that Raoul would not mind that a small swath of hair had been removed in order to suture his gaping gash. A few months of growth and it would be barely noticeable. For the time being he would have to wear it drawn back if he did not want the attention for it. Raoul was face down in his pillow, and it would seem he'd barely moved a muscle since he'd been helped there.

The doctor stretched, glancing now over at the divan, and then at the door. When he'd arrived in Raoul's room hours before, he'd pulled a simple blanket over himself as he reclined ever-so-slightly in the rather large chair. Now he grew stiff and rather weary, and wondered if Raoul might sleep another few hours, perhaps he should recline on the divan.

His contemplations were interrupted as he heard a small rap on the door, and a young lady entered without invitation. She walked in without a word over to the doctor, filling his cup and handing it back to him. She leaned over whispering in his ear. "Madeline did not say if she'd yet fed you breakfast Barron. Would you prefer that I bring a tray for you here, or would you like to.."

The doctor replied before she finished, "a bit of breakfast would be lovely," he glanced over at Raoul, "and I think I should like to take it here. Do be a dear and bring a second cup with you when you return, in case your master stirs."

He touched the young woman's forearm. She nodded and departed. Though he'd have preferred a hot bath and his own comfortable bed, he'd no want to leave Raoul's side; he was worried for him. The physical injury, the hallucinations, the death of the boy…they would all have to be addressed straight away. He pulled the blanket back up around his shoulders, tilting his head back ever so slightly into the corner of the chair. No, it wasn't the most comfortable, but it would suffice for now. He feared if he reclined any further, he'd be off into a deep sleep, being of little good if Raoul stirred.

XXXXX

Misty and Thomas were eagerly covering the last distance on their return to the winter house. She'd decided it made little sense to dispatch a courier to Paris to send a message to Stephan for she truly wouldn't have known where to send one. Erphan had told her they'd likely be back on the morrow, which would still allow for their preparation for Lady C's arrival.

The remainder of the house would be set in order by the staff, an appropriate high tea prepared. She had half a mind to send someone to Courtland Manor to retrieve another set of more formal dishes, but then she'd dismissed the idea. The pattern at the winter house was lovely, and though it had become been rather common place to those who lived there, they would still be elegant enough for a proper tea. She'd already been thinking of the menu, and of what needed to be tended in the parlor. They would work into the wee hours of the morning if they had need to so as to put things in order for the visit.

She glanced over at Thomas. He had proven to be a most gentile companion. He'd neither spouted gibberish, nor acted inappropriately, nor begged to travel into the City further. She slowed her horse just slightly allowing his to come along side.

"I would like to extend to you my sincere gratitude for tending to Monsieur Courtland's private matters with me this day in Chauesser. I know that he will be exceedingly pleased with you Thomas."

He smiled at her. "You are most welcome Misty."

"Do tell dear friend, you are normally as wiggly as a butterfly escaping his cocoon, and chatter as a squirrel guarding its tree hollow. Yet today finds you a most quiet and docile man. Are you not feeling well?" She said with certain concern in her voice.

Thomas smiled at her and looked down. "It is Erphan."

Misty looked at him with question, a slight laugh, and a playful furrow in her brow. "Erphan? Whatever does this have to do with Erphan?"

Thomas was blushing just slightly. "You see…Erphan told us of how Stephan had rewarded his obedience. We've all been speaking of it, the stable hands and I." He paused looking out toward the house as they approached it. "If he was willing to take note of Erphan…perhaps he would look upon me with favor if he finds that I too can be trustworthy."

Misty smiled at him. Truly that would make Monsieur genuinely pleased. "You are most wise Thomas. I shall be certain to tell him of your cooperation."

The pair dismounted their horses, Thomas leading them back to the stable. Misty went straightaway into the kitchen. She'd find the head cook and gather the others. If all was to be made ready, they would need every hand in the house, and likely those in the stable to help them.

XXXXXXX

The young doctor walked down the dark wood paneled hall to the room at the end. He wondered to himself how many times his own grandfather had walked those very same halls saving lives, offering condolences. He gently rapped on the door, waiting for an invitation. If he heard none he would allow the women to rest.

A faint voice came from behind the door, "do come in." Nicole turned back to her mother. She'd finished brushing her hair and was now braiding it.

The doctor came in closing the door behind him. "I'd thought perhaps that this morning would find the two of you still resting." He glanced over at the bowl of soup and the coffee that he'd brought Nicole earlier. He smiled; she had finished it all. "How are we feeling this morning?" He said walking over sitting his bag on the table by the fireplace and walking over to the vanity next to where Nicole's mother sat.

Nicole thought. There was always the pleasant, most expected reply…the one you exchange with strangers, or those with whom you'd not have want to share anything too personal. Somehow that did not seem fair, nor appropriate with a man who'd offered so much to them. "We are a bit tired, that is certain." Nicole said, putting the ribbon at the bottom of her mother's braid.

"No doubt you will be for several days more. The exposure to such cold…and all that followed it…would be a drain on anyone." He said as he pulled up a chair. He had learned so much in school, not the least of which was the fine art of assessing one's patient by just observing them. It was much less intrusive, and far easier to gain honest answers. One cannot easily conceal labored breathing, nor winces from pain, nor hunched shoulders, nor furrowed brow. He was scanning them with his eyes, assessing them with his mind.

"Doctor do tell, since we are all here together now, quite in the privacy of these quarters…how much time…how much time do we have together?" Nicole's mother inquired with sincerity.

Nicole's eyes grew heavy. She dropped her hands to her side, the brush hanging in one hand.

The doctor glanced at Nicole. He rose first pulling the bench he'd been sitting on closer to her mother. Then taking Nicole's hand, he led her to sit next to him on the bench next to him. He glanced back and forth between the women. He reached out taking Nicole's hand, and then her mother's.

Nicole was blushing heavily, and though tears were freely flowing down her cheeks, she felt no need to hide them. She took her mother's hand in hers.

The trio sat in a triangle looking at one another before the doctor began. "My dear lady, Nicole, much depends on how one cares for themselves." He looked at Nicole's mother. "I've mentioned to Nicole that you have done exceedingly well my dear lady. Many I've seen never managed to have nor raise a child of their own. In a great many respects, you've done exceedingly better than anyone could have anticipated." Tears were welling in the woman's eyes. "You've a bit of a fighter in you, which bodes well for you. No doubt it is what has carried you thus far."

He turned to look at Nicole then returned his focus on the woman. "I shall be frank, as I know that you do not wish for anything but the truth. In all I have seen, and I've seen a number of them, I would say you've the summer, but no more."

The woman looked at him with stony eyes. She'd be strong for Nicole's sake. "And the best you've ever seen…the one you've seen that has lived the longest?"

The doctor looked down at the ground, he knew what she was hoping to hear, but the truth was the truth. "My dear lady….that would be you."

Nicole squeezed her mother's hand. "Mother, we shall do our best hmmm?" She glanced at the doctor. "Sir…" she stammered, "I am sorry, I do not even know your name.."

The doctor smiled at her, "of course Nicole, in all of this confusion, forgive me, I'd not properly introduced myself. My name is John Paul Perdue."

Nicole blinked, nodding in acknowledgement. "John Paul, I've carefully considered your most generous offer to assist my mother and I in exchange for…I suppose you would say all manner of information regarding the citizens of Chauesser. I should like very much to kindly accept it…with a few minor conditions if I might."

The doctor looked at her, a bit confused by her statement. "Conditions?"

Nicole nodded her head. "You see sir, what information I would give you, I would have done so without need of exchange, for you have come to be a most trusted friend. If I am to accept such assistance from you…I've need for my own worth, to provide much more for you than mere knowledge. Please agree to allow me to look after your house for you, do your laundry, prepare meals for you. Set up your household. It has been a long while since the house was tended, I'm certain that not so since your grandfather's passing."

The doctor was about to protest, but Nicole interrupted.

"I know as a young bachelor you've probably managed the art of cooking, and tending a house for yourself is no doubt a fairly easy chore…but I have been doing this all of my life, and am quite skilled at it, if I may say so humbly. If you would agree to those terms, than I shall most heartily agree to accept the help you have offered for my mother."

Nicole's mother's eyes darted back and forth between the doctor and Nicole. She glanced down taking notice that he was stroking Nicole's hand with his thumb. A fleeting grin traveled her face, and then was gone.

The doctor looked down, and then at the older woman. He knew they'd no means to pay him. He knew further still if he'd insist that Nicole would be far too busy with her own work and caring for her mother to ever have time to assist him, he would only heap insult onto injury for the poor girl. The woman would need the help, either way he would be there. He supposed there was no harm in agreeing to the terms just now. As time went on, delicate negotiations could be made if they were needed. He glanced at Nicole, "done".

The three squeezed one another's hands. A deal had been struck, and all would benefit from it. There was a fresh round of tears, this time they were not of sorrow…but of relief…relief that in one another they could seek refuge.

XXXXX

Erik kissed Christine's temple as she turned into his arms, she slipping her arms about his waist, drawing him to her. She closed her eyes…she'd never felt more loved, more protected, more cherished than she did right then. Erik ran his hand tenderly along her back. "Choose one Christine?" She looked up into his eyes. He placed a tender playful kiss on the tip of her nose. "Choose one, and I shall tell you the story of it." Christine smiled at him, turning toward the pictures. "Let me see….let us start with this one." She said pointing."

"Ah yes…" he squeezed her hand. He would not leave out any detail.


	172. It Was I

Chapter 172 It Was I 

Erik sighed, as he kissed Christine's temple, sliding his arms down to embrace her. Holding her in that room…the one that contained so many of his thoughts of her through the years poured out in colored oils on canvas…was both difficult and liberating.

To all others that gazed upon the paintings, they were merely an anonymous girl, in fictitious places. But for he and Christine, they were fragments of a past that they both knew well. He'd captured poignant moments of her life, suspending them in art, freezing the essence of the very events that shaped her. Moments of sorrow, of pride, of love, of whimsy, all woven into the intricate fabric of her days spent on this earth. They were private expressions of love from Erik to Christine…his way of saying… "I know you…I've been here with you….I've watched over you….I understand…" but most importantly, "I love you." Though in truth, he'd never thought she would ever lay eyes upon them. And though they were viewed by many, they would never have betrayed the artist. For none other than Christine would know…that it meant that he had watched over her, had loved her, had cared for the feelings of her heart…all those years.

"This my dear," he said pointing up at the painting where she were a young girl, wreath in hand, snow surrounding her on the ground, "I shall never forget the day. Antoinette had been tending to other ballet mistresses that had come to pay a visit to the Opera Populaire at the start of the holidays…"

Christine turned in his arms looking at him. "I shan't believe I've heard you use Madame Giry's first name before Erik!" She looked up at him quizzically. "Is that…..is that how you address one another in private?"

Erik laughed kissing Christine's ear. "Madame Giry and I have been friends a great long while. To say that we always used proper titles would be untrue. She was rather like a sister to me, and as such, yes, I often addressed her by Antoinette."

Christine smiled at him, kissing his jaw. Of course they had been friends, and as such they would have been on most familiar terms. She blushed, immediately embarrassed at her own folly. "Forgive me my dear for interrupting your descriptions. Though I knew of her name, I'd never once heard it uttered."

Erik smiled at Christine. "Do not worry," he said, running his hand along her back. "Not many have ever been given permission to do so. Even when she was a young woman working in the ranks of the Opera House, she never had want to have anyone call her by name. She preferred miss, or mademoiselle. "

Christine blushed slightly. She'd always known Madame Giry to be rather prim and proper. She'd never given thought that it had gone on so very long! "Do tell me Erik, this day," she pointed up at the picture of the little girl holding the wreath, "where had you been that you'd found opportunity to observe me?"

Erik turned Christine once more in his arms so that they could both gaze upon the painting. "Do you remember the night before…when you'd talked about how you missed your father, and how you were so duly saddened that he'd not have garland nor wreath for Christmas, and how he'd so loved those adornments during advent?"

Christine simply nodded, saying nothing more than, "hmmm, yes."

"That night you cried yourself to sleep as I sang to you 'Silent Night' do you remember it?"

Christine nodded, she remembered it well. "Your voice was reassuring, so tender yet powerful. I felt as if I were in the very presence of God that night Erik."

Erik closed his eyes, placing a delicate kiss on her temple. That night, so many years ago, oh how he'd wished he could reach out and touch her, hold her…for it had truly broken his heart to watch her cry as she did. No mother nor father to cling to for comfort. "How I longed to bring you comfort my love, to bring you peace."

He began rubbing his thumb along her collarbone, his other arm resting around her waist. "That night you struggled with dream after dream, tossing and turning this way and that in your sleep. I watched, just as I always had from the rafters above, humming to you when you woke, reassuring you I was still there for you."

Christine wrapped both her hands around the forearm that he'd extended across her, leaning down to kiss his flesh. "You were so very kind to such a selfish, piteous, little girl that I was."

Erik's eyebrows raised as he looked down at her in such wonder. "Selfish? You my dear were the farthest from selfish of any living soul I'd ever known. Selfish…you knew nothing of being selfish. You were a wonderful young lady, proper and thoughtful. You were the first to offer help to others, the last to leave practice each day, always aiding Madame Giry by collecting prop and costume. No, no, selfish you were not my love. If our daughter is as wonderful as you were my dear, I will be an exceedingly proud father!"

Christine smiled, leaning her head back against Erik's chest, looking up into his eyes. "Our daughter…what a lovely set of words. It is the very longings of my heart that I should bare you a daughter my love. A son as strikingly handsome as his father, a daughter as devoted and talented, or a pair of each one day."

It was all music to Erik's ears. It thrilled him beyond comprehension to think of embracing a wife, a child…. He wrapped his arms tightly about Christine. "Yes one day my dear, but let us first focus on these children. There will be time for more, as many as you like my dear. Once we've resettled into Courtland Manor, and you've given birth, I shall provide for you all of the assistance to have as many children as you like."

Christine, for a brief moment, recalled her day-dream, a pair of governesses chasing their children about…..Meg preparing to marry Raoul, DeChagny and Nadir sipping brandy…Erik reading to their children. "Erik?"

"Yes my love?" He replied, still musing in his mind over thoughts of their children, of having a family to love, to cherish.

"When do you think we might see Meg and Madame Giry?" She said, a bit of nervousness in her question. She'd known he'd made some sort of arrangement or another, she simply did not know how it would be done, or where in fact they were at this moment. To this point nothing of recent events had been spoken of.

"Christine, when first you told me of your want to see Meg, in truth, I did not know if it could be managed. It remains to be seen if it can, but try we shall. I've sent Erphan on with a note to send by messenger to Raoul's house. That is where Madame Giry, Meg, and Nadir have been staying while in Paris. If they are able, and I think that Nadir should have no trouble in making the arrangement, then we shall all meet in the lower levels of the Opera House…in what was once my home."

Christine's eyes grew wide. "But Erik, what of the danger…the dream…what if…" Christine's lips began to tremble, there was so very much she did not know.

"My dearest Christine, I've much to tell you. Crawlings shall not be of any threat to us, nor anyone else, do not worry." He closed his eyes…he'd have to tell her the truth.

"Erik," she paused, "do tell me my dear."

"Crawlings is dead." Erik's heart hang heavily in his chest, she and Nadir would be the only souls who would ever know the truth. He turned her around in his arms, he would tell her face-to-face.

"Dear, dear, Christine, this is most difficult. But you must know the truth, know what has happened, for it will be the last you will hear of the truth of it, for circumstances must allow another version of the story to become the truth in order that all might be protected." Erik had sincere hope that someone would even now be claiming responsibility for the victory.

"I'd learned that Crawlings had gone to DeChagny's house, and so I set upon going there. I feared he'd pursue Meg. In my travel, I met Nadir. However briefly, we had an encounter. It was only then that I found that Crawlings had attempted to claim Raoul's life, and was heading away from there, Nadir assumed back to Paris. He was wild and unwieldy, and Nadir could not estimate if he'd had an unsatisfied blood thirst in his mind."

Christine's eyes grew wide. Erik had met Nadir, but what of Meg and Madame Giry?

"I turned and followed the boy into Paris, with a promise to Nadir that he shan't have any worry, that I would see to it." Erik paused, he would leave out the details that were of little consequence. "It came to pass that he attempted a return to Raoul's, I on his heels. When I arrived Christine, Crawlings was lurking in the shadow. I'd every intention of taking care of the boy, but had hoped to flush him out and dispose of him in the woods, far from the sight of any others."

Christine shuddered. She'd never heard Erik speak of ending a life with such little regard. She would say nothing.

"Christine, I do not know what will be said of the events that took place, I know only that none, save Nadir perhaps, will ever truly know of what happened there."

This was the most difficult bit of the truth, one he'd barely had time to come to grips with himself. "Whilst I waited, trying best to estimate what move he would take, Raoul came out onto the veranda."

Christine stiffened. "Raoul?"

It tugged at his heart to hear that name cross her lips. "Yes Raoul. It was then that I watched Crawlings, and I could see his intentions quite clearly, he'd raised his weapon, he…" Erik could scarcely bring himself to say it.

Christine sensed his hesitation, "Erik, do not tell me that he…" she paused, "Meg will be heartbroken." Her eyes began to fill. Somewhere inside she'd made the split-second association of Raoul and Meg. She shook her head, she'd finally come to terms with it, and now for it to have been ended…the thought was unbearable.

Erik's heart was nearly undone. Christine had not taken the sorrow of Raoul's loss to her own heart for her sake, but for Meg's. Perhaps she had truly released all thought of a life with that boy from her mind. "No my dear, Raoul is not dead, but the Crawlings boy was felled."

Christine looked up into Erik's eyes. "Raoul…he?" She knew well of Raoul's tender feelings regarding life…she could only imagine how even now he would be suffering for it. Her thoughts quickly returned to Erik. "Did anyone see you, was there anyone else out in the yard?"

Erik closed his eyes, the pain of realization in what he'd tell her next resonating in his mind. He'd actually utter what had happened, making it real forever more. "No Christine, Raoul had not even seen the boy, let alone drawn his weapon. And no…there were no others in the yard." He paused, the words struggling to take shape in his mouth.

"Erik……you….you shot Crawlings?" Her mind swirling for that was the only plausible answer. Her heart began to race at the possibility, for surely she knew it would have been something that the Phantom would have wanted…..Raoul dead, though it seemed to serve little purpose now. Erik….the man….her husband…..had defended him!

Erik felt a sob rise in his chest, but he fought it. He began nodding his head. "Yes Christine, yes I did." His eyes searching hers for some answer, some redemption, for something, anything that would provide him with relief from the strange grief that he felt.

Christine slid her hands around his waist, placing her head in the center of his chest, drawing him to her. "Erik….that must have been difficult for you…..it was no secret to me how you felt about him, and after the cemetery…the encounter beneath the Opera House…."

Erik felt rigid as he laid his head to rest on the top of Christine's. "I do not yet know that I fully understand what happened Christine, but I do know that the boy's death will need some explanation, I am trusting that someone, somehow will lay claim to it, though how, or whom, I could not say." He sighed, "I know only that it is safe now. Safe for Madame Giry, Nadir, and Meg to travel to the Opera House, for a meeting this very night. We shall travel there once the sun sets in the sky. We will not return to the winter house as we had planned this night, but stay here with this woman for yet another night. I am certain that she shan't mind the company. That will also give Erphan and the other young man a chance to be of some good use to this woman. It has been a number of months since I've paid her a visit, and I've no doubt she's a project or two she's needing help with, and can put the young men to good use for an evening." He'd taken note that there was a large pile of uncut wood in the room just off the kitchen, perhaps they could start with that.

Christine was nodding, Erik's words brought her both comfort and question as she tried to wrap her mind around the knowledge that Erik had felled the boy, thus saving Raoul's life; and that very evening she would once again be able to see and embrace, Meg and Madame Giry. "I should say she shall be able to make good use of them. Oh Erik, how very grateful I am to you for providing a way for me to see them. Oh how I've missed them so! I simply am elated at the opportunity to share with Meg of our joy my love!" She ran her arms around his waist once more, resting her head on his chest. She shivered, and even she could not say if it were from the lack of being cloaked only in a blanket, or out of excitement of anticipating the impending visit.

Erik looked down at her. "Perhaps we could continue this discussion of the paintings after we are both properly dressed." Erik said, reaching down taking Christine by the hand. "Come, I've something to show you."

Christine smiled at him, "yes, but do not forget the stories you were going to tell me, I shan't have want to miss one word of your explanations of them."

Erik smiled at her as he led her from the room. "How could I forget them my dear, they were part of my life as well as yours. Come let us dress, warm ourselves. I've much to tell you Christine, so very much. After we've dressed, I should like to tell you all that you do not know of these past days, and answer each question you have my love. I've need to tell you, just as I am certain you've need to know."

Christine gave Erik a tender smile. She was grateful for so very many things. Now that he'd told her that he would explain…answer questions…she could breathe a bit more freely. Truly the tension was leaving her with every step that they took.

Erik looked back smiling at her over his shoulder. "I do recall you'd had a particular fancy with the ruby red fabric of one of the frequent guests of the Opera House. I pray that you still have an affinity for it my dear, for there is something rather special waiting for you." He walked her down passed the room they'd been in, down to the woman's workshop. Erik pushed the curtain aside, leading Christine inside.

Her eyes grew wide. There hung a simple yet exceedingly elegant dress, with layer upon layer of the ruby-red fabric she'd seen on the woman's table not hours before. "Erik!" She exclaimed, "it is beautiful."

"Yes, but nearly as beautiful as you my dear." He kissed her hand as he raised it to his lips. "The woman will have it finished for you by the time we leave on the morrow. Now come, I've one more surprise for you." He led her back to the room where they had rested. As they entered he took her to the divan, sitting her down gently. He walked over to the chair, unfolding the item that the woman had deposited there before she'd left with Erphan. He carried it over to Christine, unfolding it as he came near her. "Do stand my dear."

Christine stood, taking in the beauty of the jade dress that Erik had unfolded. It had long dainty sleeves, a fitted bodice, and a full flowing skirt from beneath the bust.

He smiled at her as he reached down sliding his hand beneath her chin, tilting it up to place a delicate kiss on her lips. He laid the dress down on the divan, Christine beholding it with her eyes. It too was simple, yet its luxurious fabric and embellishments made it elegant.

Erik returned with her white slip in hand. He leaned down placing a kiss on her shoulder, pulling the blanket from around her mid section, dropping it to the floor. He quickly glided the silken undergarment over her head. She shivered. He turned and lifted the dress, slipping it over her head, reaching down to lift her abundant curls from beneath it before his hands traveled to her back to draw in the ties that were there.

Christine marveled at how wonderful the fabric felt on her skin, and how perfectly the dress fit her upper frame. She smiled, the dress had been made to fit her now, and no doubt the full skirt would allow for her growing mid section.

"Erik?" Christine said.

He smiled as he finished tying the top of the bow. "Yes Christine, I had to tell her. I had want for you to have something a bit more suitable, more comfortable. Does it please you?"

Christine smoothed her hands over the fabric. "It is exquisite Erik, simply exquisite. Thank you my love." She smiled at him, leaning in to place a peck on his cheek.

Erik's eyes beheld his wife, in a proper dress for her circumstances. A wide smile crossing his face, she was never more beautiful than she was in that dress, in that place. To see her in a dress that suited her for the life that grew within her, his life merged with hers….there was something so wholly amazing about it.

"You my dear, are the most beautiful woman with child that I have ever had privilege to lay eyes on." He walked over placing a delicate kiss on her lips.

She embraced him for but a moment before she pulled away. "Now my dear, let's see to your garments." She glanced here and there.

"My dear, you rest." He led her to the divan. "I shall see to it, and to a pot of tea….and then to that which I must share with you." He looked at her with most serious eyes. "Of what happened in Chausser, of the blood you found on me that night I'd returned, of what happened afterwards, of Nicole, of Sara, of all that you've wish to know." Then he departed.

Christine sat looking at the doorway he'd just passed through. For a second her heart began to ache. Though she knew he'd be back in but a few seconds, she missed him already. He was ready…ready to tell her whatever he needed to.


	173. Invitation

Chapter 173 Invitation 

Author's Notes regarding upcoming hiatus:

Dear Faithfuls: Busy, busy, busy, once again. I wanted to let everyone know that from December 23rd through December 27th, I will be away from my beloved computer. Of course for the holidays, but also to take care of two different friends (one on Friday before Christmas Eve and one the Monday and Tuesday after Christmas) who are going to be having surgery. Alas, I wish I could say that I could get my hands on a computer, but I cannot. I will try, even if I have to hunt down an internet café, to put up a post for Christmas Eve…or…I may post a couple of chapters in advance with a note that says, don't open until Christmas! LOL! I don't think that would stop anyone from reading them though. I just wanted to let everyone know so that they do not think I've abandoned my post. I could never abandon the Phamily, or this story!

Truly, we should probably all be spending some time with our family and friends over the holidays instead of with our computers…even though we do love them so very much! I shall keep you posted, but the plans as they stand right now are no updates from 12/23 through 12/27. Have a wonderful weekend all! And may this season find everyone happy, healthy, and warm!

XXXXX

The boy was huffing as he pushed the horse for all it was worth. Erphan had been explicit in his instruction. "Straight away to DeChagny's then back to the silk merchant's, or the dry goods and sundries purveyor," whichever he and the woman had settled upon next. The horse was well rested from the evening in the warmth of the rooms behind the dressmakers. It wasn't a stable exactly, it really being much more like a home than a place one would rest their horses, he'd wondered, but realized she'd received many customers there, which gave reason to have such a place even for a woman who owned no horse of her own.

The morning was warming, and provided a bit of a challenge on the snow, but he was still traveling at what one could consider a good pace. They'd tried a few places to find a courier for the note that Stephan had written, but they'd quickly abandoned the idea when an hour had passed and they'd found none willing. Erphan had solicited directions for the young man, and though he'd never been on that side of Paris, the directions were quite good, and he was fairly certain he'd find it within the hour.

He marveled at the pristine surroundings on the other side of Paris. Truly he'd been to Paris proper only a handful of times in all of his life, and it had been several years since his last trip. He wished for but a few hours of leisure that he might take in a few of the things he treasured so about the city. Praying in the great cathedral, and if fortune smile upon him, a visit to the coffee house that was so oft frequented by Dickens himself!

He'd become quite enamored with the books he'd been reading, and wished only to ask a few questions of the man. He'd heard word in Chauesser, that there was a particular, rather obscure little curiosity that he was oft found in, and if there were any chance he'd but see the man, he would be delighted beyond reason!

The boy had found himself quite lost in thought, and now had to bring the horse to a slowed pace so as to retrieve the map he'd stowed in his pocket. As the horse came to a halt, he pulled the paper out looking at it. "Yes, the rather large pine, I've just passed it, and now, ahh." He tucked the paper back in his pocket. If the directions were correct, and his bearings true, he'd just have to climb this last hill and it would be off to the left.

XXXX

The carriage house was all abuzz this morning. The mystery of the terror had been witnessed by all who'd come down from every corner of the house and stable to look upon the rigid flesh of the boy who'd carried on the Crawlings legacy. They shook their heads at how pitifully small and young he looked. "So young a boy, with such evil a heart; truly it ran in his blood." Had been one comment repeated over and over. The myth of having the dead in one's carriage house had been broken, none fearing reprisal nor foreboding of wretched things to come, for surely the victory over the wickedness of the Crawlings family had come, and that would be well received in Paris, a hero their master would be indeed!

The carriage master had come out of the stable, stretching. He'd had but a few hours sleep that night, but it would serve him well enough. He'd wish for nothing more now than time for his men to relax, to take in a good meal, and then to spend the afternoon clearing the yard, making way for the inevitable melting of the snow. They'd dig trenches off to the sides of the yard so as to provide drainage for the waters lest they muck up the entire yard, and drown the delicate flower gardens. His head spun to the side as he heard a voice call out to him.

"Good sir? I've come from Paris, a note for a man named Nadir sir, I've come to deliver it to him."

The carriage master nodded to the boy. No doubt it was another message from the undertaker requesting Nadir's presence. So much for the thought of rest for his men, for surely now he'd be preparing the sleigh for yet another trip into the City. "Come, come, your horse should have a bit of a rest, and you look as if you could use a bit of coffee. I'll fetch one of the servants to…"

"No sir, I'm quite afraid my schedule will not permit it. If you would be so kind as to allow me a brief visit with Nadir, I'm to deliver the envelope personally. It is from Monsieur Courtland, and he wishes to have a reply upon my return." The boy stayed on his horse.

One of the men was coming from the carriage house, the carriage master called out to him. "Do go in and retrieve Nadir won't you, and look smart about it. This young man brings word from…" he turned looking at the young man, "where did you say you'd traveled from?"

He looked down recalling Erpahn's words, "share nothing more than absolutely necessary, Monsieur Courtland's privacy is of utmost importance." He stammered, "I've come from Paris just now sir."

"Very well," he turned back to the other man, "tell Nadir he has a message from Monsieur Courtland of Paris, and the boy awaits his reply. Do tell him we can be found in the carriage house when he is ready." The man nodded and headed for the house.

"Now, do dismount, come, have a bit of coffee. We've had a bit of excitement here the night previous. I rather doubt that Nadir should find himself even awake at this hour." The man took the reins of the horse, leading it toward the stable, the young man in tow.

"You see Crawlings, you have heard of him have you not?" The young man nodded. "He'd had it in his mind to kill our master, Raoul DeChagny, and as fate would have it, Raoul took the upper hand! We've been up most of the night with all the goings on, and now, well, we've a hero in our house!"

The boy looked up at him, "Crawlings is now dead sir?" The boy breathed a sigh of relief. Though he'd tried not to think of it as he traveled, it was in the back of his mind.

"Yes quite, and quite at the hands of Raoul!" The carriage master led the young man into the carriage house. He'd see to a bit of hot coffee, and one of the delectable treats that had just been brought from the house proper. Raoul's house was well known for what generous tidings it greeted all visitors, even those viewed as some as mere servants. Raoul had not embraced that notion, for to him a man was a man, and no matter his position, he deserved to be treated with respect, and welcome. This young man would be no different, and would be welcomed and introduced just as all others before him, and those who followed after him would be.

XXXX

There was a knock at the door. Nadir and Madame Giry had finished their coffee, and had decided it would be best if they'd both retire until lunch were readied, neither having slept, with good reason. Madame Giry called out, "do come in." She looked toward Nadir, "I do hope it is not Madeline, thinking that two hours rest would be sufficient!"

Nadir laughed, surely that would be something that Madeline would do.

There was yet another knock. Whomever it was, they would not be entering the quarters without full invitation of an opened door.

Madame Giry was rising, Nadir quickly stood. "You sit my dear, allow me." Nadir strode over to the door.

"Monsieur Nadir, I am most relieved to have found you. I knocked on the door next, but the maid assured me you were paying a visit to Madame Giry."

Nadir looked at the man with a bit of a smirk. It had been a long while since he'd been addressed as Monsieur. "Yes, whatever is it?"

"A young man has just arrived, and I'm to retrieve you for a brief visit. He brings word for you from Monsieur Courtland of Paris, and is even now waiting for you as he is to carry back a reply for the Monsieur." The man was breathing rapidly, having run the distance of the yard, and mounting the stairs in haste.

Madame Giry stood and came along side Nadir at the door. "Did the man seem, well did he seem concerned?" She inquired.

"Madame Giry, I am terribly sorry to have disturbed you." He nodded at her in apology.

She nodded at him in return. "Not at all, do tell me, did the young man seem anxious, worried?"

"No my lady, he did not, though I did not have opportunity to visit with him directly. The carriage master sent me straight away to retrieve Nadir so the young man could be on his way." He turned looking at Nadir hopefully.

"Yes, do go out and assure them that I will be but a moment. I've to dress and I shall be there swiftly." Nadir said, laying his hand on the door.

"Very well sir, I shall." The man turned and was gone.

Nadir turned, looking at Madame Giry. "Now I've no idea what it might be that I find in that note. Something tells me that if Erik is awaiting an answer, he must still be in Paris. If that be the case my dear…let us hope all is well." He looked at Madame Giry scratching at his chin. "I think it prudent that you yourself dress, perhaps assist Meg in dressing. There is much to be considered, but if Erik tarries, there is good reason, of that you can be certain. I'll go to the carriage house, you see to dressing yourself. Upon my return, we shall discuss whatever manner of business I know, and then decide what is to be done."

Madame Giry was nodding. "I shall see to it." Without thinking she'd already begun to remove her robe. In a brief second she had it in her hand, and was reaching for the ribbons of her nightgown.

Nadir averted his eyes. "I shall be back in a few moments my dear lady. Do not worry, our Erik is nothing if not purposeful." He passed through the door between their rooms, closing it behind him.

Madame Giry's mind raced. She was feeling the tired from the lack of sleep of the night previous. She had no idea what the day might produce, or of what word Erik could be waiting for, but she had to agree with Nadir, if Erik waited, he'd have good reason.

Madame Giry turned, there was a gentle knock on the door before it opened.

"Mother?" Meg's voice called out as she entered.

"Meg, I'd thought perhaps you'd still be resting my dear." She called out from behind the dressing screen, trying to hide the obvious anxiousness in her voice.

"Mother, where is everyone? The house is absolutely quiet! I stood by the banister and there is barely a sound coming from the lower floors. Has no one risen for the day?" Meg said with a questioning tone.

Madame Giry came around the side of the dressing screen, moving to kiss Meg's cheeks. "It looks well Meg, your cheek." She said running her hand along her daughter's chin, looking her in the eye.

Meg smiled at her, looking down. "I am happy the stitches are gone, though it feels a bit tender this morning."

Madame Giry led Meg over to the divan. "We should see to getting you dressed my dear." She looked down, she'd rather hoped to be sharing this with Meg under different circumstances, or have Raoul share it himself, but time was of the essence she was sure. "Meg, last night, after you and I retired," she took Meg's hands in hers, "Crawlings was about."

Meg gasped, "whatever for mother, was anyone hurt?"

Madame Giry soothed Meg's hands. "Do not worry Meg, no one in Raoul's household was killed, though the Crawlings boy is dead."

Meg looked down blinking heavily before she returned her mother's gaze. "How did he meet his end mother?"

Madame Giry sighed. She'd no choice but to perpetuate what Nadir had begun. She'd never been dishonest with Meg a day in her life, not once, and now, for the sake of everyone, she'd no choice but to impart that which Nadir would be telling all who had ears to hear. "Raoul…..it was Raoul."

Meg's face went ashen. Surely Raoul had not an encounter with the crazed boy! "Mother, but how, what happened that he'd find himself in such a position?" Meg was already standing. Her mother took her hand tugging at her to sit once more. Meg complied.

"Meg, I do not know of all of the particulars, I know only that he ventured into the yard, Raoul sensed his presence and felled him on the edge by the woods, just beyond where the great fire had been started." Madame Giry looked down, pressing her eyes closed swallowing. "Raoul will be something of a hero in Paris once word of it makes its way there, as it most certainly will very soon."

Meg sat blinking, she'd missed so much in the hours she'd slept.

Madame Giry knew she must tell her further of what was to come. "Meg, you must know that Raoul is resting now." She looked at her daughter, taking her hands into hers once more. "Raoul seems to have had a blow to his head, something caused by a slip on the ice, the jolt of the gun, we aren't just now sure, but he'd a small gash that required some stitching…"

Meg's hand flew over to cover her mouth as she gasped, "no…."

Madame Giry began patting her hand. "I assure you, other than a bit of missing hair, and stiff headache, he shall be fine, the doctor attended to him last evening. He rests even now Meg, the doctor no doubt has checked on him several times. It is best that he rest."

Meg was already tying the ribbons on her robe, making ready to go to him. "Mother, you must excuse me, I've…"

Her mother took her hand once more, leading her to the divan yet again. "Meg, you should know that he is fine. I've more to tell you my dear, do sit won't you."

Meg heard the authoritative tone in her mother's voice and came to rest on the divan next to her. "Mother?"

Madame Giry turned to face Meg. "We've received word from Monsieur Courtland, Nadir is even as we speak retrieving the message from the carriage house. I do not know the nature of the correspondence, but I do know that he is in Paris, and awaiting a reply from Nadir."

Meg's mind began to race. If Erik had seen fit to return to Paris in the light of day, something was wrong, most dreadfully wrong.

Madame Giry continued. "I am afraid my dear, that we may very well have need to travel to Paris this very day, or perhaps only Nadir will be summoned, or perhaps nothing will come of it at all. Whatever the case, Nadir and I felt it best that you and I ready ourselves should we have need to travel today." In the back of Madame Giry's mind was the great fear that something had happened to Christine, that the same fate as had fallen on her mother had somehow fallen on Christine.

Meg's eyes darted back and forth. Her loyalties were truly split. Christine had been her sister, for all practical purposes all of those years. If something had happened to her, she'd have want to be at her side. But Raoul….how could she leave Raoul? "Mother?"

Madame Giry was rising, leading Meg by the hand to the door. "Come, let us get you dressed my dear, it is mid-morning and you should be dressed, no matter what is required of us." Madame Giry opened the door, DeChagny nearly tumbling in. "Good Sir!" She exclaimed as his hand nearly came to rest on her forehead as it was poised to knock on the door.

"Madame Giry, Meg," he nodded to both women. "I trust that you've both rested well. Have either of you been to look in on Raoul?"

Both women shook their heads, they had not.

"I've a note from the physician, the Barron, he's requesting that we allow Raoul to rest this morning. He had a bit of an unsettled night, and as long as he rests, we shan't disturb him."

Meg looked pleadingly at her mother.

"Meg, I know you've want to see him, as I would if I were you, but we must respect the doctor's wishes, for he has nothing but Raoul's best interest in mind."

DeChagny nodded, looking at Meg. "My dear, he is my own flesh and blood son, I'd like nothing more than to visit him now. I received this note from my Barron with my breakfast this morning, so I've no doubt the doctor is tending to him even now, as he is not in the room that was prepared for him. Though it be difficult, I beg of you, let us honor the doctor's request." He looked from Madame Giry to Meg, hoping for some assurances.

Meg blinked, staring at the ground. "Very well. But if you should hear that he stirs, that he looks for…."

DeChagny reached out touching Meg's hand, "do not worry child, if he looks for you, I shall send for you." He smiled at her and then turned and left.

Madame Giry led Meg down to her room, quickly going in. Meg was standing there looking down at her arm. "Meg, whatever is it my dear, I am certain that the doctor is only concerned for Raoul's recovery…"

Meg was shaking her head. "No, I understand that perfectly…" she looked up her mother, "he touched my hand mother, called me dear…" her lips began to tremble.

Madame Giry came over to embrace her daughter. Meg had no doubt feared DeChagny's lack of acceptance of her. "My dear sweet Meg, had you any doubt that your gentle demeanor, your sweet smile shan't win over a man….even one as cold as he?" She leaned back looking at Meg, tapping the end of her nose gently. She embraced her once more, bringing her head to rest on her shoulder, rubbing her back. "Dear Meg, do not think for one moment that you are not worthy of his approval, for you are far more refined and precious than any of those young ladies of society. Raoul knows this in his heart, and truly, he is the only one you've need to please."

Meg closed her eyes, welcoming both her mother's kind words and warm embrace. She always had been able to allay her worries. "Thank you mother." She nestled her head in as she had done thousands of times as a child, but now as a woman, it was different, yet the reassurance was the same.

XXXX

Nadir was dressed and down the stairs, moving at a pace that even surprised him. He was more than anxious to discover the contents of the note, and to see what young man brought it to him. Erik would not have entrusted just any courier with the task.

The carriage master had settled in with the young man at a table near the window. He'd sensed the boy's anticipation, and had hardly been able to convince him to take the coffee and pastry. "Monsieur Courtland….this is not a name that I am familiar with young man. Pray do tell, in what section of Paris does he reside?"

The young man began to fidget. "Tell them nothing, share no more than you must." Erphan's words rung so loudly in his head that it nearly took over his very ability to think. He stared blankly out the window.

The carriage master looked down, a bit of disgust, though he realized the young man was quite preoccupied with his assignment. "Young man!"

He startled, looking back at the carriage master, "my apologies. I must confess I am rather eager to have this part of my day settled, so that we are able to complete the many things that we've need to do." The boy flashed a rather dutiful smile at the him.

"This Monsieur, he keeps you rather busy?" The man said, making nothing more than idle conversation now.

"Yes….yes sir, quite." The boy rose to his feet as he saw Nadir emerge from the house. "I thank you sincerely for your generosity sir. I see that Nadir approaches…" the young man was already standing, putting on his hat and gloves. He turned to the man, "thank you for your hospitality sir, I must go now." The boy turned and made his way through the door to the outside.

The man shook his head as he watched the boy cross the snow toward Nadir, waving madly. He looked down, he'd not even touched so much as a morsel on the plate, nor did it seem that he'd even taken a single sip from his cup. The young man took his assignment seriously enough…he'd give him that much.

Nadir's eyes lit up as he saw John Paul coming toward him. A bit of relief rushing over him, a familiar face, someone of whom he could ask questions, not a random courier with no knowledge of the sender of the message. "John Paul!" Nadir called out to him.

The young man nearly began to run before the pair met in the center of the courtyard. "Nadir, it is wonderful to see you. We have missed your colorful stories sir!" He said as he slipped his hand beneath his cloak, retrieving a small ivory envelope, handing it to Nadir.

"And I have missed all of you. I trust all is well?" Nadir said, searching the boys face for any evidence that he'd known something of the passed days.

"All is well, though our schedule has been rather abrupt as of late, the weather, the unexpected trip to Paris, the master's trip into Chauesser. It has been very unusual, though I dare say it has been for everyone due to this storm!" The boy began to laugh as he and Nadir began to walk over to the area where the last remnants of the fire still smoldered. There the ground was visible now, and a bit of warmth still eminated from the piles of ash. The boy looked rather quizzically at Nadir.

"Wolves, there were wolves in the woods last night, they'd set their sights on a group of dogs that belong to the household." Nadir said as he slid his thumb beneath the seal on the envelope. It was a seal he'd not recognized, but knew it was from Erik.

The boy nodded at Nadir, walking a dozen paces or so away to afford Nadir a bit of privacy as he read. The words somehow transforming in his mind as he could hear Erik's voice.

Nadir:

Good friend it has been a long while since you and I have had a proper visit sir. The death of our mutual friend has brought us to the City in hopes that we might pay our last respects at her grave. My wife needed a bit of a journey, she's grown rather tired of being cooped up in our house for months now, considering her current condition. She's been plagued by all manner of unusual dreams that have troubled her. Though she feels well enough for the journey, as have I, we do fear that this may be our last visit to Paris. We will be but a few more hours, and if you and Madame Giry, and her daughter Meg, are so inclined, we should like to have a brief visit before we return home to Courtland Manor. My wife has much to share with young Meg, and would very much like to see Madame Giry.

Though there is much to be thankful for, I must share with you that the elder woman I'd most recently befriended fell during the storm and could not be saved. Her daughter and grand daughter grieve for her desperately. My grief is only in never having been able to know the woman as well as I hoped that I might, nor to have had opportunity to introduce the two of you. All else is well dear friend.

If the three of you are so inclined to join us, do send word with the man who delivered the message to you sir. Also send word of how everyone is doing, as well as your kind host. Tell Madame Giry that I should very much like to take her to her favorite place for eating pudding on a Sunday afternoon, she shall know the place well, though few ever frequent it. It is a place that has served the test of time, even to this very moment! If a visit is not possible dear friend, do plan to send word in several weeks time. Perhaps Meg and Madame Giry would be up to making a visit at Courtland Manor before she resumes her duties at the Opera House.

In my fondest affections, Stephan

Nadir breathed a sigh of relief. He smiled at the young man. "You've done well," he said motioning for him to join him. "Now sir, I know you must prefer to be on your way to return word to Paris. But I must beg of you for an indulgence of a half-hours time before I can give you my full reply." He patted the man on his shoulder. "Young man, do tell me, is Monsieur Courtland well?"

"Yes sir, quite. He and his wife were resting when we left the seamstress shop."

"The seamstress shop?" Nadir was entirely perplexed. He'd thought that Erik would have chosen to stay at the Opera House, but then again, how would he have explained that to his carriage men. Nadir shook his head.

"Yes sir, she's a rather interesting woman. I've never met a woman who was blind that could sew before. It is a wonder that anything turns out to be a decent garment. She prepared a rather nice smoking jacket for Stephan."

Nadir was scratching his head. This was no doubt a woman that Erik knew well. "So is that where they have made accommodations….at the home of this friend?" Nadir inquired.

"Yes sir, that is where the four of us slept last evening." The young man was starting to cup his hands breathing into them. It was a bit colder outside when one was standing still.

"The four of you? Did you have a traveling companion young man?" Nadir said.

"Most certainly. I was to provide assistance to Erphan, whatever he'd have need for. That is why I am here even now and not a normal courier, as we could find none that were willing to travel outside of Paris, not with Crawlings about. I understand though sir, that he's no longer a worry for the travelers. The carriage master informed me that Raoul shot him dead this very day! The whole City of Paris, and even Chauesser will rejoice at the news!"

Nadir's lip quivered just slightly into the faintest of smiles; the plan had already been set in motion. He patted the young man once more on the shoulder. "We must come to an understanding you and I, about Monsieur Courtland. He's no need for anyone to know of his whereabouts, or any other private detail, including the name of the city within which he lives. He's had a great many enemies during his lifetime. If someone does ask, tell them he's been around the world, and finally settled in a village not long from Paris, but nothing more. Is that understood?"

The young man nodded, taking note of the serious tone of Nadir's voice. "It shall be as you've suggested. I shall return to the carriage house, have the coffee and pastry that's been offered me and await your reply."

Nadir nodded. "It is good to see you my friend. Very good indeed. You shall grow up to be a fine young example." Nadir turned making his way toward the house; the young man toward the stables.

XXXX

Christine sat waiting impatiently in the room. Finally after a few minutes she sighed and leaned back resting against the side of the divan. A soft blushing smile crossed her face as she could hear a melody first caress her ears. They were alone, utterly alone, and from a distance, she could hear Erik singing. She closed her eyes, the small childish smile now growing into one of undulating adoration at the sound of his voice raised in song. It had kept her company so many night, so many days. It had been the continuation of the art that her father had begun with her some years before. Slowly Erik had given name and order to each part of music. Of the meaning of quarter note, half note, whole note, of bars scores, and scales, of the terms phalsetto, acapela, cadence, concerto, tempo, rhythm, verse, chorus, refrain. Of the titles soprano, tenor, alto, bass, baritone, conductor. He had walked her through a land she'd known in her life but never knew names for. It was akin to being taken through a flower garden you'd visited every day and having someone identify for you the colors you'd seen but could never name. The yellow of daffodils, the pink of tulips, the blue of morning glories, the green of ivy, the red of roses. He'd given her the points of reference with which her knowledge grew by leaps and bounds, and allowed her to converse with others about music in a way that was seemingly far beyond her years. She smiled, his voice was compelling, soothing, intriguing. Somehow she knew she would never tire of it, it was food for the very soul of her. Her head turned just slightly when she heard a familiar melody, but far different words, and a bit different tempo. She opened her eyes, staring at the fire, listening intently. In the distance she heard…

"No one would listen, no one but her heard as the outcast hears….she saw my lonliness…a voice through the gloom seemed to cry I hear you….."

A tear ran down Christine's cheek…he had known she loved him….even then.


	174. Come Let Me Tell You

Chapter 174 Come, Let Me Tell You 

Erik returned to Christine. He was fully dressed in white shirt, black trousers, and the black velveteen smoking jacket the woman had made for him. He held in his hands a tray with smoked salmon, potted cheeses, crusted bread, and a pot of tea. On the tray were some curious chocolates Christine had never seen before. She was fixated on them as Erik sat the tray down on the table in front of the divan. In part because she was naturally drawn to sweets as of late, and in part because of the cut lead crystal dish in which they were so beautifully presented. It had glinted in the light of the fire when first he entered the room.

Erik smiled at Christine, noticing where her eyes had rested. "I see something has drawn your interest my dear! Here, you must try one. Life is so very short, perhaps a bit of dessert before the sustenance is wise." He smiled as he lifted one of the delicate flower shaped chocolates, taking it to the anticipation of Christine's lips. Pleasing her had become a chief joy in his life.

She quite nearly had it in her mouth when Erik pulled it away playfully placing a kiss on her lips instead. She pouted a bit, but quickly recovered, teasing, "it is true your kisses are sweeter than honey my love, but one cannot live with honey alone!" She laughed as she watched with what glee he tormented her until finally he gave in.

He brought it close to her, she opening her lips. "No Christine, close your eyes, take in the fragrance. What do you sense?"

She closed her eyes and her mouth, focusing only on what her nose beheld as she slowly inhaled and the exhaled. She'd done so several times before she replied, "is that violet?"

Erik grinned; indeed she was as sensitive to it as he. Christine did not open her eyes, but continued the process several more times before she replied, "I smell the cocoa, and can nearly taste the sweetness of the cream and sugar on my tongue, but that hint, I'm most certain, yes, most certain it is violet." She opened her eyes to see Erik smiling at her, touching the candy to her lips, sliding it in on her tongue.

He took one for himself; they could enjoy the partaking of this together. It was a pleasure to the palate. Both sweet and fragrant. Truly a heady gratification.

"Wherever does she find them?" Christine asked, realizing they'd not have come from the basket that Misty had packed for them.

"The woman is kind enough to keep them here for me. It is the only place in all of the places I've been that has them. A tiny chocolate shop near one of the merchants she frequents. One day the woman from the shop had come over when she was purchasing fabrics. She'd intended to thank the woman with a box of chocolates for a garment she'd made for the woman's daughter. She'd of course taken it rather graciously, never mind the fact she'd never grown a taste for chocolate! She much prefers the sweetness of berries and the like. As it happened, it was a time I'd come to pay her a visit."

Erik was searching his mind, "I believe it was when I was painting in the parlor, the rather drab gray walls needed a bit of cheering as I recall. She'd come home with a number of things, handing me the box saying if I'd like chocolates that I was welcome to them. Well, as it so happened, I'd grown rather fond of chocolate having spent many Sundays with Antoinette when we were younger, eating the chocolate potted pudding she would bring me that had been the treat for Sunday dinner in the dormitories."

Erik smiled, it had been the second time that day that he'd thought of the many occasions he and Antoinette had shared special treats together on Sundays. It was the only day she was able to bring entire hot meals to him in the cellars without being noticed. The remainder of the days she'd s managed whatever she could to bring for him to eat. But Sundays, yes, they were different indeed.

"When she'd abandoned the box on the table I'd looked at it with interest. Surely something that had come in such an embellished container must be something special…and I was right. I've never found anything quite like it. How precisely it is done I do not know, nor do I care to know, for that would likely spoil my enjoyment of it!"

Christine laughed as she smoothed the last of it over her tongue. "Pray do tell this is not the same box!"

Erik smiled at her, "no, but ever since she took notice that I'd nearly emptied the container in one afternoon, she's managed to keep a box. How it is mysteriously refilled each time I return, she's not shared with me!" Erik poured each of them a cup of hot tea.

A silence fell once more between them as they sat sipping their tea. Erik sat his cup down, having half consumed it. He looked Christine in the eye, taking her cup from her sitting it on the tray. He turned to look into her eyes, taking her hands up into his. He inhaled closing his eyes, and exhaled. He inhaled, slowly opening his eyes to the welcoming of Christine's smile. The intensity in his eyes was only paralleled by the compassion and sincerity that Christine saw in his eyes. "Are you ready Christine?"

She nodded. She'd listen intently and only ask questions when she must. It was obvious to her that it had taken him great courage to broach the subject…she'd not be making him wish he'd never mentioned it.

He squeezed her hands as he began. "The blood you discovered on me when I'd returned from Chauesser….it was the very reason my return to you had been delayed." He paused, looking deeply into Christine's eyes. It pained him to watch as the fear grew in those innocent pools. He knew she knew nothing of his past, and could only imagine what she might be thinking even now. The truth was, that she would never be able to imagine what tragedy had fallen from his own hands throughout his life, and even the worst she could conjure up would pale in comparison to the truth she would never know.

"The old woman, the one who had pursued us that night we dined in Chauesser…." He sighed, looking down at their intertwined hands. Christine was running her thumbs reassuringly along the back of his hand.

"The man that had come on the sled shared with me the reason for his travels to the winter house. The old woman, you remember her?"

Christine nodded, her steady compassionate gaze encouraging him to go on.

"I'd returned to the City to help find her. She'd gone out, been lost during the worst of the storm. He'd traveled the distance from the City to be certain she'd not ventured to find us." Erik's eyebrows raised. He'd never been able to find what it was that had fascinated her so about him. Now he would never know.

"Indeed I did find her, but alas it was of no use. She lived but a few hours more. Barely clinging to life for but a brief time. Long enough to speak to her daughter, to her granddaughter. You do remember the young woman, she is the one whose acquaintance we'd made. You recall Nicole do you not?"

Christine simply nodded, "yes" though she wondered why he would ask such questions. How would she forget when there had been numerous encounters? She stayed silent; she'd not interrupt.

"You see my dear, there are so many things that happened in that City that made it both difficult to leave, and difficult to stay." He looked down from her gaze for a brief second before his eyes returned to hers. "Though my actions were selfish to be sure, they mistakenly believe me to be a hero for finding her, bringing her back to her family." Erik cringed, he'd still no use for that word hero; least of all applied to his own reference. "It is not true, a hero I am not. I did only what any decent man ought."

Christine wanted desperately to tell Erik he was nothing like most ordinary men. Extraordinary would only begin to describe how very wonderful he really was.

Erik looked down closing his eyes, swallowing. In that moment he felt entirely bare in front of this woman he called his wife. "Christine…it was truly difficult, yet a mystery to me to watch her leave this world in the arms of those that loved her."

He could not look up into her eyes, for he knew he'd come undone. He'd finish before he beheld her. "The women…they held her…prayed with her…for her….and then she was gone." His eyes misting over as he slowly blinked, a single tear glistening on the edge of his lower lid, precariously perched there before he exhaled and it teetered and ran down his quivering cheek. "It was the most peaceful passing I've ever had privilege to witness."

He looked up at her, his eyes pleading and broken. "It was as if I watched God walk into the room, lovingly take the woman's hand and lead her to the hereafter." He stared into Christine's eyes. Their stare exchanging thoughts, acknowledgement, comfort. Erik turned his eyes away, pressing them closed. He could sense Christine's tender compassion though all he could hear was the gentle rhythm of her breathing. He would continue.

"I've seen many deaths in my life Christine. Most were not favorable, nor well greeted…and none…not one, was peaceful nor lacking in some nefarious manner. That day….I'd witnessed humanity…the very essence of humanity before my eyes. There are so many in this world who have every fine ornament or possession that their wealth or position will afford them, yet they lack the grace, the peace, that I saw before me that day."

He sighed, his eyebrows raising, and his glance falling to the ground. "It is of little matter now. The woman is dead, and likely is being readied to be buried now."

Christine turned her head down to the side, looking up into Erik's down-turned face. "Erik?" He looked at her. "What of her daughter, her granddaughter?"

Erik shook his head, raising his eyebrows once more. "They'd no funds to care for the woman's final expenses. I have seen to taking care of them on their behalf. Surely though they be proud women, and I can assure you that they are, they shan't be able to refuse this for their own sakes." He looked over to the side, glancing at an undiscript place on the floor. He'd no idea what would be next for them.

"The night grew late, and before long the morning had arrived, and with it the opportunity to return to you grew. As I was preparing to depart I did have chance to speak with Nicole. It was while I waited that I'd overheard talk of some celebration…the tenth of April…and of the honors bestowed by this Lady C that everyone speaks of." An irritation grew in Erik's voice, Christine sensing the change in his demeanor.

"It was then that I'd heard mention of honor….of heroism for acts of the night previous, and within me grew such an fury that in my haste, a great lashing of words spewed forth in the presence of a crowd." Erik looked down. "Let us say that this was not well received."

Erik glanced up at her. "In a few minutes I'd delivered my acerbic diatribe, likely garnering a loathing response from some, aghast from others. Not one word did I speak that I did not mean, though my method of delivery was certainly lacking in eloquence."

Christine had want to ask him what he'd said, who had been there, what he'd received in response, but she remained silent.

"There was a sadness within me my love…it grew to a rage…" Erik looked up at her, in his eyes was a seething disdain. "It has me sickened, even to this very moment that none, not one of the able-bodied men had gone to search for the woman, with the exception of the man who'd drawn the sled. They were content and warm, as fat rats sitting in a nest nary a selfless intent or thought within them! Feckless nebbishes the lot of them! They pretend to be civilized gentry and all the while a woman lay dying in the freezing cold as they supped from their warm cups sitting by the fire chatting of pleasantries."

Erik's voice boomed, then quickly retreated as he saw the fear in Christine's eyes. He'd seen that look once before in her eyes, in response to his voice. It had been the night that she'd first unmasked him and in his horror he'd lashed out at her. He closed his eyes. "I am sorry my love, forgive my harsh manner…."

Christine slid her hand over his. "Do not worry Erik, I am listening. Your revulsion for those who do not act is only part of what makes you nobel my love."

Erik's eyes softened. Christine was wise beyond her years. She knew the very words he needed to soothe his roused anger.

"The woman…she was lonely and lost, poor dear soul. She muttered about a boy, though Nicole assured me there was no boy. She'd been a governess in Chausser before she was betrothed and married. The story of a boy was a mystery to all who knew her for they'd never seen her with a boy. Then one day, she disappeared from the City, only to come back years after her own husband had passed."

Erik looked at Christine. "Whatever had troubled the woman so, no one knows for sure." Erik sat up, his eyes growing wide, he let go of Christine's hands. "The books!" He began pacing…he'd promised the woman…how could he have been so very careless!

Christine rose, going to him, taking his hand, turning him to face her, reaching up to stroke his cheeks. "What books my love?" She smiled at him leading him back to the divan.

Erik began to think quickly. He knew nothing of the contents of the books, only that he'd promised the woman that he would take them, read them…and he was nothing if not a man of his word. He recalled her words…."We lived here…the boy…your boy…", "take the books, they'll tell you of him….", "start with the red one. Give them to no one, only you will understand….promise me." He closed his eyes, his own vow floating through his mind, "I so swear." He tried to calm himself. He would see to retrieving them, if they'd not been discovered and disposed of.

He rejoined Christine sitting down once more. "Something I'd promised to do for her…it is of no matter right now Christine." He looked up at her, a slight smile to reassure he was ready to continue.

"I'd found her in an attic, a quite obscure place to be certain…" Erik said.

Christine interrupted, "an attic?" She felt a bit faint.

Erik looked at her curiously, "yes, it was an attic with.." he stopped, Christine's face had gone pale. "Christine?" He took her hands into his.

"Was the attic…did it have exposed beams….old trunks scattered here and there…did you find her under a rather thick layer of blankets?" Christine's heart had begun to race. If he confirmed that it had been so….then her dream…the flash she'd had that day he'd been in Chauesser…it had been true.

"Christine, yes, but how did you…." Erik looked into Christine's eyes, he saw the fear that grew increasingly in them. He pulled her into an embrace; in an instant he knew. "Christine…it is a gift…though it likely feels like such a burden…you've no control over it my dear…learn only not to fear it…..but to face it." He kissed her cheek tenderly, and then her brow, leaning his forehead against hers. "It shall take time my love, but I will help you."

Christine looked into his reassuring eyes. Oh how she wanted to believe that his words were true, but even she knew he'd no control over her fate.

Christine was vastly aware that she'd change his thoughts entirely by posing the question, but it burned within her…if that vision had been accurate…what of the one of Meg and Nadir?

"Erik, my dear Erik…indeed I did have a vision of the woman, in an attic…covered in horse blankets, heavy exposed beams overhead, trunks strewn about…"

Erik's mind began to grasp what it was that Christine was wrestling with. "Mon cheri…"

"Erik, if that vision…that brief thought had been true…" she swallowed, looking up into his eyes, then leaning into the security of his arms. Erik embraced her. "What of Nadir, of Meg….how is it that…"

Erik kissed her temple, resting his chin along side her cheek. "My love, my dear, dear Christine. I'd traveled this very day to the Opera House…though I found things in disarray, there was no trace that any had been there even in recent weeks."

Christine breathed a sigh of relief. "How is it then that you…"

"I know not what the circumstances were that may have led to the dream my love. I know only with the boy dead, he's no threat to them now, nor ever again. I'd stayed several hours in the Opera House, setting a few things in order. When none came, I ventured out. It was then that I'd decided to return to you, assured it had been merely a dream. On the way back to you, I went to LeMortem to visit Perdue."

Christine gasped, a chill running up her spine. Though she knew Erik would not have fear of it, the legends she'd heard of the street still struck fear in her heart. She sat back, surely he'd gone to see about Sara.

"Upon inquiry it was then that I'd found that Nadir had been there, as well as two others on his behalf. Perdue allowed me to read the post which Nadir had sent to him via an employee of the Opera House. Nadir had been in the City and had returned to DeChagny's on urgent business. I decided I might find Nadir and warn him of what you'd seen, lest he venture there in the morning which, per his note, were his intentions. It was not long and I'd found my horse…you remember her…she was the one that you rode the first night you came to me." Erik was looking at her.

Christine remembered it well. "A black beauty, strong but gentle."

Erik nodded, "yes, yes…and I found myself on the way to Raoul's…."

Christine's eyes grew wide. For the next hour she was utterly transfixed on Erik's every word.

Before either of them knew it, the sandwiches had been eaten, the pot of tea had been drunk, and Christine was once again resting in Erik's arms. He glanced at his pocket watch, he'd want to not lose track of the day! It had been over two hours since he'd brought back the tea. Surely they would be returning soon.

Christine inhaled, looking up into Erik's eyes. There was something relieved in his glance, and she felt it too. He'd been open with her, in a way she'd not felt before, and it gave both of them comfort. "What will you do Erik…if no messenger comes, baring news of Nadir's intentions?"

Erik blinked, he'd not even considered that possibility. He wondered too what Erphan would have told the person who'd made delivery of the note. He'd not given the young man instruction as to where to deliver the reply. He slid back down. If there was one thing that he could be certain of, Nadir would find a way to reply, and likely it would come to the Opera House, barring all other possibilities.

"When they return, and the cloak of night has settled once more upon the City Christine, we shall venture to the Opera House. I've no doubt that word will come, if not the arrival of Nadir, Madame Giry, and Meg themselves."

Christine wiggled in his arms in eagerness. "Oh Erik, I cannot tell you my love how the very thought of embracing them again tickles at my heart! I feel as if I've alighted on the wings of a butterfly and am carried off to a land where all things are possible!"

Erik smiled, pulling Christine even closer, placing a delicate kiss once more on her forehead. "It will do well for you to see them again Christine." He slid his index finger beneath her chin, lifting it so as to gaze into her eyes. "You've intention to share with Meg do you not…of your being with child?"

Christine was blushing, her eyes aglitter with anticipation. "That is the very first I'll have want to share…" she hesitated, "unless you are not ready…" her heart sinking, she'd not considered that he might not want it known.

"Why yes of course my love…yes of course…" he ran his arms around her, pulling her into a warm embrace before leaning back out to look reassuringly into her eyes. "If it were within my power, and I'd not worry for discovery, I'd be at the very rooftops of Paris even now shouting at the top of my lungs of the joy that is bursting in my soul because of this very thing Christine!" He smiled at her. "Next to taking you as my wife, it is the greatest joy I've ever known!" He embraced her once more, holding her tenderly.

Christine reveled in his joy. He'd been careful to put her first once more…his words "next to taking you as my wife" …were a sweet reminder to her that he loved her first and foremost. Somehow she doubted she would ever suffer the feeling of neglect that she'd heard so many wives speak of in the first year after their marriage. She smiled, she shouldn't be surprised…he was like no other man she'd ever known…or heard tale of.

"We should ready ourselves my dear. Ready for our departure when they…" Christine stopped. Erik was looking at her most seriously. A deep thoughtful serious.

He looked at his pocket watch. They'd been gone now but four hours. Truly they would soon return, but even then, it would be but mid-day, and far too early to venture out into the streets of Paris as they were now. "Come, let us go back…"

Christine rose, her hand in Erik's. "To the parlor?" she said looking hopefully into his eyes.

He looked back over his shoulder as he pushed the curtain aside. "Yes, the parlor. We've a few more painting to cover my dear, and I've no intention of leaving the room until you are fully satisfied. They tell the story of the woman I am privileged to know, whose love I bask in each day, and arms I rest in each night."

He lifted her hand as he led her down the hall. A flash of the night he'd first led her down that candlelit corridor to his home in the deep recesses of the Opera House running passed his eyes. The music began to rage once more in his mind. Then, he'd led an innocent girl in awe of what she beheld, a specter come to life, embodied in flesh. Now he led his wife, his lover, his friend, back to walls filled with memories; to a place where the two could tenderly share the smattering of years the paintings portrayed.


	175. The Note

Chapter 175 The Note

Nadir made his way swiftly up the stairs; the note from Erik tucked deep within his pocket. The task that lay ahead of him shan't be an easy one. He would need to visit with the doctor, making certain that all was well with Raoul. Then he'd have the challenge of convincing Meg to leave his side if she were awake and aware of all that had transpired. In fact Nadir shan't be certain that she'd not be there even now attending to him.

Then, to devise a plausible reason to trouble Raoul's staff into carrying them into the City, that was yet another matter. Perhaps under the auspices of meeting Stephan and Elizabeth before they left Paris. There was much to be done, and the exact order had to be perfect if he was to have any success at all. If there was any hesitancy, or uncertainty in his voice, it would be sensed and questioned. No he was to be a man determined and fixed upon taking the women to Paris to meet with their relatives. He knew DeChagny was not all that familiar with his association with Madame Giry, but he'd not pushed to know more than what had been offered.

He was out of breath as he reached Madame Giry's door. He had gently knocked several times to no avail. He turned and was walking to his own room, when he heard the door on the other end of the hall open. Glancing up he saw the doctor stretching his legs, bending this way and that. He glanced back toward his own door, and made his way down to the doctor. He'd have had to check in with him in a short while, so he'd best take this opportunity whilst it seemed ripe.

"Barron.."

The doctor looked up, rubbing at his eyes, and replacing his spectacles. "Nadir, friend, what a sight for sore eyes! Do tell me, does the remainder of the house still slumber?" Nadir was shaking his head as he walked to the doctor, hand outstretched taking in his in proper greeting.

"No, though they do remain quiet out of respect for what happened last evening, and for Raoul's sake no doubt." Nadir scratched at his chin. He needed to be brief, but had no want to see rude or ill-attentive. "How is the young master?" Nadir asked, well aware the words of familiarity would aide in the doctor's willingness to trust him.

"In truth Nadir, he's not stirred, not so much as to use the facilities, nor even change position. Whilst it is good for healing, I dare say he will be rather stiff when he does rise!" The doctor looked at Nadir who was nodding in agreement. "Not normally so quiet sir…is there something playing to your distraction?"

Nadir glanced up, "indeed, there is yes. I've need to go into Paris this afternoon. We've received a messenger from Paris bearing a note from Stephan and Elizabeth Courtland. It It seems that Madame Giry and Meg's relatives have come to Paris, to what end I am uncertain as the post did not make mention of it. They are normally very cautious travelers, which is what startles me. If they've sent post that they'd have good reason for it. They've traveled to the City, and should very much like for us to dine with them this very evening, I feel most obligated to comply, return to their home this very night…before it warms sufficiently to make their sleigh of little real use to them." Nadir said, trying to think quickly on his feet. "I do not know what precisely brought them to Paris after such a storm, but I suppose that is not my concern. I only wonder how Meg will receive the news. No doubt she'll not have want to leave Raoul's side." Nadir was glancing down at the ground then up at the doctor.

"That is all very opportune, as you see I sent word to his father this very morning requesting that all consideration of visits should be revoked in favor of Raoul's rest and recuperation. Nadir, Raoul needs rest now more than anything. I plan to sit at his side until he awakes, and then he and I shall have a long chat before I'd feel good about allowing him visitors. So, if you've some way of keeping Meg occupied, it would be all the better for the both of them!"

Nadir was relieved. With that said by the physician, an invitation that seemed fitting to go to Paris, and a courier still awaiting a reply, all should be in place for a visit to the City. He was as pleased as he could be, it seemed fate was smiling on him once again…and he was very thankful.

"Barron, I am certain that this news will be met with protestations to be sure, for Meg will not want to leave his side, not now. However, at your behest that Raoul not receive visitors, I cannot see that she shan't be willing to allow him to rest. I shall speak with she and her mother this very hour." Nadir turned to depart, paused, and turned back to the Barron. "If she were to go in, just to see him as he slumbers….if she promises not to wake him…"

The Barron was smiling, surely even he understood the tender heart of a young girl such as Meg and her desire just to lay eyes upon him, to reassure herself that he is well. He nodded, "I will allow it, but do remind her to be brief…and silent." He'd not have anyone interrupting Raoul's healing, even in the name of love.

Nadir nodded and departed. He would dress more properly for traveling, venture down to Meg's room, for he was certain that is where he would find the pair of them, and then be on his way once again to the carriage house. The trip into Paris would be underway within an hour. He glanced at his pocket watch. It was nearly twelve o'clock. He would have to hurry.

XXX

Nicole and her mother sat quietly in the room by the warmth of the fire. The doctor had gone on to tend to several others. There was a sense of numbness that covered them both. There was the death of Victoria, the knowledge of the waning health of Nicole's mother, the sense of excitement for the possibilities of the new friendship with this young doctor….all so very much swirling about them. Somehow when all things became so heightened, when the senses were overwhelmed with exhilaration and grief…the mind could not possibly handle all that was to come…and simply slowed like the air being let out of a billow. Numb was good; it was like ether for the soul.

"We should dress, be on our way mother." Nicole looked at the woman who sat across from her. Her face was gray and tired. Each crevasse and wrinkle seeming somehow more pronounced than it had in all the days previous. Her brow was furrowed, her lips pursed. Yet through that seemingly stony, stoic exterior, her eyes were alight. Nicole knew that her mother was trying desperately to make sense of all that a few days time had produced.

"Child, I greet this day with a heavy heart." She looked at Nicole, reaching out to take her hand. "It is, yes, the loss of my own mother that saddens me…." She said as her lips began to quiver, "but what weighs heavier on me still, is the thought of having left you in such a state as this. I am sorry my dear, sorry for…"

Nicole embraced her mother, pulling her head to her shoulder as the woman began to weep. Nicole's hand rose to brush the tears from her own cheek. "Mother, do not worry for me. Life is a mystery, and each day it reveals but a bit more of itself. We can neither alter what is behind us, nor predict what is yet in front of us, we can only behold the moment we are in."

Her mother grabbed Nicole's hand, squeezing it with a grip so tight Nicole nearly thought her fingers would snap like the dry, sapless branches of a tree in winter.

"Nicole, my dear, sweet daughter. How very fortunate I am to have such a devoted child." Looking out through her bleary eyes, she wanted only to say her piece but once. For she knew she would not find courage, nor would Nicole permit it to ever be spoken of again. "Nicole, my heart grieves for the thought that I'd brought you this far away, so far away from the life that had been laid out for you. I've oft thought of the marriage and family you would likely have even now had I not brought you here." She glanced at Nicole. A knowing glance that she would not tolerate being interrupted. "Nicole the burden of caring for my mother was mine and mine alone, and it was neither fair nor wise for me to have insisted those years ago that you come to care for her."

Nicole was shaking her head, but quickly relented. It was the pity in her mother's eyes, a soul crying to be heard, unburdened of something that had brought it such great torment. How could she deny her mother such release? She could not.

"When we received word from John Paul's grandfather that Victoria was not well, and that she needed attending to, my loyalties at once were divided. My loyalties Nicole, not yours. I knew your father was not well, and was not long for this world. In my selfishness to be with the man whom I'd grown to love so dearly, I thought only of myself. Had he been well enough to accompany us, that would have been favorable…but he was not….so I sent you off to Chauesser in my stead." Her eyes brimmed and overflowed, hot, repentant, tears. "I knew how you loved your father and how his affections for you swelled within him," she paused as the memories flooded over as a mighty river, "you were his pride and joy." She looked up at Nicole, oh how she had loved them both. "It is my great regret Nicole that I did not leave you with your father, and attend to my mother. I could have insisted that I bring her back with me, I could have…"

Nicole took up her mother's hands saying, "mother, could have yes, but why do you torture yourself so with what cannot be changed? You loved him mother, you were joined with him and body and spirit. Does it not say that a man and woman shall leave their father and mother, and cleave to one another, and the two shall become one? Hmmm?"

Nicole's mother nodded in agreement. She hated it when Nicole quoted from the good book, there was no way to argue with the rationale of God.

"Mother, your duty was to father. It was most unfortunate that their health waned at moments that put your heart and mind in a state that caused you such strife." She lifted her mother's down-turned head with her forefinger. "Mother, had you gone to be with your mother, and father would have died without you, your regrets would be no less than the throws of that which you are in even now, nay, I think they'd be all the greater for it. You did only what you could, and that is all that can be expected of anyone. Regret will do nothing for you now. It is a self imposed prison full of loathing that we put ourselves in. Battering ourselves to and fro, as a small boat washed out into a raging sea. It can come to no good to punish yourself mother, not now. You did what was intended. You stayed with him through sickness and in health, that was your promise to him was it not?"

Outside the door to the room the young doctor stood in tears. He'd not cried since his own father's death several years before. Here was a young woman who was consoling another in the most compassionate of ways. Finding method or courage to do so successfully was a gift indeed, one which he could quite easily tell from this brief encounter, Nicole most definitely possessed. He could learn much from this young woman, perhaps far more than he had thought at first blush. He had knowledge, he possessed skill in his profession; what he had not learned was how to bring release to the mind of a body possessed with such guilt. She did so with adept ease. Yes, perhaps Nicole was a brighter gem than any ever knew. Unpolished, undiscovered, and most certainly, underappreciated.

He walked away from the door, quietly down the hall. He would administer the medicine to the woman when he returned. He'd go to see about a sleigh to carry them to the undertaker. There were a few arrangements still to be made. Though the curious man had taken care of payment, he'd made it abundantly clear before his departure, that he wanted the women to have whatever they wished for Victoria, even if it had to be sent off to Paris for. He sighed. Perhaps he had underestimated the civility, the class of this tiny hamlet…for certainly good blood did indeed run there. He smiled, knowing his grandfather would have been exceedingly pleased at his revelation.

XXXX

Nadir found himself knocking on Meg's door. He'd have to be reassuring yet persuasive if he'd any hope of making this as swift as possible.

"Do come in," called Madame Giry. She'd learned to recognize his knock.

"Dear ladies," he said as he entered, closing the door behind him. He walked over and sat in the chair opposite the divan where Madame Giry had positioned Meg and was now braiding her hair. "Meg, I trust that you've had opportunity to speak with your mother?"

Meg was nodding. "I am most distraught over it really. Nadir, Raoul is not a man such that he would take any pleasure in killing another, even one so vile. To learn of Raoul's injury has made me rather distressed. Raoul's father was here but a few moments ago, telling us of the note he's been given by the doctor…" Meg paused looking between her mother and Nadir. "I have no wish to leave his side Nadir, but mother tells me that a mutual friend is in Paris.."

Nadir nodded retrieving the note from his breast pocket. "Perhaps the two of you should read this." He handed it to Madame Giry.

She sighed in relief, a note had come, no doubt from Erik. She took it over and sat down on the divan next to Meg. She opened the envelope and began to read.

Nadir paced the floor over by the window as the women read. It served a much better purpose for them to read it rather than for he to explain it. It seemed like waiting for water to boil as he glanced back and forth to see if they'd yet finished. When finally he heard the paper being refolded, he turned around. He could see Meg's face. Such conflict on a young woman's face he'd not seen, but immediately understood her distress.

He walked over putting his hand on her shoulder.

"Meg, this is not an easy choice my dear, I understand." He glanced at Madame Giry. "The doctor has assured me that it is best for Raoul if we allow him time to rest." Meg looked at him, her lips quivering. "I know you have no want of leaving his side my dear, but it would be but for a few hours, and," he paused touching her hand and smiling, "the doctor has agreed to permit you a brief visit." Meg's eyes brightened. Nadir smiled though it pained him. "To look in on him rather, though you're not to disturb him with speech or sound. If you agree to those terms, then he shall permit it."

Meg wanted more, so much more. To hold his hands, to look into his eyes, to tell him she loved him…but she understood. She nodded her head in assent. Seeing him, if for a brief silent moment, was better than the alternative. She only wanted what was best for him.

Nadir smiled, "then come child, come with your mother. I shall take you to him. I will go on to the carriage house and arrange for everything, not to worry."

Meg and Madame Giry were already on their feet. Madame Giry and Nadir each took one of Meg's hands, as they led her out of the room.

Madame Giry leaned over whispering into Meg's ear, "it shall be alright Meg, do not worry. You know how the doctor cares for Raoul. You've every reason to be optimistic about his recovery."

Meg squeezed her hand. "I shan't worry mother, though I do pity him for the pain he must suffer. Having been under the care of the same physician, I know he shall be well taken care of."

Meg leaned over whispering into her mother's ear. "Christine mother!" she paused, correcting herself, "Elizabeth mother! It will be so very good to see her, to see them together." Meg's mind was racing. It had been far too long since she'd seen Christine, and she had been missing her terribly. She had so very much to share with her dear sweet friend.

They arrived at Raoul's door. Nadir approached it, laying one hand on the handle, the other pointed stiffly toward the sky, placed over his lips. He'd proceed no further until they were entirely silent. He'd not knock lest he disturb the patient. Slowly he opened the door peeking his head inside.

The doctor rose from his chair, placing the book he'd been reading face down on the table next to his chair. He strode silently over to Nadir, opening the door just slightly escorting Nadir and the two women into the room, closing the door behind them.

The doctor focused directly on Meg, as if the two others that accompanied her, were not even in the room. He'd dealt a sufficient number of times with grieving widows, and in the lot of them, they were not nearly as difficult as the women who were betrothed and their fiancé was lost…there was something so desperate about love that had never been explored. True, Raoul had not died, nor was his life even remotely in danger, but his lack of conciousness would give Meg worry, especially since he still lay face down buried in the pillows.

He leaned over and whispered in her ear. "Hold his hand Meg, behold him with your eyes, but nothing more, he must rest, at least for this one day. On the morrow you shall pay him a visit in the morning. Do find something to occupy yourself. Do not worry, all will be well, and I promise to take care of his every need."

He leaned away looking Meg in the eye, his glance pausing for a fleeting second on the site where he'd removed the stitches, then he smiled. Leaning back in to whisper in her ear once more. "You and Raoul will have this in common my dear," he said to her as he ran the back of his index finger over her cheek. "You both had twenty one stitches!"

The humor with which he spoke set Meg at ease. A blush and a smile crossing her face. He certainly knew how to handle her. He led her to Raoul's side, and slipped the sheet off exposing Raoul's hand. He'd been careful to wash all traces of blood from it so as not to frighten Meg. She smiled at him and he walked away to talk to her mother.

Meg slipped her hand into his, placing her other hand over the back of his hand. She knelt down next to the bed and tried to look at his face, but alas, he'd had it buried in the pillows so deeply that if she shan't have been able to watch his back rise and fall, she'd have estimated he'd not be able to breath. She closed her eyes raising a silent prayer. She stood, leaning over trying to see the place where the stitches were, and yes, the doctor had left them exposed to the air so best they could heal. The very sight of it was sufficient cause to feel a bit light headed. It was crusted with blood at the edges, black and blue were the majority with a smattering of a deep purple. No doubt whatever he'd hit his head on had been hard enough that it should have broken his skull right in two!

Meg sighed, she wished she could stay there forever just holding his hand until he awoke, but she knew she could not. She had to be strong. He was in good care, and her friend was waiting for her. She'd no want to leave, but she knew she must, for she knew not when she would ever have opportunity to see Christine again.

She stood turning around realizing that everyone, with the exception of the doctor had left the room…she hadn't even noticed. She had no idea how long she had been there, but the doctor looked sufficiently settled and as though he'd been reading a while. She slid her hand from Raoul's leaning down to place a kiss on his knuckles, pulling the covers back over his shoulder. She stood staring at him for a last moment, then turned walking as quietly as she could over to the doctor. She leaned down and whispered in his ear, "thank you…thank you for watching over him. If he should wake…"

The doctor was nodding his head. He'd not be telling Raoul of her travels. Although as much Raoul loved Meg, he'd likely not even know his own first name. He was in an induced state of mind where time and reality have stopped and you are peacefully floating through space. "Do not worry my dear, it will be well for the two of you very soon…I can feel it in my bones.

Meg leaned over and placed a delicate kiss on his cheek. "You are a most kind and wonderful man Barron." Then she turned and made her way to the door. She glanced one last time over her shoulder. He'd not care that she had gone, and likely would not even know that she had gone. The evening would go quickly and she'd much to look forward do. She was going to see Christine, and she could imagine no finer a distraction.

She opened the door, and slipped from the room, tugging at the door handle several times until it closed . She looked down toward her mother's room, she was just coming out, cloak in hand and walked rather quickly toward Meg. "Come, we must move quickly before the night arrives, Nadir no doubt waits for us to join him."

Meg took the cloak that her mother offered her and the women walked side by side to the stairs. "Mother today I am both excited yet terrified. I've never had two such diverging things requiring my attention. One brings me great happiness, the other such sorrow."

Madame Giry patted her hand, as they started to descend, "all in good time my dear, all in good time."

Nadir was on his way back from the carriage house. The morning had been somewhat of a blur. When the day began he'd fully expected it to be spent in the leisure of Madame Giry's company as they awaited word from Erik. Now, it was after 1:00, and they'd not even had lunch, nor would they have time to do so before they left.

XXXX

The parlor was awash in the glittering rays of the new spring sun. As Erik and Christine passed the large door at the end of the hall that was inlaid with beveled and stained glass, the light was nearly blinding. There were all manner of cast shadow and illuminations dancing in the hall; a day most certainly filled with promise. Erik led Christine into the room, cups in hand as if they were connoisseurs of fine art venturing into the gallery of a little known but highly touted artist.


	176. Another Look

Chapter 176 Another Look

Christine smiled as Erik led her into the parlor. Once more she beheld the work that he'd done. It amazed her still the talent this man she called her husband possessed. She'd yet to find one thing that he shan't be able to do, and do well. How could one soul know so many things, have been blessed with so many abilities…she did not know.

She looked over her shoulder as Erik released her hand allowing her to roam at will. It was her gallery, her life, his work, his love, displayed for all those that graced those halls to enjoy. She counted each painting, "one, two, three, four, five," there were fourteen in total. Each representing a place, event, or feeling that she could remember.

She wondered to herself as her eyes traveled from painting to painting how he had known of such things. For surely even he had to have slept. It seemed that for the very precise moments that she'd felt the loneliest, or the most distraught, he had been there watching, taking a mental picture of the moment and then carrying it with such precision to the canvas capturing it forevermore. Each one was like looking with a magnifying glass at a past that he'd nurtured her through, only to bring her to that very day, in that very place, to that very room. She smiled, she thought to herself, if she lived a hundred lifetimes, she'd never be able to comprehend the gravity of the love he had for her.

Erik watched as Christine went silently from painting to painting studying each one with curious eyes. He waited not far inside the door as she strode from one to the next. There was an indescribable pleasure that overwhelmed him. She had been the object of his affections, the very muse for the works she now looked upon. To watch her expressions, her emotions, her admiration as she reached out to touch the frames, running her hand over the engraved wood….for an artist, there can be no finer moment! To see someone take pleasure in what you've done, is exhilarating. But to observe the very thing that had caused you to put thought on canvas with color and passion, was a feeling he could not put name to. The hours he had spent, each stroke of his brush, each blend of shade and hue until it was perfect…all culminating in this singular moment.

Some of the painting had been created through a strain of tears, colors and backdrops muted and blotted for his lack of being able to see through the fog and emotion of it. Some had been painted with brilliant color for the pride that swelled within him. It was indeed his love and adoration for the woman put on display. Each painting had a story, not only of the moment they captured, but of the emotions with which they had been created.

He waited in silence, just watching. Watching as the love of his life looked at the love story painted on the walls. Some he blushed as she studied them, knowing full well what she might be thinking. He wondered of the questions she would ask, which one she would select, for he had a story for each one, being able to recall in great detail the particulars of the event, and the time and place in which he had painted it.

"Erik, what caused you to choose to paint them…these very moments…" she began to walk the perimeter of the room, running her hand along the bottom of each frame. "Each moment…I am curious my love….I knew of your passion for music, and have only come in recent months, to see with what skill you painted."

She turned smiling at him, "our houses are galleries in their own right, lovely scenes of heavenly places painted on each ceiling." Her eyes meeting his with such gratitude. She turned back to the pictures, glancing up at them. "You've much talent my love." Christine's eyes roamed the room, it felt nearly like a shrine, and she suddenly felt out of place, she was not worthy of such adoration.

"Christine, mon cheri," Erik said as he walked toward her taking her hand into his. He came along side her, standing beneath the portrait of she and Meg, each holding a bear. They glanced up at it together. "This one my dear, I can tell you that I followed you and Meg with Madame Giry. I was dressed nearly as a beggar to avert any wondering eyes. The atmosphere had been such that I worried for your safety. You'd only just arrived not long before, certainly naïve to the ways of the world, and I knew how quickly young children could disappear at a carnival…."

Erik suddenly having flashes of his own capture at the hands of the gypsies simply for venturing out of doors to see what caused such revelry. It had undeniably altered his life as the gypsies made use of him as if he had been chattel, a sub-human life, to be battered, beaten, exploited…it had been that very thing that caused him such worry, that he'd risked the light of day to protect them.

"You and Meg were entirely incorrigible at that age!" Erik laughed, thinking often of how Madame Giry had often vented her frustrations with the two young ladies. "Madame Giry oft said that the two of you were like chattering squirrels, full of energy and vim and vigor! This day in particular, the two of you had joined together in your pleadings until the dear woman felt she'd no choice but to relent or be driven entirely mad!" Erik laughed, turning to look at Christine. She was smiling in amusement, she remembered their beseeching Madame Giry that they were most in need of the bears. That had been a lovely afternoon. Her eyes turned down for a brief moment. She not even sensed that flesh and blood had followed them that day, though she always felt as if the angel of music was with her wherever she'd gone.

"The bears were only the beginning of your capers with Meg. In truth the pair of you together could find all manner of mischief to dabble in! Madame Giry at times felt as though she were raising a pair of twins!"

Erik stood looking up at the picture. Madame Giry had taken on this great task of rearing this young woman as if she were her own. Yet she allowed her to develop as an individual, fully aware that she'd had a father who loved her, and a mother that certainly would have, had fate been kind. In truth she'd been grateful for the company for Meg, for she'd never truly fit in with some of the other girls. She had a much quieter spirit, and did not join in their revelry. Madame Giry had been relieved to have found a more suitable companion for Meg in Christine, and she'd come to love the girl as if she were her own.

There had been only one small girl, Prue, that Meg had ever become fond of, and it hadn't been long before their friendship had seemingly waned. Prue's temperament had changed, becoming far darker than Madame Giry preferred. It had been that young woman that had prompted the conversation with Erik of her wish to have the girls' dormitory moved far away from the scoundrels that lived in the bowels. She was certain that some unfortunate thing had happened to the girl at the hands of one of the more disreputable men that lived there. To see such a striking change in a ballerina was truly disheartening. She'd gone off several years before to work at one of the other houses in Paris, one far more garish and certainly of much less repute. They'd heard she'd changed her name in order to protect the reputation of the Opera Populaire, something which they'd at least respected the young woman for.

Erik shook his head, he'd gotten lost in thought. He could feel Christine staring at him. "My dear, the two of you were…let us say politely, were a bit of a challenge. As I recall, that night, both you and Meg sat up well past the time you should have been sleeping, having had far too many sweets to rest properly!"

Christine laughed, indeed it was as he said. "Erik, you are…" she paused, turning to look up at him. "The cookies! Madame Giry…"

Erik nodded, "yes, you'd commented on how very nice it was that Madame Giry had given an old beggar a handful of cookies…in fact you'd spoken of it much later to me, do you remember?"

Christine smiled as she looked back at the painting, that very afternoon coming alive in her mind. "I'd told my angel that Madame Giry had given example of how to be kind to the less fortunate…" she blushed, little had she known. She squeezed Erik's hand.

Erik kissed her temple, leading her to the next painting. "This one my dear, oh how you'd wished to have such a fine costume, to be dressed as a Prima….and I had fashioned it in my mind, just as you'd described it. You would have been a beautiful Prima my love, had your voice not have beheld such glory." Erik's conscious jerked at his heart. She'd left behind her wish to be a ballerina for his encouragement of her voice, and she'd left behind her career as a leading soprano to be his wife…she had sacrificed much.

Christine reached out running her hand along the frame, it was truly exquisite. "Oh how I'd wanted that dress…to be as graceful as she…" she sighed, turning her head leaning it into Erik's chest, running her hand behind her up along his neck. "Though I'd not wanted it nearly so much as I'd wanted angel to be flesh that I could touch as I do now." She'd sensed his regret.

Erik kissed her temple yet again. Oh how he loved this woman. She'd never allow him to forget that she loved him. "I'd thought of this one long before I'd painted it. It had been difficult, not in technique, but in imagining you to fall to the career of Prima, whose career lasts but a few years, when such a voice as yours could last for decades. I suppose in some way I was struggling with your future, though I'd in truth had little influence over it."

Christine turned about and looked Erik in the eye. "Little influence? I should think I would like very much for you to retract those words! Influence is precisely what you had my love, for without you, without your encouragement, I'd have no will of my own to dream of such possibilities, for I was nothing more than an orphan whose only hope for a life of any sort was for some suitor to have pity on me, a mere chorus girl, and take me from the Opera House as his wife. You allowed my eyes to be open…full of possibility…"

Erik never liked when she spoke ill of herself…she had never been nor ever would be just merely something. She had been his voice for a world that could not hear him. A heart beating in a world he did not belong to. His link to the gentleness of spirit, and the purest love he'd ever known. He sighed, he had to remind himself that she was speaking of her feelings then, not how she now perceived herself, for certainly her view of nearly everything in her life had been altered in recent months.

"Christine, a light as brilliant as your could not be hidden, it would have shown in spite of your doubts. Here, look at this young woman…does she look as merely a girl to you?" Erik said as he led Christine over to the picture of her graduation from finishing school.

Christine remembered the day. She was proud of her accomplishment true, but she'd not thought of boasting of it. The day had been filled with all sorts of flattery and compliment, but none had meant as much as the one sentence that her angel had uttered...she could hear it still in her mind. "Brava Christine…brava." His approval had meant far more to her than the hundreds of shallow compliments that were showered on the young women.

"That day was special indeed Erik." She'd subconsciously taken Erik's hand into hers, tracing hearts in the palm of his hand as she spoke. She'd remembered a conversation that she and Madame Giry had as they strolled through the garden after the party was over. She wanted to be assured there was still room for her under the Opera House roof, that she was not destined to be quickly paired off for marriage at a tender age, for she doubted she could have endured leaving her angel. "Erik, had you followed Madame Giry out into the garden that afternoon?" She turned to look up into his eyes.

He glanced at Christine. He remembered the nod that Madame Giry had given him as she led Christine off into the gardens…that conversation, though he'd wanted not to miss a thing during the reception for the girls, he'd not been permitted to partake of. He remembered Antoinette's words, "some things are meant only for the tender ears of women Erik, and these moments as a young woman contemplates her future, are such moments." It had been the first time he'd actually taken conscious thought of Christine wanting some day to leave the Opera Populaire…oh how he'd grieved it. "No Christine…I'd not followed you, that moment was meant for you and Madame Giry alone."

Inside she was eternally relieved. She'd spoken much as to the longings of her heart to Madame Giry. She'd spoken of several young men in the City whom she shan't mind being suited by, and of the life she would live should she be fortunate enough to marry well. Those words would certainly have broken Erik's heart for she remembered with great clarity how she'd told Madame Giry that she'd hoped not to marry someone much more than a few years older than she. She'd rather thought it repulsive to be subjected to the marriage of an older man. She blinked. If she'd not move on to the next painting, her eyes would betray her.

Christine slipped her hands into Erik's as she led him to the picture in a grand frame that graced the corner. It was as if he'd purposely given it a more grand frame than all the rest so as to not diminish its importance because of its placement. The frame was of finely engraved oak, polished to a warm, glossy sheen. The frame was done in relief, so that the violins and ribbons were elevated above the remaing wood, giving them the prominence that he'd wished them to.

Erik stood behind Christine, running his strong arms around her shoulders, pulling her back into his chest. They stared up at it together. It was the night of her first performance at the Opera Populaire, it had been the second to the last one he would ever paint for the woman. They gazed at the picture as he began to explain.

"You were so very beautiful that night my love. You shown as brightly as a crown jewel in that dress." He ran he hand along her cheek. "It had undone my heart that the first place you'd gone as soon as you'd left the stage was down to the chapel to light a candel for your father. It was as if all the praise that the other performers so hungrily saught was not even a fleeting consideration in your heart. You wanted only to know that your father would be pleased." Erik smiled as he rested his chin next to her temple.

Christine turned around in his arms looking up into his eyes. She slid her arms around his waist, putting her head on his chest, pulling him as close to her as she could. "Erik…my dear Erik…in all those times that I'd come to the chapel…to light a candel for my father…did you not know it was because that is how I thought I summoned you?"

Erik began to blink. He had thought that he had been intruding in on private moments of prayer and meditation….he'd not considered that she had been seeking him! "Christine?"

"Oh Erik, you did not know…I'd come yes, to pay homage to my father, to light a candel in prayer for him. I did miss him… But truly I came…so many times…to hear your voice, to feel your presence…it was you that I sought my love!"

Erik inhaled, a feeling over overwhelming euphoria washing over him. He'd thought, all those years that he'd simply slowly painted himself into Christine's life, and through that familiarity she'd grown attached to him…he'd never considered that she too had been seeking him! "Christine…those times…at night…when you left the candle lit beside your bed…were you not afraid of the dark?"

Christine smiled, nestling her cheek on his chest. "No my love…I had come to find that you only spoke to me, sang to me, those nights when the candle was lit…so I.."

Erik scooped Christine up into his arms, kissing her warmly, affectionately embracing her. Her love was more overwhelming the more of it he discovered. She had been summoning him, and he…he had thought he was intruding…perhaps it was he that had been naïve!

"Christine, Christine, Christine…." He said as he slowly lowered her from his arms to rest lightly on her feet. He slid his hands up to cup each side of her face as he looked deeply into her eyes. "Christine…you'd never known I'd been wrapped about the very tip of your pinky…" He kissed her, leaning away to look once more into her eyes. "I'd thought myself to be intruding…and here all of that time…you'd been looking for me?"

Christine nodded. "I did not think to be so forward as to run looking for you, nor to call out your name…it seemed far too presumptuous of me…so I took note of when you would come, and tried to do the same, or find myself in the same place, hoping you would come to me."

Erik began to smile, the smile turning to a grin, and soon he was laughing. He was recalling the many odd places he'd found her…now he would know why. "The roof of the Opera House?"

"No, in truth I was deathly afraid of the height!" Christine smiled at him.

"The back gardens, behind the potting shed?" Erik cocked his head.

"I'd found myself there by chance while playing hide and seek, and you came to me."

Erik laughed heartily. "I thought you to be too close to the street, perhaps close enough to be snatched by some letch."

"The dark room filled with dusty books beyond the library proper?" Erik said, looking at Christine with question.

Christine blushed profusely. "I was thirteen Erik." She looked up at him with embarrassed eyes, and crimson brow. "I'd hoped beyond hope…that if I tarried in the dark long enough…far enough from every prying eye….that you would come to me…not as specter….but as flesh and blood. My attraction to your soul was growing by leaps and bounds, and by then I'd found myself day-dreaming of what you might look like if you'd have flesh."

She looked up running her hands along his cheek, kissing his chin. "I'd wanted so badly to be held by you." She ran her hands along his broad chest and down each of his arms until she reached the tips of his fingers, and intertwined hers with his. "I wanted to know you more than anything in the world…to be held by your arms…to kiss your lips…to.." Christine stopped, leaning her head once more into Erik's chest. "Oh how I loved you Erik…you will never know how my heart beat for you out of passion even then."

Erik could feel his emotions welling inside of him. She could never know how very much her words soothed his soul, released him of such guilt. He'd believed in a strange way, that he'd made her love him…led her to love him, by being there for all of those years. Sometimes someone loves only what they have known, only because it is all they have ever known. He had worried she had not made her choice freely. He could say nothing, do nothing but bask in the warmth of her reassuring words.

"Erik, this picture.." she said gazing up once more at the beauty of the chapel, she kneeling before the candle she'd lit for her father, the large painted angel that looked down on her as prayed and waited. "It captures something…I don't know how to describe it. That night, as I sat waiting for you to appear. I so prayed that this…this one thing…my performance would somehow make you real….as if it was the culmination of all of the hours, nay, years we had spent together come to fruition. In my childish heart I still yearned for what my mind had told me was impossible! Oh how I was pleading in my mind…right here…right at this moment…" she pointed up to the picture of herself, head bowed, candle lit, waiting, just waiting though it looked as if she were deep into the throws of prayer. "I was pleading with all of my heart that I could see you but once…touch you but once…to know you but once…I craved it more than anything, even air, even breath…" She looked up, deeply into his eyes. "You my dear were like the opium…like a drug that I craved so desperately that I was ready to exchange my life for it, if for but a few fleeting moments to be in your presence." She blinked, her confession was pure and true, and filled with such longing… "Erik…had Meg not found me and taken me away…I am not all that certain that I'd ever left that place alive."

Erik looked down at Christine, his heart nearly stopping. "Christine, what are these words that you speak?" His breathing slowly but steadily rising out of the gentle tempo he'd been lulling in.

Christine blinked, a true confession…there was simply no turning back. She looked down, she could not face him…not now. "Erik, do not hate me…please do not judge me…for it was a desperate time…I'd never felt more exposed in all of my life than when I'd been on that stage. The only way I'd managed not to collapse is staring into the bright lights, and imagining in my mind that I performed for you, and you alone." She put her head on his chest once more, now tears silently rolling down her cheeks. "After I was done, and the applause…the roses…I think Madame Giry knew I was overwhelmed, wisking me off to the dressing room as she did." Christine's hand rose brushing a tear from her cheek. "When she'd given me the rose…the one you'd left for me…I gone into deep thought. If you could not be in this world…" she felt her emotions rising in her throat…a gasp coming out as she blurted, "then I'd come to be with you." She buried her head in Erik's chest.

He embraced her, running his hands along her back, placing delicated kisses on the top of her head. "Christine…." He held her for long, quiet moments, until he'd felt her sobbing cease. She began to sniff and then she was silent. Oh how he loved her…but never, in his wildest imagination had he ever thought her to be….so in love with him.

Christine inhaled a deep, staggered breath, exhaling sharply. She looked up at Erik, her eyes red, her lashes glittering in the light from the afternoon sun. "Erik…do forgive me…I don't know what came over me…I felt torn, and I'd no want to live without someone I loved again. It had nearly killed me to lose my father….but the thought of losing you, of being away from you, looked upon, admired, it was all too much. I'd wanted no part of it…I only wanted you. I'd thought if I passed from this world, into yours, that you would somehow find me, and we would be together for eternity." She sighed, shaking her head, her own folly was a source of great shame in the presence of her husband. She ran her hand over her stomach. "That night…I'd decided…if you'd not come to me…I'd throw myself off the roof of the Opera House…" Christine looked into Erik's eyes, though they were tender, she could see the horror deep within them. "Do not think less of me my love…I could not bare to live without you any longer."

Erik began running his hands along her back once more, lovingly rubbing each tightened muscle. "How can I judge my love, when each night when I'd retire to my quarters…" a stiff sob rising in his chest… "I'd pray that I'd die in that coffin if I were never to possess you. As I woke each morning…I knew there was still hope…and that was what kept me going on…returning to you."

The pair stood there in the silence of the room, just staring into one another's eyes. Hand's intertwined. Wishes had been granted, secrets revealed, and somehow, a invisible but very tangible thread had begun stitching the holes that they'd had in their hearts those many years that they'd longed for each other…but never known.


	177. Warming Hearts

Chapter 177 Warming Hearts 

Dear Faithfuls: This will very likely be the last update until next Wednesday 12/28/05. If by some miracle I am able to make my way to a computer with internet, I will try to post a little something for Christmas. I do not want to promise what I cannot be assured I can deliver. I wish for you a blessed, safe, and happy holiday! I want you all to know, dear Phamily, that you have been the answer to my deepest Christmas wish…from the holiday last year….I asked for some sign of whether I would ever be able to write anything anyone would even want to read...for I'd felt drawn to it for a long while. It has been a great pleasure to have been able to author this story, and share a dream of mine with all of you. So, thank you…from the bottom of my heart! Merry Christmas!

Nadir mounted the veranda that led into the house. He'd seen the young man, JP, on his way back to Paris. His note, addressed for delivery to Monsieur Courtland secured beneath the boy's cloak and jacket. JP had a bit of coffee and the roll that had been given him, though he had seemed more interested in doing his duty than socializing with any of those in Raoul's employ. He'd been exceedingly loyal to Monsieur Courtland. Nadir thought it would certainly please him if Erik knew of it.

As Nadir reached for the door a large drop of icy water brushed his forehead on its way to the earth. Nadir smiled, dabbing at his brow. Though the warming temperatures would make travel by sleigh more challenging, he'd not miss the snow, and he so looked forward to once more walking the gardens at Courtland Manor. Erik had mentioned it twice in his note, his indication to Nadir that it was important, and that he'd no intentions for whatever reason, of staying any longer at the winter house. What had prompted this change of heart, Nadir knew not. It would be among a hundred other questions he'd wish to ask Erik when he saw him. His heart swelled. He had missed his friend, and the thought of the five of them once again being in the same room, the core of what felt like family to him now, was a blushing thought…it would do them all so very much good.

Nadir walked into the small entry way at the back of the house, carefully wiping his feet. He'd no want to make extra work for the Raoul's staff, especially since they'd be rallied by the carriage master in a few moments to make preparations, if however modest, for the three of them to travel into Paris.

Nadir marveled at what a happy atmosphere had overtaken the house. There was all manner of discussion of Raoul's heroic efforts, and of the joy that would soon arrive in Paris of the news of Crawlings death. The only truly unhappy staff were the one's who'd been displaced to allow for the storage of Crawlings body. And they, in Nadir's opinion, had reason for complaint.

There had been some healthy discussion over the idea of sending the prepared body into Paris with Meg and Madame Giry, but Nadir had squashed the idea nearly from the first. There was something altogether unsettling about having that body behind them on the sleigh. He'd not been a believer in omens, but it still felt a bit sinisterly awkward. They'd dispatch the sleigh once more when they returned from Paris. It had ultimately been the carriage master's call, and he had made it with little reservation.

The hallway was warm and the sunlight spilling in through every window of every room gave the house a spring-like glow. If one did not look outside at the heaps and mounds of snow, one would have comfortably felt that spring was in full bloom, and thoughts of sultry summer nights spent sipping lemonade on the veranda were not far off.

Nadir looked up hearing a bit of hushed chatter to see Meg and Madame Giry coming down the stairs. To him, it was a site to behold. In that flash of a moment he could imagine them, all one happy family…coming together for a celebration of some sort or another. Meg was dressed in a chiffon yellow taffeta dress, her hair braided and perched on her head like a crown, soft tendrils running down each side of her neck. With the exception of the raised deep pink line on her cheek, irritation from having the stitches removed, she was perfect. Madame Giry was as always, herself in manner and dress. She'd be returning to the Opera House for a visit, and for all eyes that would lay upon her for the first time in several months, she would not have them mistaking her for anything less than the woman who'd left. She was and would always be a ballet mistress, prim and proper.

Meg caught Nadir out of the corner of her eye. She went to him immediately embracing him as though she'd not seen him in a long while. "Oh Nadir," she whispered, "Raoul is well…much better to see that he slumbers, and that the gash is not too large. Though he rests, he breathes well, his skin is warm to the touch, and he is in the most capable hands. I dare say the doctor loves him as much as if he were his own son. Though I shan't want to leave him, as he had not thought to leave my side, I know that he must rest. And truly, if I were to stay in this house, I know that even the doctor shan't keep me from him. It is best that we've a distraction for the afternoon." She leaned in hugging Nadir once more. "I can barely stand to wait Nadir…to see them again…to learn of all that has happened. I've missed them desperately."

Nadir smiled at Meg, putting his finger under her chin, "mon cheri, it shan't be long, do not worry." He turned taking Madame Giry's hand, placing a kiss on her knuckles, "Madame."

Meg was smiling though she furrowed her brow. She looked back and forth between them. She'd been silent far too long. Perhaps it was her giddy anticipation, her nerves at leaving Raoul behind for the afternoon, but whatever it was she felt much more forward than she had, and did not think before she blurted out what she'd been thinking for weeks.

"Nadir, mother and I call you, with great fondness by your first name, and though I'm certain you've some title or another, you permit us to do so. You address me by my first name, in lieu of using the more formal mademoiselle, why is it, though you and my mother are obviously most fond of one another, that you do not call her by Antoinette?" Nadir's face went ashen, her mother's went white.

"Meg, your words are most forward and rude, you've no place to questions a gentleman's manners. He may use whatever respectful title he…" Madame Giry's cheeks had grown warm, and even now were flushing a deep crimson as she felt Nadir's eyes upon her. She glanced over, and into the warmth of his gaze. He had become much more than a friend, and truly she longed for it to be so, though her mind fought against her heart at every turn.

Nadir smiled at her, not the smile of a casual friend, but of one with whom she'd shared much. He glanced at Meg. "My dearest Meg. I do so love hearing you use my name, and yes, though I am titled, I prefer not to be known by those I feel closest to, as the Lord of this, or the Barron of that. To those I care for, I prefer to be known as simply Nadir, and nothing more. It is not improper that I use the title for your mother Meg, it is one that suits her, one that she's earned and is most deserving of that respect. If she prefers it, for the sake of her standing within this house, and indeed the Opera Populaire, then I feel obliged to use it." He smiled at Meg, then glanced at Madame Giry. "The name is merely a label, nothing more, it does not diminish my affections for her."

Madame Giry's face was as scarlet as she'd ever felt it. To hear his words, to see her daughter's encouragement, and know of her thoughts and wishes for her mother to be happy, was nearly more than she could take in. She so wanted to throw all caution to the wind and embrace a life that would bring her much happiness…but it would not be so…not as long as they both had duty and obligation. She looked at Nadir, a reply of some sort was necessary for such a compliment, but she'd not been able to breathe, let alone speak. She was blinking, trying to form some coherent statement , the three of them standing in the foyer at the bottom of the stairs. Madame Giry was just about to reply when the door at the end of the hall leading out onto the veranda opened.

The carriage master entered, nodding to Nadir, and ducking into the kitchen. They could hear him explaining his intentions to the staff. The three stood looking at one another.

In but a moment's time the carriage master was out once more in the hall, making his way toward them.

"Nadir, the sleigh is being prepared, the kitchen alerted." He pulled his watch from his pocket. "Within the half-hour all will be readied." He closed his watch, slipping it back into his pocket. "I might suggest that the three of you prepare to depart." He looked Meg and Madame Giry over just briefly, assessing they'd nothing more to do but done their hat and cloak. "I've asked the kitchen to prepare a bit of tea and a few sandwiches for you before we depart, perhaps you'd like to retire to the parlor and await news of the departure?" He glanced at Nadir.

Nadir was nodding. "Thank you, very well, we shall wait in the parlor."

The carriage master nodded in return, "ladies, if you'll excuse me." He bowed his head slightly.

Madame Giry nodded in return. The carriage master turned and departed.

Nadir extended his arms to Meg and Madame Giry. "Come let us await word. I should think that the two of you should be most ready for a light lunch hmmm?"

Meg was shaking her head. She'd had a rather large breakfast, but if the tray contained cucumber and dill sandwiches, she'd be making a bit of room for them, for they were her favorite.

Nadir turned his back on the door at the end of the hall, escorting the two women to the parlor. In a half-hour's time they'd be on their way to Paris, and a reunion that would certainly bring all manner of emotion….laughter, tears, but most importantly relief. Relief that they could all share together once more, in utter openness, and freely, for the place that they would venture, would be private or Erik would not have selected it. Oh how he wished for such a place for them all to be, but he knew it may very well be the last time that they could share so freely with one another without having to employ pseudo names or put on pretenses. He smiled, it would be a good day indeed.

XXXXX

The sleigh had been drawn to the back of the Inn. The doctor had made arrangements to accompany Nicole and her mother to the undertakers. He waited patiently at a small table normally reserved for carriage drivers just inside the door leading to the courtyard in the rear.

He'd been reading for a long while, the cup of tea he'd refilled several times. Great pains had been taken going through his old text books that he'd brought with him from school. In truth he knew all there was to know about the woman's affliction, but he'd want to re-read every detail, every thing he could possibly know about it once more. Refreshing one's knowledge was never unwise.

He read beneath his breath, "marked lethargy…decline in pulse and respiration…sallow skin tone…night sweats…loss of appetite." He closed the book, setting it down on the table, rubbing at his eyes. It was all there…the symptoms.

The next book he'd look for was the one that had been written about treatments both conventional and otherwise. Truly he believed wholeheartedly in the most modern of medicines, but he'd not been one, much to the chagrin of his professors, to turn his back on methods that were tried and true. There were many herbs and other natural things that provided much relief…and often those weren't talked about at school. A blending of the notes his grandfather had sent him about topics they'd been studying, and the newest texts that had been given at school, provided, what he believed to be a much more grounded approach to medicine.

Somewhere he knew he would find his grandfather's journals. The man had been exceptionally articulate, and taken scrupulous notes regarding patients, their treatment and the like. One of the last notes that he'd received from his grandfather before his death made reference to the numerous volumes that he'd written, and cataloged for his grandson. Yes, they would be historical medicine to be sure, a career that spanned more than four decades, but in them, he hoped to learn more about the man whom he loved dearly.

He stood, perhaps he'd refill his cup once more. The women couldn't possibly be too much longer, but then again, he'd never found himself in a situation where he'd had opportunity to wait for any, though he'd heard tale of it a time or two. He'd been far too busy with school, and the pursuit of knowledge to bother with such trifles, but now, he was certain, it would become part of his normal routine. He smiled, it was the first that he'd realized, it was just the beginning of what was certain to become a precious few months spent with two women that he'd come to know so quickly, yet felt like he'd known for years.

XXX

The winter house had been buzzing since Misty's return. The thought that Lady C would be paying a visit was the equivalent to the queen as far as they were concerned. The kitchen staff were busily polishing silver, and shining the finest china. The stables were being cleaned and ordered for the acceptance of what was certain to be a sleigh or carriage of magnificent size and splendor, depending upon the weather. The grounds were being tidied as best they could, a wide swath in the snow would be made, if it took the lot of them to do it. A normal lunch had not been prepared for the household, but a large kettle of soup and baskets of bread set out so that one could help themselves as their time permitted. It was a large undertaking, and they would rise to the occasion as best they could given what they had to work with. Had she been visiting Courtland Manor, it would have been far easier to provide a grand reception, but as it were at the winter house…it would be comfortable and presentable, but hardly representative of the man and woman who were masters of it.

The pair of senior cooks were pouring over the cookbooks, a bit of an argument breaking out about what sort of menu would be served. One wanted to use what they had on hand, the other insisted they send someone into the mercantile in Chauesser to retrieve a few finer things. In the end, they'd settled on a bit of each, as there was no way of knowing if the shelves at the market would be bare of the very items they'd needed.

Misty had flitted about the house, trying to surmise where this woman might go, and what she might see. Whatever would be within view would receive a twice-over. "Please, see to having the rugs battered." Misty said as she walked by the woman in the hall that was straightening them. The woman gave her a rather disgusted look. It was a long rug, running nearly the length of the hall. Beating it would be no small task.

Misty wandered back into the kitchen, lifting a bowl from the table next to the stove, dishing up a bit of soup. It had been since that morning that she'd even taken time to sit down. She'd been going from here and there making certain that everything would be taken care of. As she sat down with the soup, she felt a lump in her pocket. How careless she thought, the letter had been bent a bit. She rose from the table, excusing herself as she went off to put the envelope in the master bedroom. The note would be waiting there for them whenst they returned.

"That girl is a bit unnerving I tell you. She's parading around, behaving as if she was the head of the household and she's barely of age to be newly married herself! What right has she to be directing us to do this or that when she's been with the household not more than a year?" The one woman said to the other, glancing cautiously toward the doorway Misty had just departed. "She's being a bit brutish if you ask me, the neve of a young miss giving orders as she is…" The woman quieted as Misty returned to her chair.

"Now then, have the two of you yet decided on a menu?" Misty said as she dipped her spoon into her now cooled soup.

The two women looked at one another, a bit embarrassed. "Yes, we've decided, though we've need for a few provisions from the City. Do tell, will you be sending someone in for them?"

Misty hadn't thought of it, but it did make sense that they'd likely not have all that would be required for a small reception. "I suppose if we've need for something in particular…no, no, I think we shall make do with whatever we have on hand."

Misty's mind quickly working. Monsieur Courtland had carefully told her of the news of the events that had taken place, and of his wish to keep it all very much private. If she'd send anyone into the City, they could be barraged with questions that they'd not be able to answer, or learn of some gossip or another that they'd bring back to the house. "No, I think it best we use what we have. If the master returns and so directs us to procure or produce something that we do not have, it shall be his decision to send anyone further into the city." She looked most determinedly at the two women, she'd not be swayed.

The one woman had all she could bare. "What right have you to decide what we can and cannot do? It is in the best interest of Monsieur Courtland to put his best foot forward with Lady C., and I should think he would highly disapprove of your most pompous actions towards his staff when you yourself are still wet behind the ears!"

The other woman looked at her with aghast. Though she'd thought it to herself that the young woman was far too forward for her own propriety, she'd never have said as much.

Misty felt the ire rising in her. She was on assignment, she'd been given instructions, and she'd not let these, nor any other of the staff prevent her from keeping her word. She sighed, though she'd like to yell at the top of her lungs at the woman's impertinence, she'd be civilized. Acerbic tongue met with acerbic tongue never came to any good.

"My dear ladies, do not think that I am unware of my age, or that you have both worked for Monsieur Courtland for a number of years that would date me back into primary school. I've no intent to disrespect your age or position in this household. My only intent, and one that I am set upon, is to carry out the man's wishes, and instructions as he gave them. If you find, upon his return, that I'd overstepped whatever boundaries you feel I've trespassed, please then do call me into account for it. But I pray that you will indulge me, give me your confidence and assurance that you've the best interest of this household in mind and are willing to obligingly participate in the preparations." Misty had sat her spoon down. Her folded hands resting firmly in her lap. She'd not be accepting anything but unquestioning cooperation from these women.

The pair of elder women sat silently, though one was puffing a bit as her irritation began to subside. "Though I do find your method to be rather impertinent young lady, I shan't be a disloyal employee. If, as you say, you are truly on assignment for Monsieur Courtland, than I shall do as you ask, though I would tolerate it far better if you'd use a less authoritative tone, and the use of words such as please and thank you shan't be remiss in their use. We've every intention of caring for and preparing for the arrival of a woman whom we've seen ourselves, and it is not out of our perview to know that a household receiving a personal visit should find themselves among the fortunate few. Do not think for one moment that we'd permit anything to bring shame to the master of the house by letting even the smallest trifle go unattended. That we have perfected, and I dare say perhaps even before you were born." The woman sat back feeling a bit spent in trying desperately to keep an even-tempered tone to her reply.

Misty blinked several times. Perhaps she had been a bit too forceful in her delivery…but she'd not wanted to be taken lightly nor misunderstood. She looked from one woman to the next. "I do apologize for my carassness, if it seemed pointed and disrespectful. Let us put our feelings aside and take care of the details in Monsieur Courtlands abscense, so that upon his return he shall find a staff most worthy of all that he has so graciously bestowed upon us over the years."

Misty rose, her soup now cold, and her appetite gone. She'd perhaps work alone for a time, in the master chamber setting everything straight for the master's return. No doubt Elizabeth would be tired, and require a hot bath. The large claw-foot tub and not received a proper scrubbing since its last use. Yes, perhaps that physical work would give an outlet for her frustration.

"Good ladies, do excuse me." She returned her bowl to the dry sink, she'd tend to it later. For now, her need for solitude beckoned her most severely.

The women watched her leave the room, then sat silently drinking their tea. Though they'd not disagreed on the purpose of the activities, it had caused some difficulty. Now they would rise to the occasion and do what they must. Monsieur Courtland had taken good care of them over the years, even in his abscense, they'd not had want even for the most simple things. He'd provided food, most comfortable shelter, had sent a doctor twice a year to look in on them for good measure. Yes, well taken care of indeed.

XXX

The kitchen fell silent as Lady C walked in. She was not dressed in her normal black dress, crisp white blouse, and string of pearls. Though her hair was still drawn tightly at the crown of her head, her brow looked less tense, and her cheeks had a bit of a rosy hue. Lady C had donned a deep royal blue skirt, a very feminine blouse with neatly layered and tailored lace, and a beautiful broach affixed at the top just under her chin. It sparkled in the light shining in through the windows. She said not a word and made her way to the cupboard, retrieving a china cup and saucer for herself, going over to the pot of hot water and filling her cup. The staff looked at one another in wonder as she retrieved a tea ball from the drawer. They'd not have even thought she'd known where it was, for in all the years they had been there, they'd never seen her in the kitchen! As she sunk the teaball into her cup she looked about the cupboard. There was a tray of biscotti that she often enjoyed. Retrieving yet another plate she placed two biscotti on it. She began to smile. It was as if she was a mouse that had wandered into an alley full of cats. She was entirely out of place in that part of her own home, and she knew it both horrified and surprised them to find her there, for they made not so much as one peep. She turned around looking at them. Some had spoons and measuring instruments in their hands, others were cutting and wrapping things, and yet others were preparing the boxes to receive the candies that would be made enmasse for the people of Chauesser. She made a point of looking each one in the eye before she spoke. "It is good to be busy. Idle hands produce no good. Do carry on." She turned and walked from the room.

The staff just stood looking at one another, in a bit of shock. Why had she ventured there…why had the bell not been rung as it had thousands of times before…why had she looked at them….they knew not one of the answers. They listened as they heard the piano begin to play…and this time…for the first time since the holidays the year before…it was not something melancholy. It was a piece of Tchaikovsky. 'Allegro from Symphony No. 27 in G'. They smiled at one another as they returned to their tasks. Though busy, they uttered not a word…they would enjoy this reprieve from the serious and morose…if however temporal it may be.

XXXXX

The sleigh had been drawn and the last of the goods had been loaded. Andre was determined to return early, much he was sure, to the pleasure of Lady C. With nearly all thing procured from the merchant's, the promise of excellent resources yet to arrive, a note delivered without extended journey, it had been, on par, one of his better days in recent weeks. He'd be back in the comforts of the manor to enjoy high tea.

As he climbed aboard the sleigh, he'd a fleeting vision of the pleasant young woman he'd met that day. "Misty…what an entirely lovely name for such an enchanting young woman." He said, as he smiled to himself.

"Pardone me sir, I'd not heard properly what you'd said, if you'd be so kind to repeat it I'd be much obiged sir." Said the driver perched atop the rather large seat at the front of the sleigh.

Andre shook his head, "not to worry sir, it was a statement of thought, not of request." He looked up at him as he climbed into the sleigh, "let us be off to the house good sir, I've much to share with our mistress."

The driver nodded, waiting only long enough for the door to close and a moment for Andre to settle in, and they were off. Well supplied, deeds all completed, back to the house. It had been a busy day, with the promise of much more to come.

XXXX

JP rode the horse hard as he ventured back into Paris. He'd found the faster he moved the less the horse had opportunity to sink into the snow. Now on the cobblestone that was newly exposing as the snow began to give way under the warmth of the mid-afternoon sun, he felt entirely pleased with himself, and was certain his master would be equally pleased he'd completed the task that was given him. The silk merchant that Erphan had told him of was on the other side of the City. He was thankful that it was but a few minutes more and he'd be able to share all he had learned from his visit. He felt rather like an anxious schoolboy with some tale to tell, and he could hardly contain his anticipation of sharing with Erphan, and eventually Monsieur Courtland. Yes, he was pleased with himself, and hoped that the outcome of the visit paid to DeChagny's would produce, precisely what his employer had hoped that it would.

XXXX

Erik and Christine had stood holding one another in the warmth of the room that was now itself entirely bathed in sunlight so bright it was nearly blinding near the window. Erik had begun to hum, and slowly, unconsciously, they'd begun swaying back and forth, and before either of them knew, they'd begun dancing. Erik was lifting Christine's arm gracefully spinning her with the elegance of a trained prima, and he looked the part of a charming prince at a ball. The pair smiled at one another, a deeper warmer smile than before, if that were even possible. But somehow they felt closer than they had before, in spite of all the intimacy they'd shared to that point, there was something far more precious still about all that had been revealed. It was almost a silent acknowledgement, an exchange of assurance that it had been alright that they'd felt such an attraction for one another. That it had been a mutual feeling made the shame and embarrassment that they'd both unknowing harbored melt away. How could it be that they'd already shared so very much yet it seemed each new day produced an event or revelation that drove their love deeper still? They'd both stopped trying to answer such questions, for they were futile. They could only embrace them when they came, and be thankful for them.

As Erik pulled Christine once more into his embrace, he marveled at the brightness of her eyes as she stared up into his. They were glassy and admiring, searching. They were the windows into her soul, and to him, she opened them freely. He leaned down tenderly taking her lips into his. He'd stopped looking at his watch some hours before. Now he'd not cared how much of the day waned outside, for inside he'd found something that was timeless. Yet another release from the guilt he'd harbored. Yet another fragment of his tortured soul relieved….she had loved him…but more than that…she had sought him…with her mind, her heart, and her body. He had not been embraced and loved only as an angel, but as a man of flesh and blood. An answer to desperate prayers, to yearning souls…and in each other, the answer had manifested itself. Truly this was the essence of living…and he was thankful, eternally thankful…that he'd not missed it.

"Christine, in but a few hours we shall travel to the Opera Populaire. Is there any others," he swept his hand around the room, "any others you should like to know about?"

Christine smiled at him, he was offering to share, but she glanced down and thought for a moment. Thought about the dear sweet woman who'd taken such an interest in Erik those long years, who anticipated his visits with great zeal. "No Erik," she looked around once more, "perhaps another time."

He looked down at her with such wonder, he'd never thought them to ever return to Paris again, if however unfortunate it may seem. "But Christine…"

She shook her head, slipping her hand into his, "come Erik, I grow tired," she looked up at him sheepishly, her eyes twinkling.

A broad smile spreading across his face. She walked but a few more steps before he could take it no longer. He growled, bending to scoop her up into his arms. He left the parlor entering the hallway. All that could be heard was the laughter of two young lovers, entirely caught up in one another's presence, utterly in love, and wanting of nothing more than each other.


	178. So Close and Yet

Chapter 178 So Close and Yet 

Dear Faithfuls! I am so very happy and relieved to be home once more. Not just home physically, but home to all of you my phamily! I hope everyone had a wonderful holiday, and opportunity to spend time with those they care most about! As for my friends that I cared for post-surgery…they are both doing well. The one who had surgery last Thursday is happily back at work today, though she said she misses our being together terribly….it was hard to leave her, though I must say I don't mind getting a bit more sleep! Even in her drugged state, she'd stay up until 4:00 a.m. just chatting, and wondered why I was so sleepy when she rose at 7:30! She is doing well though. My second friend, who had surgery on Tuesday, is also doing well, though she had a few complications and will likely have two more surgeries before she is finished. She is a fighter though, so I know all will be well wit her.

Thank you once again for staying with our story, our Phamily, and I hope that this chapter provides a few smiles, a few tears, and perhaps a few answers.

Did I mention it was so very wonderful to be home?

The carriage master returned to the house once more. Everything had been readied to Nadir's specifications. Though he'd have preferred to allow no one to leave, as the receding snow would make travel difficult, he could see the prudence in taking care of the final details for their dearly departed friend. Furthermore, they'd need to pay, what would likely be a last visit, on the relatives who'd traveled to Paris to call on them.

He was shaking his head as he came in the back entry, wiping his feet on the duly provided rug for that purpose. Madeline had seen to having them brought out of winter storage just after the storm arrived some days before. He thought about the young man that would have to be carried into Paris before the day came to a close. Truly, he'd not liked anything about the Crawlings character to be sure, but it was heartbreaking none-the-less, that a young man's life had taken such a precipitously ugly plunge before he'd even reached full maturity. It seemed to him, the youth had little choice in his final fate, having been shaped and crafted into nothing more than a heartless hunter, vengeance his only means of satiation.

The Crawlings family had waged such treachery these last years, and the good citizens of Paris would be ever so grateful that the City had been rid of every seed and root of the bloodline. He'd fixated long on that thought as he had stared down at the boy's corpse the night before. He'd looked like an innocent lad sleeping, if not a bit like some in his own keeping. He'd found some resting, from time-to-time, in the barn or in the woods, when they were to be otherwise engaged in some activity. He could imagine only that this young man had deserved a chance to be freed of the fate that had befallen him solely because of his breeding. Had he been raised by a proper family, perhaps he would have been a much different young man altogether. It was not to be now.

In a few days time, young Crawlings would be laid to rest alongside his father and brother, in a grave suitable only for villains in the darkest, most disagreeable part of the cemetery. Oddly enough, years from now, their escapades would likely be told as stories with evil waging its war against good; where villains seemed glorified, and brave good men painted as naïve. That was simply the way of things.

His cloak now removed and hanging on the hook provided in the servant's closet, he went straightaway to the parlor peering in. Nadir, Madame Giry, and Meg sat inside sipping on the last of their tea. To his pleasure, he could see they were prepared; small packed bags at their sides. He smiled as he entered; they were all ready.

"Monsieur, Madame, mademoiselle." He nodded in respectful greeting. "The sleigh is readied. A modest lunch has been packed for you; should you find need for it, but I am most certain that you shan't have any difficulty securing a meal at the Opera Populaire." He looked at them as they all stood. "Shall we say five minutes Sir?"

Nadir nodded. They were just a bit more than an hour away from reuniting with Erik and Christine. Though he was filled with the giddy enthusiasm of a schoolboy, his mind wrestled with what state he would find Erik in. Certainly there would be private discussions amongst the women, and he was as badly in need of that very thing as he was most certain Erik would be. "Very well sir; five minutes." He looked at Madame Giry with a bit of eagerness in his eye as she nodded her head. "We shall be prepared and join you in the courtyard."

The carriage master nodded once more and departed.

"Now Meg, do make certain you've brought your muff along. Though I feel it is warming this very minute, I've good reason to believe that there might very well be a chill in the air when we return later in the day. It is best to be prepared my dear." He looked at her with a fatherly smile.

"Nadir, truly you are a worry wart, akin to my mother I'm afraid!" She sighed, looking back and forth between her mother and Nadir. She smiled to herself…. "I'll see to retrieving it, I know precisely where it is in my wardrobe." She glanced at her mother, and then back at Nadir. "I shan't be but a moment." She made her way to the door, a broad smile crossing her face as soon as they were out of view. Perhaps a moment alone would be good for the pair of them.

Meg made her way out into the hall, squinting at the brightness of the sun. The hall was warm, and glowing. She made quick work of the stairs, feeling fully rested and ready to meet the challenges of the day.

As she made her way into her room, her thoughts wandered to Raoul, the smile quickly fading from her face. Oh how she wanted to be by his side, silently holding his hand as he had done for her so very many times when she'd been recuperating. Guilt panged at her heart…the very least she could do was to return the concerned, affectionate attentions. She closed her eyes. Never had her soul been so torn in two directions. It felt like a prisoner, her heart being drawn and quartered…it was so very difficult.

She knew the doctor would provide far more for Raoul's needs than she ever might, yet it grieved her to think of leaving him without so much as a word of explanation. "No, I must not dwell on it." She said under her breath. The doctor had assured her that Raoul would likely not stir until well after dark, and that it was best that he rested, his traumas had been great and he'd needed a reprieve from them. Full and complete rest would be best for him.

She pulled the muff from the drawer. Finding herself once more out in the hallway, the stairs to her left, the corridor on the right, led to Raoul's room. She paused and then turned, if but for a moment, she'd tarry outside his door, sending him a silent wish and a prayer. It could do no harm.

She stood there a long while, ear pressed against the hollow door. It had something of an amplifying affect. She could hear perfectly the doctor clearing his throat, pouring a cup of tea, and the parchment pages of a book he was likely reading, turning under the guidance of his hand.

Meg closed her eyes. The Latin training of her youth produced the most curious of quotes that floated in an out of her mind during times of stress…and leaving him provided no lack of proper stimulation. "Inter spem et metum ihil est ab omni parte beatum" (_Between hope and fear_- _Nothing is good in every part) _That was her feeling. Something between hope of what being reunited with Erik and Christine would produce, and the fear that Raoul would somehow feel rejected, abandoned, and utterly alone, once more unsure of her commitment to him. "I love you" she whispered, placing a delicate kiss on the door...then she was gone.

Nadir had fidgeted with his cloak, his top hat donned. He and Madame Giry had stood in near silence since Meg had left, other than the "thank you" she'd managed when he lifted the cloak to her shoulders. They looked, smiling at one another as though they were nothing more than polite strangers. Meg's words had hit a cord in their hearts…why did they wait? Why did she not give him permission to call her by a more familiar moniker?

He glanced at the ground.

Madame Giry's heart was racing. It nearly went without saying, she was deluged with eager anticipation at the mere though of seeing Christine and Erik. However, in that moment, she was wrestling with something more. Something that frightened her, for it was part of a past she'd long thought dead. An overwhelming urge she'd long since forgotten; a flicker of a light she'd thought to have buried with her husband some years before. She longed to rush into Nadir's arms, rest her cheek against his shoulder, feel the strength of his arms in an embrace….but she knew it could not be so. She just stood, looking back and forth between the door that led out into the hallway where Meg or the carriage master would certainly come through at any moment and the exaggerated ticking of the large clock on the mantel. They were unworthy distractions, only prolonging the agony…something akin to a jagged sliver being pulled out of the flesh slowly.

Conflict was always difficult. This internalized torture was unbearable. Responsible people….no….she thought, people who are charged with being responsible for the lives of others, were not permitted the luxury of such feelings; but that did not prevent their hearts for burning for it all the same. She'd felt the sweat grow on her brow, quickly reaching into the pocket of her cloak to retrieve her handkerchief. Her tugging released it, along with her gloves that fell into a ball on the ground. She hurriedly began tucking the lining of her pocket back into her cloak.

Nadir came forward in a gentlemanly gesture to scoop up her gloves from the ground. As he stood, extending the contents of his hand to her, their eyes locked.

Madame Giry could not breathe. She blinked once, and only once, and in that fleeting second Nadir came forward embracing her. He slid his arm around her waist, the other gently on her back drawing her to him. His head resting just above her ear. "Antoinette, for all of the reasons we both know to be true, and all those we've discussed, this shan't be as we would wish it." He closed his eyes swallowing hard…he'd not want her to misunderstand. "In my heart I can behold no one other than you….and the thought of living without you…I could sooner do without the beating of my heart." The warmth of his breath on her skin was scintillating.

The rigidity and fear rapidly dissolving into a warmth and feeling much like an itch that had eluded you for a long while, finally being found and suitably scratched. She turned her head breathlessly intending to reply. Her pulse was racing. She stared up into his eyes, and felt as a young mademoiselle in her teens, swooning in the wake of her emotion. The words would not form…there seemed to be none in her entire vocabulary that could impart what she was feeling…The physical proximity allowed her reflexes to do what her mind could not. Her lips reaching out for his instead.

In a moment she would remember for long years to come, Nadir tenderly took her lips into his, kissing her with a tender reservation. He wanted so to embrace her with the passion that burned within him, yet feared in his heart he would frighten her once more into retreating from him. Madame Giry had begun to tremble as the rush of emotions long pent, now exposed, came rushing forward as the mighty waters swelling through a broken dam. She slipped her arms beneath his cloak, running them behind Nadir's back, returning his affections.

The kiss lasted only a few precious minutes; ending with the pair breathless. Her forehead pressed against his chin, his lips grazing her temple. Nothing could be said….nothing needed to be said…they were no longer able to deny it. On the seemingly impassable brink, the question would now become…however would they manage it? They both knew, that not everything that sprouted and grew on this earth was allowed to survive. Only the keeper of time would know their fate.

Madame Giry's head turned as she heard what could only be Meg's steps coming down the stairs. Though she was light on her feet, to the trained ears of a ballet Mistress, she would recognize that sound anywhere.

Nadir slipped his arms from around Madame Giry, releasing her. As they separated, he brushed a delicate kiss on her cheek before reaching up for the hook that affixed her cloak. "There we are." He said as he smiled at Meg who was just rejoining them.

Meg came in smiling, her mother was all flushed, but she'd not say a word about it. Perhaps she would pass it off as being a bit warm, having had her cloak on for sometime in a room that now was growing rather warm itself. "I've my muff…are we ready?"

Nadir nodded, extending his arm to Madame Giry, "shall we….Antoinette?"

Meg's eyes shone brightly as she looked at her mother, eager for her response.

She glanced at Meg, a warm knowing smile. "Yes Nadir…I am ready." She slipped her arm in his.

Nadir extended his other arm for Meg. "Ladies, it is my most genuine pleasure to be escorting the two of you to visit your family. Let us pray for good weather, safe travel, and a wonderful visit shall we?"

Meg looked down, a small bit of the shine in her eyes disappearing. "And for a good day's rest for Raoul.."

Madame Giry leaned over kissing Meg's temple. "Do not worry my dear, all shall be well with him….all shall be well."

The trio walked down the corridor and out into the awaiting sleigh. The trip into Paris would seem long simply for the sheer anticipation of what awaited them within that City…for it was what they longed for…to the depths of their souls.

XXXXXX

Erik and Christine sat by the side of the fire. Backs leaned up against the divan, as they were nestled in one another's arms in the numerous blankets that they'd wrapped about them on the floor. Christine's cheek nestled against the warmth of the flesh by Erik's neck. Her eyes taking turns luring her into a comforting slumber and turning to look upon his face…she'd never grow tired of gazing upon it.

Erik sighed. It was neither of discomfort or disgust, but merely of a relaxed, peaceful soul sighing in relief. He was precisely where he would want to stay forevermore…in Christine's arms. He had no idea what time of day it had grown to, or why the lady and the young men had yet to return, but he could say with complete certainty, that he couldn't have thought of a finer way to spend a day of leisure. A day of leisure…..a pleasure he'd viewed as weakness in the human race. Recent events of the months just previous had altered his perception of the art of relaxation. It did, he learned, serve a most suitable purpose.

He looked down into Christine's eyes. His heart nearly melted every time he looked into the depths of those brown eyes…they drew him in like a mighty whirlpool for he was sure that her gaze alone possessed a centrifugal force, and he was powerless against it.

"Christine…I love you." He said as he brushed her hair from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. She leaned her cheek down into the palm of his hand.

"And I my love, adore you." She smiled back up at him, bringing her hand to rest under his as she rubbed her cheek in his palm.

"My dear Christine, though I would much prefer to stay just as we are, I know that the time will grow late and we should be readying for a visit to the Opera House. Come," he stood, taking her hand, assisting her to rise, all manner of blanket and cover slipping to the floor. "Let me help you…"

He slid her slip over her head, placing a kiss on each shoulder before he reached for her dress, slipping it down to rest on her frame. He tied each ribbon, drawing the fasteners together assuring that everything was in place before he'd tend to his own dressing. She was the very picture of loveliness.

He'd slipped on his trousers and was reaching for his shirt when he felt a warm, gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at her.

"Thank you Erik…" Christine began to gush. "Thank you for listening to me. Thank you for bringing me here. Thank you for the paintings, for the love and compassion with which you treated me." She stared into his eyes, she would not look away though her humility begged her to…it was so very forward of her. She swallowed and continued. "Thank you most of all…for giving me you. You are all I shall ever need in this life my love…all I shall ever want…thank you for having courage enough for the both of us."

Erik stood looking down at her. Her tenderness, her gentleness, her goodness, oozing out of her. "Christine…..I love you." He kissed her tenderly. It was a precious moment.

Erik's head snapping sharply as he looked over his shoulder. They'd both heard it. The door at the back of the woman's house opened and closed.

They heard footsteps coming down the hall, a voice calling out. "Monsieur Stephan?" Erik smiled, surely this young man would have brought news from Nadir, and he would be anxious to know the reply. It would determine what they would do in the very next hour, for if they'd not be preparing to receive Nadir, Madame Giry, and Meg at the Opera House, he would see to sending the young man back out to retrieve them all a quite proper dinner.

Erik quickly slipped on his shirt, donning his robe to meet the young man at the entry to the room. Christine took up a cup from the table, tea now long cold, making the scene quite innocent to the casual glance.

"Monsieur!" the young man stammered a bit startled as Erik flung the heavy drapery up and over a large hook to the side of the entry. He bowed just slightly, not yet knowing the fine manners that a simple nod of the head could impart. "I'm to deliver this note in response, with a gentle greeting from Nadir. He said he is rather looking forward to seeing you….you both." He said, looking over Erik's shoulder at Christine who sat playing he perfect part, raising the cup of cold liquid up to her lips, but never taking so much as one swallow for the very scent and thought of cold tea nauseated her. She smiled at him.

The young man stood there casually after producing the note and giving it to Erik. Suddenly not aware of what to do with his hands as he awaited further instruction. Folded in front of him, they looked too much like a choir boy, tucked behind him, he looked more like conductor…out of frustration he dropped them heavily to his sides, keeping his fingers straight and rigid…he looked a bit like a toy soldier. The corner of Erik's mouth flickered at the humor of it.

"That will be all just now." Erik turned away, then turned back, flipping the note in his hand. "Does the woman return now?"

The young man looked relieved, finally something he felt adequately prepared to respond to. "Yes, she is not long behind me, perhaps five minutes or so." He smiled and departed.

Christine put the cup, nay, the prop, back in its saucer, patting the spot on the divan she wished Erik to sit.

Though Erik had seen her gesture, he'd try to ignore it. He'd want to view the contents first, and then decide how much he would share with Christine. He opened the card, pacing toward the fire, not noticing that Christine's previously sunny expression had faded.

The papers open in his hand as he read:

Dear Stephan: I thank you for your most encouraging note, though I dare say the true purpose for your visit to Paris just now, considering the storm and its remnants, is somewhat perplexing. Regardless of what brings you to the City, I can assure you that Madame Giry and Meg will be most excited to converse with you when we arrive this afternoon. Since the trip is not long, but just now rather tedious, we shall make a variety of purposes for it so as not to tire the service of the staff of our most gracious host. Madame Giry has want to examine further the accommodations being prepared for she and Meg at the Opera House. It will take us but a few hours to travel in, and perhaps several more for Madame Giry to explore. I myself have need to travel to the office of the magistrate. Perhaps dinner at the location you suggested would be most suitable; Madame Giry knew just the place you were discussing. She too had mentioned it had been a long while since you'd both been there. Meg too looks forward to the visit. I am to tell you that we are all rather well, and share the good news, though perhaps being in Paris you may have already learned of it. Our Raoul is something of a hero, having foiled an attack oh his household. It seems the Crawlings family has finally come to an end. I can share more of the details when we meet. He would very much like to see the two of you again, and had considered joining us for our visit, though the physician who treated the gash at the back of his head, had suggested otherwise. Perhaps one day very soon he will be up to his desire of paying you a visit at the winter house. As for today, it will be only the three of us. In deepest regards, Nadir.

"In deepest regards…" Erik mumbled under his breath. That meant that there could be complications and that he was to proceed with great caution. His thoughts raced….Raoul had been planning to come with them? He planned to pay a visit to the winter house! Erik's pulse was suddenly anything but normal. It had been his pretext…the final reason he needed to move his family, in spite of the obvious protests the idea was certain to raise in Christine, back to Courtland Manor. It was safe there, and decidedly far enough from Paris and Chauesser for that matter, to provide them the privacy that he so craved…at the very least until the end of Christine's confinement. His lashes flickered, he looked up at Christine. "They are coming to Paris…this very night!"

Christine leapt into Erik's arms. "Oh my love, I am so very excited!"

Erik began to chuckle, not even trying to hide his obvious pleased amusement at Christine's reaction. She'd flung her arms around his mid-section, rubbing her cheek along the exposed flesh of his chest. "They are coming….my dear Meg….Madame Giry….Nadir…they are coming…." Her voice trailed off.

"Now my dear, we must be ready. We will have to travel, and since he indicated they'd other items that had also to be completed during their visit, it is safe to say it will be an evening engagement." He smiled, he'd said it loudly enough for the pair of ears that waited outside the room to hear.

"Young man?" Erik called out.

He appeared almost instantly at the entrance to the room. "Monsieur?"

Erik grinned, the boy still didn't know what to do with his hands, fumbling with them as he tried to stand properly. "Young man, how far did you say that Erphan and the woman were behind you?"

He grinned, "just five minutes sir…perhaps a bit more." He said amending his previous statement since five minutes time had come and gone.

Erik smiled at him, not a condescending smile, but one that told the young man that he had room for growth, but no need for concern. "My wife and I will be traveling this evening, for a few brief hours for a visit. When Erphan returns, please let him know of our intentions won't you?" Erik paused, "Furthermore, I should like very much to have a visit with the woman when she returns. You will give my wife and I the courtesy of some privacy with her when she arrives."

The young man nodded, understanding that though the words were chosen to sound like a request, the tone with which they were delivered indicated they were an order. "Yes monsieur, I shall see to it."

Erik and Christine were alone once more. "He is a bit rough around the edges, but he too has potential…with proper instruction of course." Erik said as he turned to look at Christine. Her face was ashen. He went to her, immediately taking her hand in his. "What is it?"

She looked up at him. It was not fear that rose in her eyes, but a bit more a curious, serious, wonder. "The vision…" she took her hand back and began to pace. "Crawlings is dead to be sure, but what of what I saw? Shall it be safe?" She asked a question she knew he could not answer. She shook her head. "He is dead…he can cause us no harm now.." She walked passed Erik, lifting the tray with the tea pot, collecting the tea cups. It was idle distraction for what truly ran through her mind. Why had it been so very vivid, so real…had their early reaction preempted what would have eventually happened had they not come? Her eyes met Erik's as she moved toward the doorway. "Perhaps we will know more when Nadir and Meg arrive…" she stammered. It was the only sensible thing to do now. She moved passed him and down the hall. She'd not have her host thinking them to be most untidy houseguests…not someone who had quite obviously meant a great deal to Erik over the years.

XXXX

Nadir sat across from Meg. He had originally given the two ladies the larger of the two seats to share, but Meg had felt faint, and he and Madame Giry had allowed Meg to recline in it, thus effectively relegating them to share the one small seat that Nadir had occupied alone until just minutes ago. Now the two were seated, rather comfortably next to one another. Somewhere along the way Nadir had slipped his hand beneath his cloak and found Madame Giry's hand. She'd not refused, which likely accounted for her unusually rosy hue that colored her porcelain cheeks.

Meg lay all the while trying not to reveal herself, for she was no more tired than she was hungry. The ruse had provided an adequate excuse to persuade her mother and Nadir to spend a bit more time in one another's close proximity. Meg was saying to herself, "do not smile, do not smile, do not smile," for she'd betray herself. Finally, she could take it no longer. She sighed and flipped herself over as if she were in her own bed, deep in slumber. Now comfortably facing the back of the seat she tucked her head down smiling profusely. It was time, she decided much without her mother's consent, for the two of them to find the happiness that they had denied for far too long.

XXXX

Erik and Christine rose as the woman came into the room. She was bearing gifts, small tokens really, of her visit to the shops that afternoon. She'd a lovely hair pin for Christine, a long gold pin with a glittering heart. "The jeweler thought it odd to be buying such a thing at this time of year, but did not question her motives when the money found its way into his pockets. For Erik, he had easily guessed as he looked at the fancy foil, that she'd brought him another box of chocolates, the violet ones. "You simply must have some to take home with you!" She exclaimed.

They graciously and gratefully took the gifts from the woman, the obvious pleasure in the giving was her reward, they'd not be depriving her of it. The three sat and talked for a long while, consuming the fresh pineapple that she'd brought back with her from a market that had just received its first shipment of goods since the storm had made trade nearly impossible. They savored each bite over good conversation.

"Now, it is fortuitous, that you should have plans that will take you away from here for several hours, I shan't be much company as I've a few projects to finish." Her face turning toward Erik. "If you do not mind my being such a terrible host, I shan't mind not finding a proper table for dinner, since you will be no doubt joining them for a meal."

Erik laughed, "dear lady, do not think me to be so callous a guest. Yes, my wife and I will dine with her relatives, of that I am quite certain, but I've taken care of arrangements, I hope you do not find it too forward, to have a suitable dinner delivered here for the three of you."

The woman didn't want to smile, indicating that she was both relieved and pleased with this his words. "You'd no need to do such things, it is.."

Erik laughed, "you are right, I'd no need. But indeed they are my staff, and you had no need to take all of us in…it is my pleasure to offer a small token of our gratitude."

She smiled once more. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've need to go to my sewing room." She rose, as did Erik and Christine. She called over her shoulder as she left the room. "Has he told you of the one of the young woman in the field of iris?" She laughed, "that one was always my favorite." And then she was gone.

Christine cocked her head to one side, "a field of iris?" She didn't remember seeing that one. Then she realized what the woman meant. It had been what she'd seen on the walls…beyond the paintings…the actual walls themselves had been painted with greens and flowers…and now that she thought about it…yes, she was quiet certain they had been iris! They'd been more like a shadowed picture, a ghostly image of the flowers overlaid on a rather ordinary surface.

She turned to look at him. His face was wide and smiling, his eyes tilted and confessing. "Every young woman deserves a secret garden…and this my dear…was yours." He blinked several times. It seemed that there would never be an end to the things he might have to confess to her…he only wondered when or if…it would be too much for her.

Without a word, she reached out for his hand, leading him back once more. They had a bit of time, the sun was slowly sinking in the sky, at least an hour, maybe two. Perhaps she would like to know more about the pictures…but she'd be certain to save at least three of them…giving them reason to return there…..someday.


	179. All Things Making Their Way

Chapter179 All Things Making Their Way 

Nicole and her mother made their way down the stairs and to the back of the Inn. The doctor stood rather abruptly, as if he were a guard found sleeping on his watch, straightening his waistcoat. As he saw them approach, he felt an odd sort of twinge in his stomach; these women would become his quasi family while he was in Chauesser for the first half of his obligatory year at least, and something about that thought was entirely pleasing. The City itself had never felt like home, and somehow he imagined that being of some great use on a personal level to a tight-knit family, would ease his loneliness.

He began gathering his books, filing the loose pages into bound volumes of more complete works. Seemingly not the most organized method, but it was one piece of advice his grandfather had given him; put together a library based on what you need to know, and continue adding to it. All texts and published works from journals on any particular subject or malady, all put together in one place. It would be the way he was certain to practice, for he could see the logic in it. It was yet another time that same day that he thought his grandfather would be smiling at him.

"Thank you…" Nicole said as she approached the doctor, her mother close in tow.

"How are we feeling?" he inquired as the woman passed him, smiling awkwardly up into his concerned glance.

"There have been better days doctor, but I shall enjoy this one for what it is. I am most certain they do not grow longer nor better from here forward." She glanced down, and except that she bit the corner of her lip, obviously distraught though fighting it, one would never know what shadow had befallen her.

Her words were wise, and matter-of-fact. He rather imagined that was just her way, brutally honest. The doctor could make no argument with them, though he'd have preferred a bit more optimism. Perhaps it was the woman's very tenacity that gave her such courage; he could only hope that it would serve her well.

Though he'd not read far enough today in his texts to the discussion of outcomes, he knew it by heart… "eventual collapse of the respiratory system, decreased heart activity, eventual coma followed days after by death." He pressed his eyes closed as he held the door open for the women. Now he was chastising himself for dwelling on the negative.

Once outside he helped first her mother, and then Nicole into the sleigh, climbing in behind them. If it had been him alone, he'd likely have traveled on foot, but he could not have asked these women to do so. It would have been a difficult task physically for the woman that was certain, but it wasn't his primary concern just now. He could only imagine the excruciatingly pitiful irony of trudging through the snow, to the undertaker would be now….especially after what they had already endured. The mind was an important part of the health of the body, and he'd no want to cause either further injury.

The ride to the undertaker was made in silence. There was nothing to discuss, and frivolous, idle chatter seemed entirely superfluous just now. Everyone knew where they were going, and what needed to be done. None could have imagined exactly how very little there was left to do, or who had already come forward to make arrangements.

The doctor glanced across the seat at Nicole. She held her mother in her arms, head resting against her shoulder, eyes closed. There was something sad about it. Not where they were traveling, but that the woman was finally coming to accept that her own body was wearing out; her long denied symptoms and suspicions had been confirmed. She was accepting them, and it looked a bit like it had already defeated her, the doctor thought to himself. He turned staring out the window. The sun reflecting off of the snow was nearly blinding.

The sleigh came to a stop in front of the singular building on that part of the street. It was large, sectioned into two parts. The rear, which was their destination, was designed to be rather unobtrusive really. White clapboard, several smallish windows, and a formal though short walk from the circle where carriages or sleighs could turn around. The largest part of the structure was one where family gathered for reviews. It's slender white spires made it look rather like a church, pierced the sky. It was seemingly even taller since it was situated on a bit of a hill, the back part was nearly invisible from the front, which is just the way everyone liked it.

Without so much as a word, the doctor dismounted the sleigh, reaching out to take Nicole's hand to help her disembark. They both turned, taking a hand of Nicole's mother helping her descend. She nearly buckled as her foot first hit the ground. Her weakness alone could be attributed to a variety of things. What troubled her now was the thought that several days ago she sat chatting with her mother by the fire, and now…she was preparing to have her buried…it was overwhelming.

Nicole reached out instinctively to catch her mother, but before she'd even had time to catch her, the doctor had scooped the woman up into his arms and was carrying her toward the door. "It is a bit slippery on this walk, and we've no need for you to break a bone dear lady. Besides," he said smiling down at her rather disapproving and embarrassed face, "you shan't mind a ride shall you?"

The woman was truly aghast. She wasn't certain if she was more embarrassed at her obvious emotions, or the fact that she was being carried into an undertaker. Something about the last thought was morbidly funny, as it spread through her consciousness, she began to laugh. It startled her, and the doctor. Nicole rushed to her side, snapping out of her own stupor at what had just happened, thinking her mother to be overcome with grief and fits of tears. When she reached her side, she found her laughing. A look somewhere between distraught and confused crossed Nicole's face. "Mother?" she said with a curious look on her brow, a note of uncertainty in her voice.

The woman was still laughing as the doctor put his first footstep on the walk that led to the undertaker's door. He'd seen this reaction before; grief often has very strange ways of manifesting itself.

"You have to admit…" her voice was broken by the laughter… "there is nothing like planning ahead, though I do think I've a few months really, and I don't think that the undertaker will take kindly to my perching myself at his back door awaiting service." Her laughter overtook her.

Nicole's brow furrowed, her lips and face went cold. There was nothing of any humor in her mother's statement, but the woman's laughter was infectious, and by the time they reached the door, Nicole holding it open for the doctor who chivalrously carried her mother inside, was laughing herself.

The undertaker was moving away from his lunch as he heard the bell over the door signal that they had company. His office had seen a steady stream of business so far that day. In addition to Andre, and Misty, there had been a number of other citizens that had come forward offering to help with the arrangements for the woman. It was no secret in a hamlet this size, how very poor the woman's family was. Though he could easily have benefited from the influx, he knew he'd be found out, and even more loathed than before. Not that the citizens of Chauesser had any real choice, he being the only undertaker in the City, but he did, after all, have to live amongst them.

"May I help…" the man's voice dropping off as he saw the doctor putting the woman to her feet, Nicole standing next to her.

"I'm here for the arrangements about my mother." She said flatly, her humor now gone.

"I see…" the undertaker was assessing the situation, not being certain who might be taking the lead, but watched with understanding eyes as the doctor and Nicole took seats on the opposite end of the room. "Do come this way dear lady, we can talk in private."

Nicole looked down at her hands as she began to fumble with the folds of her skirt. Her mother had been very specific before they'd ever left the inn. She wanted to do this alone, though Nicole couldn't imagine why.

The doctor looked over at Nicole, feeling a bit flushed as he sat there with her in silence. She had a perfect profile, porcelain skin, and lips that were a fair pink and slightly puffy and rounded. It was almost distracting sitting that close to her.

They could hear the muffled conversation on the other side of the wall, and then the chairs scuffing on the floor, a door opening and closing, and then there was nothing. They both knew what the woman would have requested…she wanted to see her mother, no matter how unpleasant it would be. In several minutes more they could hear a very muffled sound of someone crying.

Nicole's lip began to quiver, a sudden rush of tears spilling out onto her cheeks. Without a thought, the doctor reached out and slipped his hands around Nicole's, caressing it tenderly. Nicole's eyes flashed at him, a temporary distraction from the throws of her own grief.

"Do not worry Nicole. Life by its very nature is painful from beginning to end. We struggle to be born, we in fact come out of our own mother's womb crying from the horror of the experience, being thrust unwillingly into a new world. Then, there is the pain of growing, becoming accustomed to a body that changes with every sunrise. Then, there is the eventual process of aging and degeneration, followed by the natural outcome of a deteriorating life form, we die."

He patted her hand, looking into her eyes, somehow knowing this rudimentary explanation provided little if any real comfort to her.

"What I meant to convey Nicole, is that though this is difficult, it is a process that everyone must go through. Every circumstance is not the same, some more unfortunate than others," he glanced toward the doorway that her mother had passed through. "Grief is meant to be a means of physical release for the mind. Yes, you will and should have want to comfort your mother, but do not pity her, it will do nothing if not intensify her own guilt for burdening you with her troubles. Be there for her. Though you may sit in silence holding her hand, and feel as if you are doing little for her, you will in truth be giving her precisely what she needs." He glanced back at Nicole. Her eyes were still brimming but she nodded in acknowledgement. The doctor reached out putting his hand alongside Nicole's cheek, guiding her head to his shoulder.

Nicole didn't fight it. It was one human comforting another human, and she needed it desperately just now. There the pair sat, the doctor holding Nicole's hand, her head leaned on his shoulder…waiting. There was nothing more to do now than wait until her mother reappeared.

Nicole was grateful all over again. The two newest members to the City of Chauesser, had become the two greatest allies she had found since she'd arrived there some years before. How very odd the twists that fate takes…providing just what you need, at the precise moment it is needed.

XXXXX

Misty finally came to rest in a chair in the kitchen. She had poured herself a cup of tea, and was entirely thankful that the two cooks who had been there before had retired to their quarters for a late afternoon nap. She sat with her head in her hands, rubbing at her temples. She'd had the last few hours alone in the master suite, cleaning and primping it. She was quite pleased in having that finished. She'd taken a pot of floral leaves and spices up to the room, and built a small fire perching the pot over the flames. It would imbue the room with a wonderful fragrance, furthering the inviting ambiance of the room. Something about doing that for Stephan and Elizabeth brought her great pleasure…it was as if their happiness and pleasure in it was somehow an extension of her own happiness.

The day had been long, and the wait until sunset would be seemingly longer. If they did not arrive by nightfall, there was an excellent chance that they would not arrive until the morrow. She sighed. Stephan was certain to be irritated by the announcement of unexpected visitors. She'd rather hoped that they would return that day so she might have opportunity to tell him herself. The house was being readied, as she knew he would have instructed if he'd been there. She supposed for now that was all she could do until their return.

She glanced up as she heard a pair of feet coming down the hall. It was the young man that had accompanied her into Chauesser. She smiled blandly.

"Would you mind terribly if I joined you?" He said with a sheepish grin.

"Not at all," she said, "do have some tea won't you?"

The young man nodded and found his way to the stove and counter, preparing a cup for himself. "It's pleasant really…." He said glancing over his shoulder as he poured the hot water into his cup, "knowing that the mysterious Lady C is paying a visit on us."

Misty shot him a fiery glance, quickly retreating…there was no way for him to have known what she knew about the goings on in Chauesser, and their master's opinion of it.

"Pleasant yes, under most circumstances it would be an honor. But I dare say our Monsieur is a rather private man. Since he's not all that familiar with what Lady C means to this City, or impressed by her wealth," Misty's eyes were roaming the kitchen with every fine appointment his own winter house had, it paled in comparison to the fineries at Courtland Manor. "He is more likely to find this unexpected visit more of an irritation and inconvenience than he is to find it an honor."

The young man was joining Misty at the table. "Why do you think that is…that he has such a mysterious past…as if he came from nowhere." He said, blowing to cool his tea just slightly so as to take his first sip.

Misty had all manner of speculations about that very subject, all of which she would be keeping to herself just now, not knowing which if any would be true. "I don't know, but I do know he believes everyone must contribute whatever they are able, doing what deeds are within their ability for the greater good of all those around them." She took another sip of her tea.

"He is extremely well educated, does anyone know where he studied, where he came from before he made his home here?" The young man was just curious, indeed, no more curious than everyone else in the master's employ, but perhaps a bit more brazen, and brave enough to ask the question that everyone else was thinking, but not posing.

Misty shook her head no. She'd no idea. "I think it best we concentrate on what we do know about him. He's a man who guards his privacy, he has a very wonderful wife, he takes good care of all of us, and does not seem to like surprises." Misty looked down at her cup.

The young man was beginning to understand. "And you see Lady C's visit as a surprise….one he's not likely to enjoy?"

Misty looked at him with a most serious eye, "yes, that is exactly how I see it. I only hope that they return early enough for us to send a polite letter of declination before she makes the journey here. I doubt very much she would take well to being rebuffed at the outer gate to the winter house!"

The young man just nodded. There was so much he had to learn about the master of the house…and he was determined to be an asset to him, not a detriment.

XXXXX

The Opera House was busy on the level were the remodeled dormitories for the staff had just been opened for occupation that very afternoon. There was a bit of quibbling going on over several of the perceivably nicer rooms, but for the most part, the staff were simply grateful to be moving out of the storage areas that they had made make-shift communal rooms until their quarters were ready. The dinner was nearly ready, as everyone flitted here and there carrying their personal items to their respective rooms.

Several floors below, there was also a flurry of activity. The man had only had company but once, and that was the very woman he was now planning to entertain again the day after tomorrow.

He'd always kept rather tidy quarters, but that had been for his own benefit. There had been nothing in his room that was not functional, and he had to admit it was rather drab. He'd gone about borrowing a few items from the props department. A bright daffodil tablecloth, a number of crystal candlesticks of varying shapes and sizes, a trio of mirrors, and pair of more comfortable chairs. He'd furthermore taken several potted ivy from the hall near the back entrance. He'd have them returned before sunrise on Monday when Firmin and Andre would arrive. The room was looking rather cheery he thought, a bit of color and light reflecting from the mirrors. Now all he had to see to was a decent menu. He'd have to travel to the market…and perhaps the barber. He wanted to make this experience as pleasant as possible for her…so she'd not dread the others. He sighed. At least he would have pleasant conversation for four of the nights that he'd be in this place.

XXXX

She was finally resting in her normal perch, staring out the window at the City. She'd tired herself, playing for hours as the staff had labored in silence preparing all of the things that was requested of them. She'd refused lunch when it came. The bowl of vegetable broth and honeyed bread lay cold and untouched until just an hour ago, when the staff had retrieved it.

She'd played everything from the favorites in her repertoire, all from memory, as pleasant scenes from her life passed through her mind. There was just something about music that made everything feel real….alive. And it could draw her back to a place and time more swiftly than anything else she knew.

She'd thought of her grandfather, in the dark of his study banging in frustration on the keys of the piano, followed precipitously by a round of muffled tears, and then something a bit more light hearted. It was almost a daily ritual with him, even when he had company. She'd guessed it to be something of a drug for him, perhaps a bit like morphine to ease his pains. She sighed.

She'd always looked forward to her visits with him with a bit of intrigue and despair. He was brilliant, and moody, but yet loving and compassionate with her. The study was always dark when he'd permit her to join him, his voice was kind and gentle. She never minded sitting in his lap as he told her great stories of castles and kings, dragons and princesses, damsels in distress and knights with shining armor. He was a gifted story teller, and no two were alike, nor like anything she'd ever heard before, or after. The darkness of the visits didn't really bother her, in fact she was quite old by the time she'd first questioned it. It had been made clearly known to her that it was just not she that was not permitted to see him in the full light of day, but all others. The only exceptions were his wife and son - her father.

He had been a wonderful man, and she wondered what it had been that had made him so unhappy that he'd locked himself away for so many years in darkness. There had only been one hint…one suspicion she'd had from one visit in particular.

She was six and a half, almost seven. It was the fall of the year, and the leaves were crisp and colorful, creating a carpet of crimson, orange, and chartreuse in the woods behind her grandfather's house. She'd come for a visit, and admittedly she was a bit early, and a bit more than anxious to see him. He'd started a story that he'd not finished on their last visit, and she simply could not wait to hear how it ended. She'd shot out of the carriage that had delivered her to the house, her governess her only supervisor that day. She'd gone straight away to the only room she'd ever found him in, flinging open the doors without so much as a knock.

She saw his figure, staring out the large wall of windows overlooking the back lawn that blended rather closely to the forest just beyond the house. She'd heard a gasp, and a growl, and for a brief second, she saw a face, it looked distraught and as though it had been burned by a great fire. She couldn't be sure that her youthful eyes weren't playing tricks on her.

He'd run from the room, slamming the door to the hallway at the back. She'd heard him yelling at someone. There was a trio of maids that had flurried into the room through the doors she'd left carelessly open behind her. They quickly ran to the windows dropping the heavy drapery across them. Her governess came rushing in, chastising her for her impertinence.

She'd been immediately remorseful, tears quickly bursting forth as she realized she'd hurt her grandfather's feelings, and broken the one and only one rule he had given her. Soon everything was set in place, her eyes dried, her dress straightened and he had reentered the room.

"Dearest do not be afraid, I am not angry with you. Come, come, let us set about finishing that story shall we?"

She'd been relieved by his tone, and quick forgiveness, venturing eagerly over to nestle herself in his lap. Somewhere during the story her curious hand had wandered up to his chest, as it had hundreds of times before. She always leaned her cheek on her hand, and it against his chest. This day she'd done so out of burning curiosity. Slowly she'd raised her hand inch by inch until she was twirling the ends of his cravat with her fingers. He seemed not to take notice, though she was certain now he'd have found that entirely irritating.

In a second she regretted her actions yet again that day. Her curious hand dropping his silken cravat, flashed, though gently, up to the cheek she'd thought she'd seen in the light. He had suddenly grown stiff and his words stopped abruptly. There had been a moment of terrifying silence as her hand carefully wandered the flesh of his cheek. It was smooth, yet rough in places. She'd thought to venture further up the side of his cheek, but a firm hand collected hers into his, placing it back down in her lap. In her childish wonder she asked the most innocent question.

"Does it hurt grandfather?" She'd heard him sob just once. "I'm sorry grandfather…" she'd began to cry too, "I won't ever ask again. I love you."

Lady C sat staring blankly out the window. Even now, so very many years later, it saddened her. She and her grandfather never spoke of it again, and she learned a valuable lesson that day. Loving her grandfather meant that she'd not question his methods or motives, but instead appreciate the time he'd been willing to so lovingly extend to her. She sighed. He'd been a wonderful man, and she'd adored him more than she had her own father.

Her attentions quickly shifted. She'd heard the door at the back of the house hours before, and was certain she'd heard Andre's voice in the outer rooms. She wondered why he'd yet to present himself. She was eager to learn of the response to her visit, and if he'd been able to take care of all the things she'd requested of him. She reached over, and for the first time that day she lifted the silver bell ringing it.

The maid nearly toppled into the door, obviously she'd been stationed just outside for hours. "Madame?" she said smiling politely.

"I wish to speak to Andre, he has returned has he not?" She inquired.

"Yes my lady, he has," she paused, "would you like me to bring you a fresh pot of tea?" She looked hopeful that she could bring her something a bit more.

Lady C smiled at the young woman. "Yes the tea would be lovely, and a second cup for Andre. The other things will wait until after my visit with him."

The maid curtsied and disappeared down the hall.

Lady C turned back once more gazing out the window. The sun had given the most sumptuous rays of amber, copper, and crimson, imbued with a bit of a sapphire tinge as it set in the Western sky. It had been a beautiful day, and now it gave way to a beautiful night.

XXXXX

Erik and Christine had wandered through the parlor for nearly an hour. They'd finally reclined in the foyer, of all places, watching the sunset through the beveled glass windows. They'd rather enjoyed coming together under the colored tones that light filtered through glass stained with color provided. It was a feeling that came over them whenever they saw it, and they were drawn to it like moths to a flame.

They'd listened as they heard the woman whistling as she worked; something that was entirely familiar to Erik. When he had visited with the woman, interaction was not always required of the pair. They each truly did appreciate more fully than anyone else he'd ever known, the comfort of solitude. But it had made both very happy to know that just several rooms away was a living, breathing person, who they could visit with whenever they were so moved to. It had been part of their ritual whenever he was there.

Erik's glance turned as he heard what could only be Erphan coming down the hall.

"Monsieur, Madame, the sleigh is ready for your trip. I shall be outside when you are ready. The sun is nearly set." He nodded to them and turned and departed.

Erik kissed Christine's forehead. "That is our cue my dear. Are you ready?"

Christine turned herself around in the warmth of his embrace, running her arms around his middle, nestling her head in his chest. "I am ready, as long as these warm arms are there to hold me, I am ready for anything."

Erik smiled, rising to his feet, bringing Christine with him. Erphan had dutifully returned with their cloaks in his hand, extending them to Erik. Then he departed down the hall and out the door.

"Now, we must bundle you up warm. The sun provided warmth while it shone in the sky, but I've no doubt that there will be a damp chill in the air when we venture outside."

Christine nodded. Allowing Erik to pull her cloak around her, affixing it at her neck.

Erik leaned down, brushing a delicate kiss along her cheekbone. "Come my love, there are those who are most eager to see you." His eyes were twinkling.

Christine smiled at him once more, looking up into his eyes with such gratitude, she'd need say nothing further.

Erik slipped on his own cloak, took Christine's arm and walked down the hall. They paused momentarily in front of the woman's sewing room. "We are off then dear lady," Erik called out not disturbing the curtain for he'd not want Christine to see what was going on inside.

"Have a wonderful evening dear. Do not worry for the hour of your return. We can have a nice visit on the morrow, I'm afraid I might be up all night, and you would only be a distraction!"

Erik laughed at the interjected humor in her words. "Very well then, on the morrow we shall have a proper visit." Inside he was relieved. He'd no sense of urgency to return now, they could take as long as they pleased at the Opera House.

The door opened, Erphan extending his hand to Elizabeth, "do watch your step, it is rather dark just here," he guided her down the steps.

Erik gave him a knowing glance, indeed, the boy was learning.

XXXX

Madame Giry and Meg had wandered the dormitories while they'd waited for Nadir to return to join them. Taking full advantage of the privacy that they had, Meg had been openly speculating about which rooms in the dorm would cause a fight, and who was likely to be rooming with whom, since each bedroom housed two girls.

They'd sat a long while with a pot of tea in the great room, looking out at the City of Paris as the sun had begun to set. Truly, it was the best vantage point for viewing the rising of the sun, but they were amazed at how beautiful it was to watch as the City lost the daylight, and the colored hues of the sun set bathed the buildings with a glowing pink, gold, and auburn. Madame Giry smiled to herself, knowing that Erik would be exceedingly pleased.

Now back in their private quarters, Madame Giry and Meg wandered out onto the veranda. Truly it was far too cool to be out-of-doors, but they'd bundled up, wanting now to appreciate that last of the colors on the Western horizon.

Meg smiled up at her mother. Something about the cloak of the darkening sky made her feel more brave. "I sensed a bit of tension when I returned to the parlor earlier today mother, is everything alright between you and Nadir?"

Madame Giry could feel her face flush. "Why ever would you have to ask, you know that we are on the most reasonable terms." She was going to avoid the issue as long as she could.

Meg smiled, she expected as much. "I was but a bit curious that is all."

"Ladies…" Nadir's familiar voice greeted them from within the suite. "It is time."

Madame Giry and Meg looked at each other, a great look of anticipation in their eyes. They embraced briefly before they turned to join Nadir. They'd be visiting with their friends in a short while, and they could only imagine the reunion they would have.

They joined Nadir, neither removing their outer garments. It would be cold where they would be going, and in truth they'd have to make it appear that they were leaving so as to protect their real interest in being at the Opera House. They were grateful for the distraction of the move taking place just floors below. Everyone would be duly distracted, making their travels much easier.

XXXX

Erik had Erphan drop he and Christine just a block from the Opera House, in front of a rather large restaurant. Then he was instructed to go one block to the East to a place where a meal for he, JP, and the woman would be waiting for him to retrieve. It was her favorite restaurant, thus providing proper excuse for the additional journey.

Erik waited until the sleigh disappeared from view before he guided Christine quickly to the back of the Opera House. He was thankful, Madame Giry had remembered to leave the door unlatched, as she had so many times before when she knew him to be arriving late. He and Christine slipped in without incident, and quickly made their way to the dressing room, and through the secret panel in the wall.

Christine's breath caught in her chest as Erik led her down this corridor, as he had so many months before, though this time it was in utter darkness, but she was not afraid. It was like visiting a ghost from a past life, it felt eerily familiar, yet comforting.

Erik, sensing Christine's hesitation, stopped and embraced her, kissing her tenderly, rubbing his hand along her back as he brought her head to his chest. "This must be difficult for you." A twinge of guilt in his voice for not having thought of it sooner.

"No, not difficult….just different. Both times I was going to be with my dream…" she paused, looking up at him in the darkness, "this time, and the last, and now I am yours, wholly, and completely yours. The hesitancy you feel my love, is not of trepidation, but merely my embracing the idea fully in my mind….that indeed, my heart-felt longings have finally come true."

Erik's eyes were damp as he kissed Christine in earnest, his lips grazing hers and then her cheekbone, and then her neck, her collarbone, and then coming to rest just below her ear at the corner of her jaw. Oh how he'd wished he knew how long they had before their company arrived…..


	180. Anticipation

Chapter 180 Anticipation 

Dear Faithfuls: Happy New Year to everyone in the Phamily! I will be updating again on Tuesday, January 3rd. Have a safe, happy, and wonderful new year holiday…wherever you are!

Raoul rolled over to his back. He'd barely lifted his head, and it was throbbing. He groaned. He was sweating profusely, a common side affect for him…when he had morphine. True, he'd only had a few times before, but he knew instinctively that he must be under its cloud or he'd not feel as dizzy nor as hot as he did just now.

He struggled to right himself, but quickly had a change of heart when his head began to pound the further he rose. He'd at least put himself on his back, giving his chest a chance to cool. He threw off his covers, opening his shirt, and then rolled to his back. It was reflex really that made him roll once more to his stomach. The pain of his swollen scalp had been severely irritated by the pressure of laying on it.

He tried to think through the fog of the drug…remember what happened. His hand slowly rising to investigate what caused his head such pain. His eyes grew wide when he found the patch of hair that had been shaved clean from his head. It was only hair he reassured himself, as his finger slowly moved over the tender parts. He could feel the stitches, and raised ridge of skin that puckered under the tension of the catgut.

He closed his eyes, and though sleep beckoned him, he tried to focus on what events had led up to this point. He opened his eyes once more, searching the room. He saw the doctor, sound asleep on the divan. His eyes searched further, hoping not to find Meg perched uncomfortably on a chair somewhere keeping vigil. Much to his relief, she was not there.

He glanced toward the window. He could see no light cast under the curtains, surely it was even now nightfall, and if that were so, he'd slept the entire day away. Though that would normally have disgusted him at his own laziness, his irritation with his own weakness was tempered by the fact that he was entirely glad to be alive. He closed his eyes once more.

He could see it vividly in his minds-eye. He had just walked out onto the veranda. No one had accompanied him, and he'd wanted to check on the carriage house. He recalled lifting his hand to his eyes, in order to shield them from the light of the fire, when he heard it; two gun shots. He remembered wanting to reach for his gun, but his own sense of self-preservation had taken over, and he'd thrown himself once more to the ground, and that was all he could remember until Nadir and the doctor were hovering over him in the study.

He vaguely remembered the stitches, and the syringe full of medicine the doctor had administered. He furrowed his brow. One more thing he'd remembered…he thought he'd seen him…seen him in the shadows… Raoul's heart began to pound. Had it been him, come back for him? Had depriving him of Christine not been enough? Had he come back yet to avenge the challenge that Raoul had offered him? But if that were so…where had he gone? Was Christine in danger, was she dead, was he there to return her, was he there….was he there at all, or had it been his morose imagination torturing him from the depths just when he'd thought to have found happiness with Meg? His conscience dragging at his soul for daring to find love again?

His head was throbbing even more now. He gasped. He tugged at his shirt, being careful not to lift his head too far, the pain was far too great when he did. Once removed, he took the shirt in his hand, dabbing at his forehead and chest. He lay there a long while feeling a great thirst, but knowing he could do little to relieve it. His eyes now searched the ceiling.

He found himself wondering why the house was so quiet, and if it were the middle of the night. That would indeed explain Meg's absence. After all, it had been at his behest that they not spend another night together, no matter the circumstances, until they were married. He now found himself wishing he'd never uttered the words, even though he knew he'd said them for all of the proper reasons. He'd want no shadow of doubt to be cast on Meg's suitability to marry beyond her class, even though that mattered little to him. It seemed to be an eternity he laid there before the doctor stirred, looking over at Raoul.

He was quickly on his feet, pushing on his spectacles. He could tell from a distance even in the dimly lit room that Raoul had stirred long enough to remove the covers and his shirt, now laying bare chest exposed to the cool air. The doctor walked quietly over to Raoul, in the event that he'd somehow managed to fall back to sleep. Once at his side he smiled at him. "Good evening young man."

Raoul tried to manage a polite smile, though there was no reason to put on airs with the Barron. "Do tell me, how many were required?" He looked at the doctor, blinking as he tried to focus.

The doctor chuckled. "Twenty-one, the same as Meg." He said as he came to rest on the side of the bed, drawing his stethoscope from his bag, resting it on Raoul's chest. "You've been asleep all day, and I dare say that is my fault." The doctor already knowing that Raoul would be lashing himself for not having accomplished at least something of some substance today.

Raoul looked at him, waiting until the doctor was finished with the instrument before he spoke. "Morphine?"

The doctor nodded. "It was all that I'd had with me, although Meg had offered her bottle of pills for your comfort." The doctor was removing some gauze and a bottle of iodine from his kit, motioning for Raoul to roll to his stomach.

"What hour is it now?" Raoul said as he carefully pulled himself over, the doctor reaching down lifting and pushing at his back to assist him.

The doctor drew his pocket watch, clicking the cover from the face to look. "Nearly five." He snapped the cover closed, slipping it back into his breast pocket. He began dabbing a bit of the iodine on a soft cloth.

Raoul nestled his face down into the pillow. "I am surprised there is no sunrise yet, there should be some hint of it." Raoul stopped, "ouch!"

"I am dreadfully sorry Raoul. The skin is rather irritated. Though I've put in as straight a row of stitches as I could, I dare say the gash was anything but straight." The doctor was dabbing at it with gauze.

"Morning? No, no…" he laughed, "it is evening, near the dinner hour just now. If the sun rises now, I'd say we are in a very serious way, and this gash is the least of our concerns!"

Raoul's mind was already racing. "Where is Meg?" If it were five, she'd neither be having dinner, for dinner in his house was always served promptly at seven. He scowled, perhaps she herself was not feeling well. The stitches had been removed, but perhaps she was uncomfortable or self-conscious.

The doctor hesitated. He'd never lied to Raoul in the entirety of his life. It did not mean however, that he could not omit a bit of the truth for the time being. "She, along with all other members of your household have been instructed to give you your undisturbed rest. I've assured them that I would see to taking care of you, until the morrow. By then you should be feeling well enough to sit up. For tonight however, you shan't be doing anything other than having a bit of supper, and medicine, and going back to sleep." He'd made his statement with an authoritative, if not fatherly tone. There would be no arguing the plan.

"Are all well? Meg, Madame Giry, Nadir?" Raoul inquired.

The doctor took note of the obvious absence of his father from the list of those he was interested in. "Yes, they are all well, and your father also sends you his regards. He was most worried for you Raoul." The doctor was washing a bit of warm water around the hair that surrounded the stitched gash, being careful not to get them wet. "Supper should be delivered soon Raoul, and I shall help you. I trust you've already tried to sit up?"

Raoul was nodding, indeed he had, and the room had begun spinning. "I shan't be trying that again just now." He said sincerely.

The doctor laughed a bit more. "See, it is for your own good that I've sent your family away just now. You don't want to be looking as you do when your future bride and mother-in-law come to visit now do you?"

Raoul smiled. Somewhere along the line the doctor had either guessed or been told of his intentions to propose to Meg. He looked at the doctor with curious eyes.

The doctor smiled at him, knowing full well what was running through Raoul's mind. "It was your grandmother's ring…I'd have recognized it anywhere." He smiled once more as he began putting his things back into his onyx satchel.

"You often forget that I've known you, nay, your family for a good many years Raoul, and you've confided in me a great many things. That ring was to be given only to your intended as a precursor to an ring of engagement." He nodded at Raoul, he'd not forgotten.

Raoul could do nothing but smile. He was grateful that if he'd had to be sequestered to his room for the night, that his doctor…his friend…would be there with him. He could only imagine the agony that Meg was going through not being able to visit. But she was obedient he was certain, for his sake, and that made him smile. No doubt Nadir and her mother were keeping her entertained at this very moment.

The doctor stretched, a bit of relief washing over him. Raoul was quite coherent. His reflexes were good, his pain manageable. All very good first steps. He'd allow Raoul to eat, and then they'd have a conversation. Perhaps the subject of the events on the veranda would present themselves naturally. If not, he'd make mention of them. He needed to be certain that Raoul was not confused about what he'd seen, or what he'd done. Still, of all of that, what concerned him most was how Raoul would deal with the knowledge that he'd taken the life of another. That, he feared, would be the greatest battle of all.

XXXXXXX

The ride back to the Inn was nearly as silent as the ride to the undertaker had been. Nicole's mother had not said a word when she'd come out of the room with the undertaker. He'd bid them all a good day, laying a hand on the woman's shoulders. "It shall be as you said my dear lady. Do rest now, you look weary." Nicole had wondered what her mother had requested that had caused such a comment, but she'd not ask. It would either be told to her by her mother, or would be made evident soon enough.

As they approached the Inn, her mother said, "we've need to return home now Nicole. No doubt the doctor has others to tend to, and the Innkeeper, no matter how generous and reassuring, shan't mind being able to sleep in his own quarters this evening." She'd been ignoring the doctor shaking his head, she'd not be talked out of it.

Nicole looked at the doctor. She knew her mother well enough that if she'd set her mind to something, it would not be altered unless God himself moved the earth. "Very well mother, we shall return home.."

The doctor interrupted. "I'd very much like, if you do not feel imposed upon, to spend the night on your couch. It seems that the Inn has no available rooms just yet, and my grandfather's house has not been suitably prepared to receive me."

He was looking at Nicole with a hopeful expression. Truly there was room in the stables behind the Inn, where the hansoms slept, but he'd not offer that as an option unless they were unwilling. He'd not want to let the woman out of his sight just now. She and Nicole had suffered through a great deal with the elements, and he'd want to keep a watchful eye on them, making certain that pneumonia didn't settle in the woman's chest. He'd a few remedies that he could administer, but timing was everything. He'd not want to administer them unless they were needed, some being rather unpleasant. But, he'd not want to lose time if symptoms developed. Even a few hours could make all the difference in recuperating fully…and death.

Nicole looked at her mother. She could see she was considering the alternatives.

Nicole's mother did not want to seem ungrateful, nor snobbish, and what little did it matter if a doctor slept on her couch, surely no one would think less of them considering the recent events. "Very well then, let the three of us gather our things and be off. I grow tired, and I'd like nothing more than a warm room, and my own bed."

The doctor smiled in relief. She'd not put up an argument. He could only hope she'd always be so compliant, though he knew in his heart, that that was very unlikely.

"Just a bit of supper and then we shall do as you ask." The doctor said, trying to employ a compassionate, yet stern tone to his voice.

She looked up at him scowling. Though she'd no appetite to speak of, and hungered only for rest, she knew that Nicole would be hungry, and so would the doctor. She could manage to push a few things around on a plate making it look as though she'd been eating, just to humor them. "Dinner then bed." She smiled slightly to herself, "the two of you no doubt can find something to talk about until you are tired enough for sleeping." She looked at Nicole. "You are feeling well enough to arrange a bed for the good doctor?"

Nicole nodded. "Not to worry mother, I shall take care of everything."

The glance exchanged between Nicole and her mother nearly made the doctor cry. The love never needed words, it was so very obvious as it floated through the air in their gaze.

XXXXXX

Erik had managed to bring Christine the full distance to the waters that led down to his former home. He'd shaken his head several times in disbelief. Little had he known that the work he had done the day before would have made their arrival much more pleasant. It had been an instinct then, and now he was grateful for it.

He'd found once more the large plank and pole, and carefully placed Christine in the middle of it. She'd never been a gondolier but she understood his simple instructions about slow steady movements and being careful to keep her weight evenly distributed, and what to do if the raft began to tip. It wasn't long and they'd found their way into the water. With no light to guide them, it seemed eerie and ominous. Erik sensed Christine's trepidation and began to hum.

"Sing for me angel…" Christine said in a breathless tone as she clung to Erik's back, he thrusting the pole into the water propelling them forward. It was a bit like deja vue. Erik chose carefully, a full repertoire of music to choose from…but he inhaled fully, and began.

"No one would listen, no one but her heard as the outcast hears. Shamed into solitude, shunned by the multitudes, I learned to listen, in the dark my heart heard music. I longed to teach the world, rise up and greet the world, no one would listen, I alone could hear the music. Then at last a voice in the gloom, seemed to cry I hear you, I hear your fears, your torment and your tears. She saw my loneliness, shared in my emptiness. No one would listen, no one but her heard as the outcast hears. No one would listen, no one but her, heard as the outcast hears."

Tears were streaming down Erik's face. He was back in his old haunt, the object of his affections now willingly embracing him…coddling their blended lives within her very womb. He couldn't help but feel the tug of melancholy on his heart. No, he no longer had to wear a mask, to hide his face because of hideousness…but part of him….a part that no one could see…was still that injured soul longing for acceptance. That he knew, might very well never be healed.

The rest of the way they were silent. Now she understood the words of the song that he'd sung back at the seamstress shop. He had been so bitterly lonely all those years…and he'd not wasted his life nor hidden by his own choice. He'd been rejected by the world, and no one but her had listened….no one but her had loved him…in the way that she did.

They reached the iron grid that formed the gate at the porticos. She shivered. She could quite easily transport herself back to the last time they'd come through that way. She'd been fleeing along with Erik as the Opera House burned down around them. She was fleeing into the arms of her angel, and fleeing from the man to whom she was betrothed. What if she'd not been strong enough to resist Raoul….or what if he'd physically barred her in some way from going with Erik, or worse yet, what if one of the snipers had….she closed her eyes. That what ifs did not matter. What mattered was what she now had her arms wrapped tightly around….her husband…her flesh and blood lover…to her…he was the Phantom no more. But one shred of unfinished business remained here before that persona could be laid to rest…forever.

Erik pushed on the lever, all manner of gate and curtain easily rising and retreating in the darkness. He'd allow the rising candelabras to light their arrival. From there he could go about lighting candles, setting a fire in the stove. As the metal frames screeched to life for the second time in a day, Erik was once again pleased that he'd tended to them. They rose like great fire-breathing dragons from the water, illuminating the cavern with peels of flames that flickered, dancing to life.

Christine watched it all unfolding in amazement as Erik pushed the make-shift raft the remainder of the way until it butted against the shore on the other side. Erik carefully bounded off in one leap, reaching out with his foot to steady the plank, allowing Christine to walk off gracefully without so much as one drop of water tainting her perfect dress. Instinct took over, Erik twirling his cape off of his shoulders in a flourish, tossing it to the very spot it had been hundreds, nay, thousands of times before.

"Erik, it is amazing, I'd have imagined it would have suffered greatly from the mobs…time…" Christine said as her eyes began scanning every corner that had light. She heard Erik chuckle.

"Christine. You can only imagine what I found when I came here hours ago. It was, as you said, in shambles," a hint of pain in his voice. "I'd tarried here, thinking myself to be early. When time passed and no one arrived, I began to straighten, to set things in order one last time." He grimaced as he too began scanning the cavern. It seemed so finite to him now…now that he lived out under the sky.

"I'd not thought we'd find ourselves in this place again." He said thoughtfully, somewhat mournfully. It surprised him how very at odds he felt. Though his new life contained far more promise, far more happiness…he could barely imagine never beholding this place again. It had been home to the birth of nearly everything that had been important to him in his life; his music, his education, his very love and adoration for Christine. He shook his head. He'd interrupted his own thoughts, and even now Christine was staring at him in wonder as to what preoccupied him so.

"It was a prudent choice," he paused, his eyebrows raising, blinking…slowly pulling himself from deep thought. "Coming here," he clarified, "it was prudent as we are nearly assured of utter privacy here. We've great need to be able to speak freely tonight. For it might very well be the last time…." For Christine's sake, he could not bring himself to say it.

Christine ran her hand along his forearm as she walked passed him. She understood his pain; distraction would be his only relief. "Erik? Where is it…the room that you spoke of…the coffin?" She said with genuine interest in her tone.

Erik grimaced once more. "Christine, I do not find that to be wise for a lady in your condition…" his words cut short by her stare. If he'd not show it to her himself, she'd go looking for it.

"Very well then, I suppose you should know where it is so when I die you've a place to put me." He was trying to make light of it.

Christine caught his arm turning him around to look most seriously in his eyes. "Do not speak of such things….this…" she waved her hand in front of her motioning to all of the cavern, "was the realm of the Phantom." She reached up, pulling his face close enough to kiss. "That is no longer you my love…you are Erik the man, the father, the friend, the lover..." She ran her hand up along his chest, until it came to rest on Erik's cheek.

"When we at last leave this place…this kingdom….we shan't ever return. Our business with this life will be finished…we've but a few last things to tend to here my love, and then it shall be over forevermore."

Erik found himself once more mesmerized by this woman. He thought he might have agreed to nearly anything in that moment she was so enchanting. Then his eyebrow flickered. "What things do you speak of my love?"

Christine ran her hand over his chest once more, wetting her lips before she responded. She placed a tender kiss on Erik's lips, and one on his neck. "Just a few things my love…but not now….later…" She wandered ahead of him to look for the room he was trying to avoid, looking over her shoulder smiling at him.

Erik's heart was pounding. For such a young woman, with no experience in the world in the art of seduction, she'd somehow managed to possess a natural talent for it. Erik wasn't altogether certain he could move to follow her. He closed his eyes, inhaling, trying to regain his composure. He watched as she seemingly glided across the smooth stone floor toward the tiny room that contained his coffin.

He couldn't remember exactly how it happened but in two large leaps he'd had her in his arms again, carrying her off toward the room…not the one she'd sought just now…but the room with the swan…the one where he'd first taken her…where he'd hoped one day very long ago, that they'd have been able share in their love.

Christine was madly running her arms around Erik's neck. His face buried beneath her curls as she wrapped herself around him. He walked into the room, it was dark and cold, entirely unsuitable for a moment such as this…

Erik sat Christine down on the edge of the bed, attempting to pull away from her to light the candles behind the bed. She reached out for him, pulling him to her once more.

"Erik…please…" she wrapped her arms around his neck, sliding herself back onto the bed, pulling him down into her arms. He could no longer control, nor did he have want to, what was happening. Christine kissed him passionately, whispering in his ear. "I love you my Phantom…my angel…love you truly." She breathed into his ear, "…take me for I am already yours."

Erik closed his eyes breathing in the very essence of Christine. It was what he had longed for all those years…to have her there…in that very room. As flesh began to give way to desire Erik jerked his face away from Christine, leaning his ear toward the entry to the room. Yes, he heard it.

"Hello…."

Christine sat up…her heart racing as much from the sound of the voice as the expectant anticipation of sharing her love with her husband in that place….the last detail of business the Phantom had left there.

Erik rose, extending his hand, pulling Christine to her feet. He looked down at her, the passion still fresh on his lips; his chest still pounding. He leaned down kissing her as though they were saying goodbye forever. They parted lips, looking deeply into one another's eyes. Their business in this place was yet unfinished…but they'd a visit to have, and friends were coming….the dearest of friends.

Erik took Christine by the hand, moving into the outer room, "hello" he called. Christine echoed him, "hello!" They could hear excited conversation, coming toward them on the water. They raced to the water's edge as the small boat careened around the opening into full view. Christine's heart leapt. "MEG!" she nearly screamed.

"Christine!" Meg practically toppled herself in the boat. At last, at long last…they were together.


	181. At Long Last

**Chapter 181 At Long Last **

Christine's eyes lit with the refulgence of a shooting star, glittering its last on the way to earth. Erik's expression paralleled hers. They'd both looked forward to this very moment with fervent anticipation. It had been far too long since the lot of them had seen one another…far too long.

Meg could not wait for the boat to travel its last few meters. Eagerness drove her into the knee-deep frigid water before the vessel even reached dry ground. "Christine!" She was gasping, a great sob rising in her chest threatening to overtake her already labored breathing.

Christine met her at the waters edge, arms open, trembling, and ready to embrace her. Meg nearly leapt into Christine's arms as she finally reached her. The two held one another as if they could never again be parted. The embrace altered only by the several times they parted just long enough to look into one another's eyes. So great a torrent of tears began to flow, that it would have been difficult to tell to whom the soaking saline belonged.

"Oh how I've missed you my dear sister…I've so very much to tell you." Christine said as she helped Meg to the shore.

"And I you." Meg whispered in her ear, harking back to their behavior as young chorus girls in the dormitories with secrets to tell.

Christine looked up as Madame Giry was properly escorted from the boat by Erik. He embraced his friend, much to her wonderment, without reservation. At first it was odd, for he'd never been that forth right with his affections toward her; in fact no one other than Christine. It took but a minute only, for the gesture to feel entirely innate. They were family now, and he a changed…utterly changed man. As such, he was quite capable of displaying all manner of appropriate conduct suiting a gentleman. The contact of hearts beating within inches of one another as they embraced, provided Erik with opportunity to appreciate what all humankind already knew; love must have an outlet. Erik had lacked the gentle, nurturing touch normally bestowed upon one by their mother. But he was learning. It is never too late to discover how to express your love to those with whom you keep company.

"Erik." Madame Giry said as she leaned fully into his embrace. "Dear friend, we have missed you." She turned her head slightly while still in his arms, glancing in the directions of the Meg and Christine. It filled her with such joy to see the two of them together once more.

Erik too looked in that direction, a great smile crossing his face as his eyes caught Meg's. Madame Giry began releasing him…it was time he was reacquainted with what would now be his sister, if not by blood, most certainly by heart.

Meg's face went blank. The tears ceased, and she'd now begun the slow blinking stare that Christine recognized in an instant. It was what Meg had always done when she'd seen a strikingly handsome man. Christine blushed, for she knew what Meg would be thinking, and how utterly embarrassed she would be when finally she came out of her stupor.

Meg watched as Erik closed the distance between where her mother remained, and where she herself now stood in Christine's arms. Slowly Christine had released her, knowing full well that Meg was now looking upon Erik without the imperfections that had frightened her so before. Christine had nearly forgotten what she'd already become accustomed to…his changed flesh. For Meg, it would be very different, for she would be seeing Erik with her eyes; Christine had always seen him with her heart.

Meg's breath caught in her chest as Erik moved toward her. Her pulse racing. If ever there had been a time she'd doubted the suspicions that she and Nadir had about his parentage, they would finally be laid to rest in her mind. Erik looked unerringly like the man in the picture, Raoul at his feet playing in the sand. There was simply no denying it. As her eyes beheld his ever more defining features, she thought to herself, that it was entirely like gazing upon a man who'd walked right out of the photograph. In the grips of her astonishment, Meg had need to remind herself to breathe.

Meg began to feel light headed, her inhalations coming in staggers, as he moved within arms length, extending them towards her in genuine invitation. She blinked, and before she knew it, she was in his embrace. Her eyes closed…at least from that perspective he was entirely normal to her. Instantly fighting the urge to gape at him. Regaining her composure, she could think of nothing more than eagerly wanting a moment alone with Nadir.

As she rested in Erik's arms, relishing the reunion, another, equally shocking thought washed over her. She'd never had opportunity to find the pages that had slipped from her pocket as she'd climbed the trellis at Raoul's before the storm had obscured the ground, and everything on it, with a blanket of wintry white. Her eyes opened, growing wide. It would be the first thing she would see to when she returned home. Home…the word had rolled through her mind with such ease it frightened her. She shook her head, trying to be rational. Most likely the water from the melting snow would have all but made the ink smear into an unreadable blur, but she'd not be taking any chances.

"Meg, it is most wonderful to see you. Christine has so longed to be with you for a visit. I dare say she is not the same without you at her side." He smiled. "I think the two of you have a great deal about which to converse." He shot a knowing glance over his shoulder at Christine. He doubted not, that their very joy would be one of the first things that Christine shared with her.

Meg could only stammer. "It is wholly wonderful to see you Erik…" she paused. "To see you awake and feeling well." She glanced up at Erik, and suddenly it hit her. Her hand instinctively rising to her cheek; she stared at his. For a brief moment their eyes locked. Erik knew what thoughts consumed her without a single utterance.

"It pleases me to see that you are healing well. The doctor will be most delighted to learn that his patient has been obedient in applying the salves that he provided."

Meg could only nod. For the first time, though in an exceedingly infinitesimal way, she could begin to appreciate the torture that Erik had most certainly felt. An injury or deformity, even when healed, still found way to continue its existence in the recesses of one's mind. She looked at Erik's cheek. "And you…you've healed well also."

Erik smiled at her, his handsomeness making her flush with embarrassment. Now she understood what caused Christine to blush whenever she spoke intimately of him. Erik glanced at Christine, releasing Meg with a soft kiss to her forehead. "I suppose I shall now, with your permission, call you sister?"

Meg was nodding as she stared at Christine who'd come to join them.

Christine slipped her arms around Erik's waist as he glided his arms around her shoulders pulling her into the protective expanse of his chest. The tingling of the moments before the group's arrival, returning once more as he looked down into the large glistening spheres that were Christine's eyes. She'd woken something in him that he knew he'd wrestle with for the hours before they'd find themselves once more alone. No one stirred him as Christine did…no one.

Christine slid her arms from Erik's waist as Madame Giry approached her. "Mother!" She exclaimed as Madame Giry extended her arms to Christine, quickly taking her into them. "It does my heart such good to see you!"

"And mine as well." Madame Giry said as she closed her eyes, welcoming Christine into an embrace. She whispered into her ear, so faintly that Christine barely heard her, "are you feeling well?"

Christine smiled, and shook her head. She'd not give any indication of her condition until she'd had opportunity to tell Meg directly, for she was fairly certain that the secret had yet to be revealed to her.

Nadir had finally found his way to shore. Pulling the boat, with some difficulty, onto the craggy shore. Walking toward the cluster, he extended his hand to Erik. "My friend, all goes well with you?" Nadir's eyes were trying to assess Erik's condition. For indeed if anyone knew the plethora of Erik's expressions, it was Nadir, though his altered face made it much more difficult. His burning fears that he would find Erik a tortured man, allayed somewhat by what he beheld. Erik seemed relaxed, content, and utterly in love.

Erik maneuvered his way around Nadir's hand, reaching out instead to embrace him as he had the others. "My good friend indeed…you are like a brother to me!" Erik announced, giving Nadir a much more forceful embrace, for Nadir certainly was neither frail nor feminine, and could endure a bit of Erik's strength.

Nadir flinched. The surprise of this gesture from Erik, coupled with his careful choice of words, "brother", caught him off guard. He forced himself to respond. Glancing about the cave he said, "Erik…so this is where you'd hidden away all those years since we were in…"

Nadir's tongue caught by his sensibilities; the words thankfully dying before they'd escaped him. He glanced first at Christine. Her eyes had suddenly grown wide with question. His gaze flashed to Erik; his frame had grown rigid, his eyes dark. A secret of a former life, one that neither any longer had use for, had quite nearly been revealed. The bitter truth would have been most difficult to retract and far more than difficult to explain. It was a part of their lives they'd both tried hard to put behind them.

Erik cleared his throat, his arms dropping from Nadir's shoulders as he turned. "Come, let us rest." Erik motioned toward the small area where he'd gathered some odds and ends for them to sit on. Meg and Madame Giry being offered the only two proper chairs.

As Nadir walked passed Christine, he reached out placing a delicate touch on her forearm. "It is good to see you my dear."

Christine smiled, leaning forward to place a delicate kiss on his cheek. "It is wonderful to see you as well." She felt herself being pulled away, Erik's strong arm now encircling her middle. "Erik!" she began to laugh as he spun her around, pulling her up into his arms, carrying her to the one rather large crate that he'd overturned.

As he sat down, perching Christine in his lap, she leaned back whispering in his ear, "we must be careful. You do, after all, recall what happened the last time we found ourselves on a crate!" She said, playfully placing a delicate kiss upon his cheek.

Erik laughed, placing a tender kiss just in front of her ear. "Do not worry my dear, this one is quite sturdy, I assure you. I'll not be spilling you on the floor this night!" The pair laughed, as Meg, Madame Giry and Nadir looked on, all coming to rest in their places.

There was a moment of awkward silence as the group studied one another. There was so very much to say, and they'd no idea where first to begin.

Erik glanced at Meg, then at Christine. "My love…" he nodded toward her. She smiled. "Is there something you wish to share with your sister?"

Meg's brow furrowed, a smile crossing her face. "Christine?"

Christine was blushing. She'd thought to wait, but it seemed that the father to her children was far more eager to share the news than what she'd first surmised. There was some sense in it, announcing it in a grand manner, because if not by such method, it was certain to slip out in conversation. At least in this way, the news would be given its proper due.

"Meg," she glanced at her, then up at Erik. He leaned in placing a reassuring kiss on her jaw.

"Go on my dear, she awaits." Erik began to run his warm hand along the flesh of her back.

Christine pressed her head into Erik's cheek, placing a delicate kiss on his temple before she'd uttered the words she been so longing to tell Meg. "Meg, this November…we've been blessed you see, and it seems that the fates have…the few weeks really that Erik and I spent since our wedding, but before the accident…we've…its come to us really…" Christine could feel a deep crimson blush rising within. Perhaps it was saying something so very personal, making such a confession in front of everyone. Perhaps it was the mode. Normally when she'd had something most private to share with Meg, it had been done under the cloak of darkness. Tonight, the cavern was fully illuminated by the large candles and candelabras that seemed to light nearly every corner. "Meg, we can hold no longer on the very fact that I…I am with child!"

Meg flew to her feet and into Christine's arms with the swiftness of a gazelle, nearly toppling the three of them to the ground. "Oh dear sister…how very wonderful!" She felt like screaming with joy, but knew how caverns could echo. Meg leaned back, instantly looking down at Christine's abdomen, then back up at her flushed face. "Are you feeling well?" She turned smiling at Erik who was quite simply beaming, his face turned down slightly in discretion. She turned back to Christine. Meg placed a hand on Erik's shoulder. She'd not miss that he too was parent to the children Christine now carried, and not to be neglected.

"Yes, quite, though I do get rather strange cravings, and am tired from time to time, though I dare say that grows better each day." Christine was smiling at Meg.

Meg began to turn as she realized she was the only one that had risen to their feet to express their joy.

Madame Giry's eyes widened just slightly as she knew instinctively what her daughter would be thinking. She stood, going to Erik to embrace him. "How very wonderful Erik, children…may they be a blessing to your life…" she glanced at Christine, "to both of your lives."

Meg was smiling, a bit of her confusion relieved. Perhaps it had been the shock of the news that had made her mother hesitate in her congratulations. Now she could see that she too was quite obviously pleased and happy for them.

Nadir blinked. He rose to his feet chastising himself for being rather daft. He'd at first been confused by Madame Giry's reaction to it, but then quickly reminded himself that Meg had not known, and it would have crushed her to think that both he and her mother had known but never shared such news with her. He walked forward, shaking Erik's hand, patting him firmly on the shoulder.

He went to Christine, embracing her. "Dear lady, it is most wonderful news indeed."

The five of them sat once more. Christine was blushing, Erik having perched her once more on his lap, now running his hand affectionately along her stomach. "My dear, do you not think we should share, hmmm?"

Christine immediately smiled looking down and up again. "My love," she nestled her head on Erik's shoulder, placing a delicate kiss on his jaw. She'd shared the first news. She'd leave it up to him to share the next.

Erik cleared his throat. He'd never been one to be uncomfortable with statements, but then again he'd never been able to share of something so personal before. He nearly felt as if he were betraying private moments between them to speak of such things. Christine kissed his jaw again, this time lingering there to exhale, her warm breath sending a shudder down his spine.

Meg, Madame Giry, and Nadir sat looking at him expectantly. He smiled, clearing his throat once more. "It seems, and the doctor assures us there is room for error, though he thinks not…" he paused, feeling the crimson blush rising up his neck. "It seems that this November, we shall be fully blessed." He looked at the trio of questioning eyes. They were eager to hear whatever it was he had to say. Christine kissed his jaw once more to encourage him. "It seems that fate has smiled on us, and that we may very well be welcoming not one, but three children into this world."

Neither Madame Giry nor Nadir had to feign surprise at this news. The group found themselves all on their feet. Christine at the very center, as everyone began exchanging hugs and congratulations.

Meg broke through the group, taking Christine fully into her arms. Her heart feeling more torn now than ever, and a sense of urgency surged through her that she'd rather pushed to the back of her mind. She and Nadir simply had to find a way, and soon, to clear up the question of Erik's lineage. It was of more importance now than ever. If it were coincidence, though she thought most deeply in her heart that it was not, then she could dismiss it. But if it were true, if Erik was DeChagny's son…then all things would become quite different.

Now more than ever, they needed to know, for a family should never be kept apart…not during times, such sweet times as these. Meg glanced over Christine's shoulder, looking directly into Nadir's eyes. He nodded only once. He was of like mind. There was much to be done now, and he'd need to see to it. She smiled at him, knowing full well he was thinking the same.

It wasn't long before the tiny huddle had started to break into small groupings, Meg, Madame Giry, and Christine, leaving Nadir and Erik free to walk away giving the ladies a bit of privacy. Christine smiled at Erik as she lead Madame Giry and Meg into the room with the swan. Erik nodded, he'd not mind if she shared it with them just now…but his mind could not help but drift to just an hour before when they'd been alone there. He smiled at her. By the mischievous look in her eye, he'd no doubt she was thinking the same thing.

Erik listened as Meg exclaimed her surprise at the bedroom, looking at the hand carved bed, and all of the other things that had amazingly escaped the hands of the mob that had come to the cavern the night the Opera House burned. He smiled, turning to Nadir.

"Dear friend, come, take a walk with me. We shall allow the women some privacy, for I am certain there are things that were meant for their ears alone. And indeed, there are things we've to discuss, that we should prefer to keep most private." He looked at Nadir who was nodding. Indeed, there was much to discuss.

They wandered back to the solitary room where Erik had slept so many nights. He brought a candle with him there, placing it on the table that he'd righted just that afternoon. He watched as Nadir's eyes searched the shallow room, close walls and low ceilings. He knew what he was thinking as his eyes came to rest on the silver coffin that Erik now rested upon. "Dear friend, I had told you of it, why does it shock you so now to see it?"

Nadir looked most seriously at Erik, even in his worst imaginings he'd not thought it possible. "Certainly I'd thought you jested. You aren't a vampire!"

The comment made Erik laugh. "No, not quite, though I dare say that there was once a time when I'd caused as much fear as if I were blood thirsty and sharp fanged." Erik looked down at Nadir as he came to rest next to him. "So very much has changed since last I slept in this room. I could never have believed then that I would be sitting here, having this conversation in this room, with those three women sitting comfortably in my…my former home." Erik shook his head. "Whomever is impish enough to not believe it fate, is truly a fool." The comment making Nadir nod his head in agreement.

"There is much veracity in your words Erik." Nadir secretly hoping that one day he would be able to remind Erik of that very utterance…the day that he would reveal to him all that he would learn…of all that he and Meg suspected. It may be months from now, perhaps longer, but one day, he'd settled in his mind, he'd tell him of it. The picture buried deep within his breast pocket now felt like a burning ember. That face, that picture, was even more real…for he felt as if he was staring now into the face of DeChagny himself, as a much younger man.

"Nadir?" Erik's head now cocked slightly to one side, his forehead creased in concentration, "what is it that burdens you so?" Erik's voice filled with genuine compassion.

Nadir shook his head. "I'm just a bit tired…the hours we've been keeping have been a bit more strenuous than what a man of my years is accustomed to." He didn't even look up before he started. "He's taken credit," he needed to rephrase, "reluctant credit for it Erik."

Erik sat back, he could not breathe.

Nadir glanced at him. "It was no easy feat, let me assure you. He is a very stubborn man, much like yourself." Nadir was immediately panging with regret at his choice of words. Making reference to Erik and Raoul in the same sentence certainly fell on Erik's ears with great distain.

Erik grimaced, but would not interrupt.

"It took a bit of convincing on my part. Of course I'd had to tamper with his gun, removing several bullets to corroborate the subterfuge. However I think that the evidence combined with the story that is now swiftly making its way through his house, will assist Raoul in remembering what happened. He rather hit his head when he fell to the ground, so he was a bit more easy to manipulate, though I dare say he fought it." Nadir glanced only briefly over at Erik hoping to see some indication of his reaction to such news. Erik's face was stoic. He'd continue.

"He believes he saw you…saw you in the shadows." Nadir cleared his throat, certain that this would elicit some response from Erik.

Indeed it had. Erik's eyes now wide with apprehension. How could he be that foolish? They were inside the City again, in the Opera House no less, in the very lair where he'd nearly ended that boy's life. He was on his feet, feeling the immediate need to flee.

Nadir reached up, grabbing Erik's forearm. "Sit, Raoul is at home, quite under the influence of some drug that the doctor has administered him to relieve his pain. He will be sleeping a number of days in a quite groggy state. He's of no threat to you."

Erik sat down. Even so, he'd not be taking any chances with any of their lives. For even if Raoul himself could not come, it does not mean that he could not send someone in his stead. He paused a long while before he'd mustered the courage to ask. "Will he make full recovery?" He glanced at Nadir, a sickening look crossing his face.

"Yes, he's twenty-one stitches the length of his head. He should heal without issue." Nadir replied.

Erik paused, "and the boy?" He asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Quite dead I'm afraid." Nadir replied. "Erik, how is it that you pursued him?" Quickly trying to redirect the conversation.

Erik's sighed. The young man could cause no further injury, and the vision that Christine had…it had no threat of ever coming to fruition. Nadir's question began to register.

"I'll tell you Nadir, if you promise me but one thing." He looked at Nadir. He knew Nadir loathed ever making a bargain. "All that I ask of you is that it never be mentioned, the way in which the boy died. We must keep to the story for all inclined must believe the one and only truth…that Raoul brought this life to an end,.,.., not I." Erik's words fell heavily; the gravity of the alternative would escape neither of them.

Nadir nodded in consent. He looked at Erik rather expectantly. The description of the events were certain to be detailed and long, for Erik, once he'd agreed to explain, would not miss a single detail. He settled back, a bit uneasy to be to reclining atop a coffin, but he'd pretend not to notice. To Erik is was no more than a piece of furniture that he'd made use of. To Nadir, it was the very epitome of the despondence of the life that Erik had lived beneath the Opera House. He'd been a monster in hiding. Today, he was a monster no more, though Nadir knew, his full conversion would be years in the making.

Erik looked at Nadir, a labored sigh rising from him. He'd already shared this with Christine, and he was a bit lighter with her on the more hideous parts. With Nadir, he'd not spare even one part of the event, for Nadir never liked to be uninformed.

XXXXXX

Meg and Christine had not released one another's hands since they'd sat on the bed. Madame Giry had risen several times, roaming about the room, wishing she'd have some other distraction that would call her away so as to provide them a bit of privacy. For she'd no doubt there were things that the girls could not discuss in her presence.

"Meg, Christine," they both turned to look at Madame Giry. "Would you mind terribly if I ventured out into the other rooms for a spell?" She looked at them and then glanced over her shoulder. "In truth, I've always been a bit curious about this very place. I'd always imagined, but I never knew….and I shan't imagine we will ever travel this way again."

Meg looked a bit suspiciously at her mother, but then thought…if it were a ruse, she too could find benefit in playing along. She smiled, "Mother I shan't mind."

Christine was nodding her head in agreement. "In truth I have a notion to do the same before I leave here." Christine's eyes began combing the room as if it were hollowed halls. "There are so many questions about Erik's time here…though I am entirely certain most will go necessarily unanswered." She gave Madame Giry a faint smile.

"Very well then. But do swear that if I should return in a rush, that you shan't act surprised if I am quickly followed by Erik or Nadir. I do not want to give Erik the impression that I was prodding further into his history than what I'd been invited to."

The girls both nodded. They shan't mind spending time alone. Not in the least.

Madame Giry walked out into the cavernous expanse of the room that gradually declined to meet the water's edge. She came to rest on an old trunk, quite of view of both the rooms that were occupied. She was content to wait. It was part of who she was. She was a conduit more often than a vessel. She put her head in her hands just staring down on the waters. The time would pass painfully quickly for those who were now conversing. For her, she would simply bask in the glow of knowing they were all receiving exactly what they needed at that precise moment.


	182. Private Words

Chapter 182 Private Words 

Dear Faithfuls: I will be away again, unexpectedly on Thursday, therefore, there will not be an update that day. I hope the fact that this chapter is a bit longer than most, will help! I do promise something special for the Friday addition however!

Meg sat now cross-legged in the center of the enormous bed with Christine. The pair were facing one another in eager anticipation; a giddy excitement dancing across their eyes. She'd watched and waited until she was certain that her mother was beyond hearing distance. Turning her attentions to Christine once more she smiled; taking Christine's hands into hers. "Tell me Christine, how does it feel?" She blushed, "feel to be wife and mother?" Searching Christine's face for a reply.

Christine's face lit with such a glow, that the very act alone, without any words, would have told Meg how utterly blissful she felt having been joined to Erik as his wife…and mother to his children. "Meg, it is wonderful." She paused, "no, far more than wonderful…it is like a cool glass of water if one was dying of thirst…it is life saving!" She smiled at Meg. "There is no simple way to say how very fulfilled, content, loved, I feel now."

Meg looked at her with wondering eyes. "So when do you suppose…"

Christine already knew what question Meg was posing. Her eyes glassy and glowing she responded, "I am not certain of the timing, there were so many opportunities….perhaps it may have been on our wedding night or one of the days that followed." Christine was blushing heavily, she paused. If she were like many of the other girls at the Opera House, she would go into all of the sordid details, but such was not the nature of Christine. She'd passed through that window of maturity, to the physical side of love, and that was an entirely private matter.

Meg was glancing down at her hands, unsure of what to make of all she'd heard.

Christine reached out touching her hand, her face glowing a fevered crimson. "He's a generous lover Meg, tender and sweet." She exhaled. "To love someone in this way Meg," she paused to clarify, "to love your husband in this way…it gives you full understanding of why God saw fit to command that it be a sacred part of a relationship that binds two flesh into one." Her face became loving, yet serious. "It is true, that once you've joined your hearts in love, and then further bond with one another in flesh, you lose track of where you end, and your husband begins. Your joy becomes his joy, his sorrow becomes your sorrow, his love becomes your love." She looked at Meg, a tenderness playing in her eyes. "It was not until I'd exchanged those vows, joined myself to Erik, that I truly understood the words…and two shall become as one."

Christine was nearly overcome with emotion as she realized where she was, with whom she was, and under what circumstances they'd all found themselves there that very night. "Meg, I know only those girls we watched throw themselves about as harlots at the Opera House will never know the joy of sweet love. It was only in that most personal surrender that I found way to physically express my love for him." Christine blushed as she looked upon Meg now; realizing that she'd already said far more than she'd intended.

Christine smiled at Meg, laying down stretching out a bit on the bed. "It is a beautiful bed is it not?"

Meg smiled widely, flopping to her back joining Christine. She stretched out next to her. The bed had been enrobed from ceiling to floor, with a large black lace canopy; two purposes no doubt. To provide Christine with a bit of privacy, before she and Erik came to know one another; and to obscure the ceiling of cold gray stone that lay just beyond it.

"Christine?" Meg said, staring up at the bunched black layers of lace. "Were you ever afraid….afraid when you'd gone? Did you leave with him of your own accord…or had it not been as much your choice as it appeared?"

Christine's brow furrowed, "Meg, have we not already spoken of all of this? You know it was my choice…my choice to be with him forever."

Meg's face was suddenly serious, she turned up on her elbow to look at Christine. "Yes, you've told me, all the time that we spent at Courtland Manor….I just wonder now, all this time later…if he'd never been changed as he is now…would you be afraid?"

Christine turned up on her side. Her face now just inches from Meg's. They had found themselves so many times in this pose as young girls sharing secrets in the dark of the dormitories long after they were to have been asleep. "Meg, I loved him deeply from the first. I was possessed by no question, nor fear of him in my mind. The perfection or imperfections of his flesh meant little to me….it was his heart….his soul that drew me inexplicably to him. I've never felt this strongly about anything or anyone as I do him. Did I fear? Him no. Reprisal, yes. Being hunted and running forevermore, yes. But fear him, I did not. Once my eyes were opened to the great love that was within him…within me…the path was clear, the choice was self-evident."

Christine smiled faintly rolling once more to her back as she lingered in thought. "I've realized so much since I've been with Erik Meg. I longed for him in a way that I did not fully comprehend," she paused. "The first time he touched me….it was as if I was going home…going home to the longings of my heart." A wide smiled crossed Christine's face, a tear escaping the corner of her eye. "Every time I find myself surrendered in his arms as his wife….the feeling washes over me yet again. He is kind and gentle…tender." Christine felt herself blush as she thought of the brief yet intense moments before Meg arrived.

"He has shared so very much of life with me….taught me so very much. Opened my eyes to things…feelings I have never known. I let my mind start to journey to a strange new world, I left the thoughts of the life I knew before, I let my soul take me where it longed to be, only then could I belong to him." She smiled wide, his words ringing loudly in her ears. "It only makes me hunger for more."

Christine looked at Meg. Christine knew Meg had never, just she herself had not before, tasted the sweetness of a love saved. It had been Christine's world too until recently. Meg's eyes beheld the look of having someone enchant you with tales of far off lands that they've visited. The look of knowing you've nothing more than your imagination to help picture it. It was like trying to describe the essence of a fruit you'd longed for but never tasted. You cannot appreciate fully a land you've always admired…but never visited.

"Meg, he is an unquenchable thirst in my soul." She paused, she could elaborate but the examples would be innumerable. "He is much more complex, much more talented, much stronger, more wise…than one could ever have imagined." She smiled again. "In all of my life…and do not misunderstand at all for I shan't mean this as it might at first sound, I have never been as joyous or fulfilled as I have been in the months since he took me as his wife." She turned her head looking at Meg. "If I feel this way when I am with him….how could I ever be afraid?"

Meg was smiling. She felt an odd release in the confessions, nay professions, of Christine's utterances. If Christine's heart held Erik in such reverent regard…surely there was no room in it for anyone else….most specifically…any room to harbor feelings for Raoul. "Christine…you've been cruel, nearly bringing me to tears…that was so beautiful!" They both began to giggle, reaching out and squeezing each other's hands. "Oh to be in love such as this…it is like a fairy tale!" Meg laughed.

Christine inhaled sharply, smiling so wide she thought the corners of her lips must have met in the back of her head. "Yes, I suppose it does have that ring to it! I the little chorus girl rescued from a life that was planned for her…and Erik…he is my dark prince come to rescue me…bringing me to a world where all things are possible…showering me with a love so great that it has the power to wash away every unhappiness." Christine's eyes grew wide as she crafted the tale. "Then the prince takes her as his bride, and she comes to find he is not a dark prince at all, merely a brilliant shining king in hiding….a king that has only love and hope to share with the world." Christine was musing…oh how she loved fairy tales!

Meg sighed, "oh how utterly enchanting Christine. You've made me giddy!" Meg laughed.

Christine smiled widely. "And I now carry his princes or princesses in my womb." Christine lifted the layers of her dress, leaving but her silken slip covering her flesh. She turned her head looking at Meg. "Here, give me your hand."

Meg rolled up on her side, extending her left hand to Christine with a bit of question in her eye.

Christine glided Meg's hand ever so carefully to the small lump that was protruding a little more each day from her flesh. Meg's eyes grew wide, and she was instantly shedding tears of joy.

"Oh Christine!" She ran her hand gently back and forth over the bump, laughing and crying all the while. "Christine, it is simply wonderful!" Then her look changed, a veil of sorrow passed over her eyes as she lowered herself once more to her back, tears still freely flowing.

Christine's euphoric joy suddenly washing away, a pained expression taking its place. "Meg, whatever is it? What causes you such grief?" She leaned over brushing the stray hairs from Meg's forehead.

Meg sobbed once. "Christine…it is difficult to imagine…" a great sob swelling in her chest, "that I won't be with you…with you through all of it…to see the children be born…to share that part of life with you as we had always imagined we would." Meg's eyes blinking rapidly trying to clear the new tears as quickly as the old ones ran down the side of her face. She looked pleadingly up at Christine.

Christine's eyes too now filled with tears. The thought had crossed her mind dozens of times, and it had grieved her. "Meg, we will find a way…a way for you to come to us. We shall make a way my sister…you shan't miss it, I promise you." She leaned over placing a delicate kiss of reassurance on her forehead. "I'll not have you missing it at all. For you shall in fact one day be their aunt…." She paused, carefully proceeding, "and Raoul shall be their uncle…though I dare say an unknowing one."

Meg now gasped. The sharp contrast in feelings now changed from sorrow to terror. Somewhere deep inside of her she'd not allowed her mind to wander to that reality…and it might be more true than Christine would ever in her wildest imaginings believe. She fought to regain her composure. "Christine…I…."

"Meg, do not worry, we shall find a way through all of this." She smiled at her once more.

Meg's thoughts flitted here and there, rather like a moth caught in a spider's web trying to free itself. She glanced down, nearly ashamed to ask, yet another question, especially one she knew had the propensity to cause Christine such pain.

"Christine…do you ever worry…worry that one of your children might have….. as Erik did…might have.."

Christine's face turned suddenly serious; nary a glimmer of fear in her eye, nor of resignation to that fate. Rather it held a look of utterly determined hope. "Meg, my dear Meg, do not think that has not crossed my mind, and Erik's." She paused, inhaling carefully. "This blessing," she smoothed her hand over her dress, "is a blessing from God Himself. Whatever God sees fit to bring into our lives, we shall love and cherish without reservation. A blemish does not ruin an entire apple does it? Is not the flesh of the fruit as sweet, provide sustenance to those who partake of it?" The question was rhetorical, she'd need not wait for Meg's reply.

"My dear sister, I've set it in my mind that each child will arrive with its own blessing, its own talent, its own strengths. With a father such as Erik, they shall be educated, loved, and nurtured no matter if they are born with goose down or fur backs, they shall all be treated equally, with the love of a father and mother, devoted like no others."

There was a long moment of silence, as Christine let her words settle upon Meg's mind and heart.

Christine reached out a reassuring hand, touching Meg's. "Now dear sister, I've shared so very much with you…how in good conscience could you be so coy with me?" She laughed at Meg's expression. "Meg, now do tell me…", she'd noticed the new garments, the fine satin ribbons, the necklace, the hair ornaments, and most importantly the rather beautiful new piece of jewelry Meg had been mindlessly spinning about on her finger during their entire visit.

Meg looked down, a bit of blush now making her cheeks glow. She really ought to have been prepared for it, but somehow she still felt uneasy, and unsure of what to say.

Christine, sensing her ill-at-ease, reached out touching her shoulder. "Meg, I am a married woman now." She raised her right eyebrow, "I carry the evidence of my commitment to that love deep within my womb." She looked at Meg most seriously until Meg's eyes joined hers in a gaze.

"I am beholden to the man that God Himself made for me…I can assure you that I love no other…harbor feelings for no other. I shan't want you to doubt that any longer sister dear. I only have want for your every happiness…wherever that may lead you," she paused, "to whomever it leads you."

Tears anew grew in Meg's eyes. "Christine….I shan't be able to tell you how my heart grieved that very issue. I know that he meant…that Raoul meant a great deal to you. It is so very difficult to imagine that even though you love another, and love him greatly, that you shan't be affected…have your perception of our growing affections for one another tainted by those feelings." She glanced down at her hands, pausing briefly as she felt the weight of Christine's gaze fall upon her.

She mustered her courage. "Christine, I've known you to be a trusted friend for a very long while. In all of those times, I've not known you to be dishonest, not once, in your dealings with me." A pleading look passed over her face, but she did not so much as blink. "If you assure me that you shan't mind, that it will cause you no injury, nor alter your opinion of me nor of Raoul….then I shall gladly tell you all that you wish to know."

Christine inhaled, considering Meg's words carefully. It would be with a most solemn vow that she would answer. She glanced from Meg to the door and back again. "I so swear Meg."

A wide smile passed over her as she settled in, pillow now bunched beneath her head, for a long story.

Meg returned Christine's smile. She'd noticed her staring at the ring all evening, unconsciously that is why she'd been toying with it at all. Perhaps it was there that she would begin. There was so very much to tell. Of the room, the sleigh ride, the painting easels, the games, the conversations, the nights spent in front of the fire, the proper dinners, the interactions with Raoul's father, the safe closet, the first kiss, the statues outside her bedroom window, the secret grotto, the stories of his mother. She worried only that there shan't be enough time to tell all of it before they would have to go.

XXXX

Madame Giry had walked about the great caverns lost in thought. She'd heard Erik speak of it so many times, she felt as though she should have known every nook of it. Even though his descriptions were vivid, she could never have truly imagined the utter solitude that it provided. It had to have been….all those years…much like a haven and yet a prison all at once.

She'd finally settled herself on a large blanket on the floor, leaning against one of the rather large trunks. She stared out at the placid water of the lagoon. Slowly she began to blink, and before long the exhaustion from lack of sleep from the night before overtook her. She was utterly relaxed, for everyone she cared for were in the rooms just behind her, and she could imagine nothing more sweet or comforting as the knowledge that they were all happily together, if but for however brief a time.

XXXX

Nadir leaned his back against the wall, a bit of astonishment on his face. Erik had spoken so freely, of every detail. He could not tell what shocked him more. "Erik, it brings us to such a place now does it not?"

Erik was nodding, looking so very much more relaxed having unburdened himself to the one person who would understand why he struggled with all of it as he did. No one else on the face of the earth had shared as much of the worst of his life with him than Nadir. For what he had endured during his time in Persia made the time spent with the gypsies look like a simple childish matter of years.

"Erik, where does that leave things…in Chauesser? Where are the books that the woman gave you?" After all there was a glimmer of hope that they contained just the sort of thing that would piece together what Nadir believed more and more each day…that Erik was the son of DeChagny.

Erik was shaking his head. "In truth I do not know. In my haste to leave that place, I'd forgotten them in the bag by the fireplace. For all I know they may have been discarded or taken by some other. I shall send someone into the City upon our return to collect them if they are still able to." Erik said matter of fact.

Nadir glanced over at Erik. "And now, where does the woman rest?"

Erik looked down at the ground, a bit of sadness in his eye, and even more evident in the tone of his reply, "she was taken to the undertaker with funds and instructions as to her provisions. I only hope that he is a trustworthy man and has done as he was asked, for he was most certainly well compensated. I've no want to cause those dear ladies any further injury. I dare say that Nicole has sacrificed much to care for her family. I wish only that there was something more that I could do for she and her mother. They are a proud lot though, and I've no doubt that even though they'd no funds of their own to speak of, that they feel terrible accepting the small token of my caring for the woman's final expenses."

Erik looked knowingly at Nadir. "There was an unspoken connection to this woman, something that I cannot put into words. And the place…the place that I found her…it had an odd feeling of familiarity though I cannot imagine why." Erik looked at Nadir, though it was if he looked through him, beyond him, and not at him.

Nadir felt a deeper and deeper need to spend time in Chauesser, it became more and more obvious to him that this place held more promise for discovering the truth about Erik than any other place. If the feelings were strong there…strong for Erik…perhaps there was a reason.

Erik glanced at Nadir. "Have you any other questions of me?"

"Just a hundred or so my friend!" Both Nadir and Erik laughed.

"I'm quite afraid that we shan't have time for all of them, so perhaps you could narrow it a bit to four or five. I've want to see what the ladies have been doing this long while."

Nadir smiled, "do not tell me you miss her when she is but one room away from you!"

Erik did not flinch, nor smile, "always…I miss her always unless she is in the safety of my arms."

Nadir smiled. A very deep part of him was so very relieved, so very happy. Erik had found a happiness that he had so badly needed. Erik was an intense man, and when he hated, he hated vehemently, when he loved…he loved passionately.

"Erik, what now are your intentions? Where shall you settle until the children arrive?"

Erik looked down first and then over at Nadir. "I know that Christine shall protest, and my household will meet such news with much chagrin, as they've spent days setting up a proper house, but I feel quite compelled to leave Chausser and return to Courtland Manor. It is much further for you to travel for a visit, and I am sorry for the additional strain…it is simply that I cannot feel at home there, at the winter house, with all of the events going on in the City."

Erik's eyes now turning dark. "I wish to give Christine as gentle and uncomplicated a time for her pregnancy as I can duly provide. I dare say that the good citizens of Chauesser may not allow for it if they keep on this path of unrealistic behaviors. Honestly a hero…you can but imagine the upheaval…"

Nadir was nodding. He could see the flee response growing in Erik's eyes…it was one he knew quite well. "Do not worry for the additional distance. I shall make it gladly. We've only need now to find opportunities to bring Meg along for visits. I felt at once joy and sorrow when Meg and Christine found one another again. It will not do well for either of them to be parted at length…though some day I fear it will be of a much more permanent nature."

Erik grimaced, for he'd thought of it too. "Let us be pragmatic Nadir. We could quite easily extend visits throughout the next few seasons, with the eventual death of at least Stephan. That would take us to the end of Christine's pregnancy, and indeed the funeral and setting things in order could leave Meg with Christine for several weeks after the children's birth. Though Christine will have all of the assistance that she requires, I know in my heart she will want to share this with Meg. After that there will be the lingering of Elizabeth, and her eventual illness, decline and death. That will give us perhaps another season or two. After that time, I do not know what excuse we shall use…" Erik's eyes now drifted toward the doorway that led out into the great room. "Perhaps there will be developments that will arise that we have yet to discover making further excuse for visits."

Nadir flinched…for little did Erik know, that he was hoping for that very same thing as well…though in decidedly a different way. "Perhaps," was all he could manage.

"We shall return to the seamstress shop, tarrying there for the night. Then when morning arrives, return to Chauesser. I do not know when we will next, or if we will return to Paris." Erik's uncertainty about leaving Paris behind for good was growing. He'd noted the tone with which Christine spoke, and the fact that she'd left a few of the paintings yet unexplained…he knew she was up to something, though she not said it.

Nadir was shaking his head. "We shall stay in Madame Giry's quarters tonight. I know that the women had hoped to return to DeChagny's yet this evening, but in truth there are but a few more things that I've to take care of in the city." Nadir's thoughts returning to LeMortem street to pay the undertaker.

"What thing do you speak of Nadir?" Erik questioned.

"The Magistrate will help me in finding Sara's family. I've some additional papers to complete, he has decided to make me her testator as no others have come forward as of yet, and there is great interest in the property as the Opera House will be reopening soon, and he'd very much like to have the business, because of its physical proximity to the Opera House, in use again. It is mot untraditional, but since he's agreed, I'd like to take the opportunity to do so before I return to Raoul's. Then there is the matter of seeing to final payment at Perdue's."

Erik grimaced yet again. It had been nearly an hour since Raoul had crossed his mind.

Nadir caught his pain. "Erik, there is great honor in saving one's life…"

Erik flashed him a dark, threatening look.

Nadir's tone turning rather fatherly. "Erik, in saving a life, even one of your enemy, you are slowly paying penance for the lives that were lost in Persia." Nadir paused, he could not even look at Erik for he knew what torture would be playing across his face just now. "It was not your fault, no more than it was mine. When you are swallowed whole by such evil…right and wrong becomes muddled, unclear, murky. Let us never forget that we were tricked, used, manipulated."

Erik's jaw was clenched, his teeth gritted so tightly that it sent shooting pains into his skull. "Did I tell you that vile creature was in Paris?"

Nadir's face went ashen. "Erik…here in Paris…but how could she have…is she here now?" His pulse immediately pounding in his head.

"No, she is not here, and I doubt very much that she will be a threat to us ever again Nadir." Erik paused, he himself had worked up into a lather. He shook his head. "It was rather innocent…the way I came to this knowledge." He glanced at Nadir, yet another confession to make. "At the seamstress shop, the number of paintings that I'd completed…hung on display as I told you…" Erik closed his eyes, it was foolishness on his part, but he'd never thought she'd ever find them so very far away. "It seems that somehow she'd become aware of them."

Nadir gasped. "And what of this knowledge? Where is she now?"

Erik had raised his hand, palm down, patting the air as if the very motion would have a calming affect on Nadir. "How it was discovered I know not. The woman creates garments for all manner of people from long distances away. No doubt they've some additional appeal beyond the beauty of the garment…perhaps something about being created by a blind seamstress has some significance. Regardless of how they were discovered, it was several years ago that the…" he could not bring himself to even use her name it was such a bitter ember on his tongue. "She came with her entourage to the woman's shop, rather insisting that she be allowed to purchase the paintings…something about them matching part of a collection she had in her palace.'

Nadir gasped once more. "No Erik…you did not…"

"It was not intentional Nadir. How was I to know that she would ever find me so very far from Persia? It could have been any artist. It was but mere chance that she found her way to them."

Nadir was staring at the floor. If it were true, if that beast had suspicion that they were in Paris, they'd have to flee…he and Erik…or all that they loved would be brutally destroyed out of sheer vengeance.

Erik reached out grasping Nadir's shoulder. "Good friend, I tell you the old woman is very clever," he raised his eyebrow, "though she knew not what or whom she was protecting," he sighed, "it is but one more thing that I admire about her. It seems that the…..well…she was quite insistent that she be allowed to purchase the pictures for her collection, for a healthy sum I might add, with one condition." Erik's eyes growing dark again, though this time the hatred was tinged with fear. "She insisted upon meeting the artist! She'd wanted opportunity to commission further works for the collection." Erik looked at Nadir, the dear old man looked as if he would be ill. "She really is rather clever Nadir, I assure you."

Nadir looked at him a bit relieved. If Erik was not stirred into a frightened rage, he could rest at ease that the end of the conversation would provide him with the same comfort.

"You see, when first I'd begun painting for the woman, and she'd come upon the idea of displaying them…I'd only but one thing I required for my permission to be granted, and that was that she never reveal by whose hands they had come to her, nor by whom they in fact had been created." Erik flashed a smile at Nadir. "It was, as it turns out, a good bargain." Nadir smiled too, though he'd not known why. "The woman, as retold by Christine…"

Nadir gasped, "Christine knows of the…the….Sultana?" Nadir's eyes fell to the ground as though he'd been struck by a hot iron. They'd agreed never to share of the things in Persia, and certainly he knew Christine's inquisitive mind…she would not let it rest.

Erik shook his head. "No Nadir, nor do I ever have any reason to believe she ever shall, it was mere happenstance that she told me the story. She is wholly unaware of the significance, or of what release this very story gave me…an unintended gift." Erik's chest now fell as he released a relaxing, cleansing breath.

"You see the woman had stayed true to her promise, she'd not reveal any knowledge of the painter, nor his whereabouts, it had been her solemn vow. Christine said the woman had no intentions of selling even one of them, no matter what the price or condition, but the last terms had infuriated her, the pompous arrogance of the beast had repulsed her." Erik's smile grew wide…then a mournful look overcame him. "Perhaps those without eyes can better see evil for what it is, far sooner than those of us who are easily impressed by wealth and grandeur. Perhaps it is we who are truly blind…"

A moment of silence fell between Erik and Nadir. They'd both talked many times of that very subject…that they'd been blinded by what they had perceived as great gain.

Erik inhaled, looking at Nadir; he continued. "She'd not reveal what she knew, in fact though she loathes, no abhors dishonesty, she'd spun a yarn quite of her own accord, telling that beast that the painter had died just several years before…a fever of some kind or another." Erik looked at Nadir, who was breathing a bit easier now. "As I understand it, the woman became enraged, and did not even stay to be measured for the garments for which her initial visit had been arranged." Erik glanced at Nadir again. "I think we may have finally been released from the fear that she would find us Nadir."

Nadir was looking down, yes he was relieved, but not entirely certain that they were safe, for he was not living in the shadows as Erik had been, he'd no disguise to hide behind.

Erik, sensing Nadir's thoughts, interjected, "Nadir, it was because of me…my refusal…that she would have hunted you. You were but a means to an end, it was I who she'd wished to torture, to break. If she now thinks me dead, there shall be no fear that she will return. You my friend, are a freed man….just as I am!" He turned taking both of Nadir's shoulders into his firm grip. "Do you not see, we can live…we can live a life not in the shadows of fear of that beast's return?"

Nadir blinked. Yes, it was true that the past, the past of Persia, may very well indeed lay behind them, but what now of Paris, of Christine? Truly, they were not yet free, there was much to conquer, though this battle held much less fear of the depth of evil the last surely would have waged.

"Erik, what of life now…what will life now bring to your doorstep?" Nadir's question deep and sincere.

"That my friend," Erik said with such assuredness, "only time and fate will tell. I know only that in this moment, I am a man full of happiness, full of hope that life will be manageable." He rapped his knuckles on the cold hard surface of the coffin that lay beneath them. "I am assured now that I'll have no use for this in my life until I've come to its natural end. A life spent wholly around loving my wife, rearing our children, and in the company of dear, dear friends. I shall lay in this coffin nary again until my life has been fully lived, and all that I was born for. accomplished."

Nadir smiled at him, "very well my friend, very well." Nadir only hoped that one day the could be a part of opening further doors of Erik's life that would hold more possibility than Erik himself could ever have imagined.

"Nadir?" Erik said glancing at his friend. "Do not worry for Perdue…he has been paid in full, you are released of that obligation."

Nadir shot him a glance. Perdue had obviously told him of the payment. Once again, Erik had rescued his honor, and yet again, he found himself indebted to his friend.


	183. Unfinished Business

**Chapter 183 Unfinished Business**

Christine and Meg lay on their backs smiling and laughing, and crying, as Meg shared all that had happened since she'd come to live with Raoul. There had been so very much to tell.

Christine let out a staggered half-breath, as the tears from fits of laughter began to wane. She turned once again up on her side, a sudden air of heart-felt wonder settling upon her. "Meg, can you imagine yourself…living there with him…forever?" Christine turned her head looking at Meg.

Meg swallowed, she'd pondered that question herself, a hundred times, "yes." She replied, a degree of hesitant certainty in her voice.

Christine smiled at her, reaching out to grasp her hand. "Then it shall be as you and I always imagined when we were but wistful adolescent. Both marrying kings in distant lands. We shall pray for each other by day. And by night, when we are looking up into the evening sky, we shall wish upon the stars in the heavens for our very happiness."

Christine blinked as her eyes locked with Meg's. "The one alteration we shall make to our fantasy my dear sister, shall be that we will find a way, at least once each year, some excuse, to find our way into one another's company. With Nadir near to us, such arrangements should quite easily be possible, shan't they?"

Meg's eyes were red, her cheeks dotted with red blotches here and there as she smiled bravely and nodded at Christine. "My dear sister…yes we shall. Though to be parted that long, from snowfall to snowfall shall be most difficult."

Christine and Meg's heads both turned, as they heard laughter, hearty laughter coming from the outer room. The pair sat up. It was Erik and Nadir, but they'd have no idea what it was that would have caused them such humor. They rose from the bed, quickly scurrying toward the entrance. Peeking out squinting and blinking to readjust their eyes to the light, they saw Nadir and Erik, lifting Madame Giry to a standing position, she looking a bit dazed and tired, apologizing profusely.

"My dearest Antoinette, there is no need for apology, you've had a most strenuous day. I laugh only to have found a quite proper lady curled into a little ball laying as a child caught napping on the shore!"

From Madame Giry's stern glare, Meg and Christine could tell she'd found no humor in being discovered unaware. They smiled as they walked out to join the trio.

Erik smiled compassionately as he walked over taking Christine by the hand, placing a tender kiss in the palm. "My dear, and what have the two of you talked about for so very long?"

Christine sighed, her bright eyes searching Erik's face before she replied, "all that sisters parted as we've been would!" She leaned forward kissing Erik's cheek playfully.

Meg walked passed the two, making her way to Nadir and her mother. She turned looking at Christine. "I dare say we've been rather remiss," she was shaking her head, "I shan't recall any discussion of names…names for your children, have you chosen?"

Erik responded before Christine could even collect her thoughts. "We've a few, though we are not yet certain. Though we have decided to wait until their birth, to see if the names befit them before we set upon them." Erik looked at Christine for agreement, she was nodding her head. "Names are most important do you not think?"

Meg was smiling, "so you are not going to tell us?" she said chidingly.

Christine smiled up at Erik, their fingers intertwining as she spoke. "When we've decided dear sister, I shall see to making you aware of it."

Madame Giry was finally starting to awaken from the deep sleep-induced stupor. "Dear Christine, how have you felt, is all well?" She asked with great compassion in her voice as she walked toward her.

Erik released Christine's hand as Madame Giry came along side her, reaching out to touch her cheek. Erik turned to leave, certainly they would prefer to be alone as this was the discussions of one mother to another, and though he were a parent, an equal share in it, he could not here be included. Though it pained him, for he wanted to be with her for every excruciating, exhilarating, euphoric, moment of the journey.

Madame Giry reached out grabbing his hand, looking up at him with a serious tone. "No Erik…you are family now…do not run away from your destiny Erik. These children are a blessing to you both, and Christine will require you to be with her every step on the path."

Nadir watched the budding family with a faint degree of jealousy. He'd no children to love as this woman loved, no family, except the one he now gazed upon, and even they were not truly his. He was suddenly feeling out of place as Christine, Madame Giry, and Erik came to rest on the collection of trunks in the outer room. He glanced at them, the small group of people he so loved, yet felt as an outsider looking in. He'd thought about returning to the room he and Erik had visited in, when he felt a gentle hand slip into his. Turning to look, there stood Meg, staring up at him.

She glanced at her mother, who gave her a singular nod. "You Nadir, you must join us, for you are no less family than any of us now."

Nadir felt a great sob rising in his chest as he looked down into Meg's sincere eyes. "Come Nadir, come home with me." He could not refuse her. She led him over to join the others.

There in that circle the group shared in the joy of the impending arrival of the yet unnamed children. They spoke of what plans they would make to see to ensuring visits to Courtland Manor. They spoke of times at Courtland Manor when they'd joined in such fun, though Erik felt left out in some. They spoke of the night that Erik had awoken, when all manner of people had paraded in and out of his room, raising his ire enough for him to shout at the lot of them. Erik's cheek had begun to twitch as they mocked with what great distain he'd addressed them. Before long, the conversation naturally drifted to Sara.

"She was buried this afternoon." Erik said matter-of-factly.

Madame Giry, Meg, and Christine all turned to look at Erik. They'd expected Nadir to know of Sara's final disposition, not Erik.

He continued. "Do not worry, she is in a peaceful place, at the crest of a hill overlooking Paris. Aside from resting next to her husband, it would have been a place she would have chosen."

"But how did you know?" Christine looked at Erik quizzically.

All radiance disappearing from Erik's face as he spoke. He knew his subsequent words would be received with a bit of horror. "Last night, I'd paid a call to LeMortem Street," he flashed a stern look demanding agreement from Christine, "that was why I'd left Christine alone for several hours as she slept." His eyes fixed and serious. Christine simply nodded in agreement. "It was then that I discovered that she'd yet to be buried." Erik glanced down, yet another confession. "There was one lot…..," Erik paused, his breathing staggered now…it would have been his. He swallowed. "Perdue saw to her being buried there. On the morrow, before our return to the winter house, Christine and I shall pay a visit, our last respects to a woman to whom I owe my very life."

Meg's eyes were wide with revulsion. First that Erik had traveled LeMortem Street at night, though she doubted it would have frightened him. And second that he'd had access to a plot in the cemetery.

Madame Giry broke the awkward silence. "If we were to go, all to go, after midnight when the City sleeps, we could pay our respects together." She'd not felt this boldness before, but somehow, she knew the very act would have meant a great deal to the woman who had given them so very much. For without her kind generosity, and ultimate sacrifice, they would not be sitting in that very room on that night in one another's company. It was as it should be because of Sara.

Erik looked at Nadir. Nadir looked at Meg, whose mouth was gaping. Christine's face lacked expression.

"It is decided then. We shall leave after midnight." Erik said with an authoritative tone. "We do know with what risk we shall come to do this do we not?" Everyone around the circle nodded. "Perhaps it is best that we not travel in a group, it would only further the attention that we would attract moving about a cemetery after twilight."

Christine's head had begun to pound; she reached up rubbing feverishly at her temples. "No, no…" she whispered, her breathing coming shallow and labored. A hush fell over the huddled cluster. She returned their glances, though it appeared she looked beyond them at something that tortured her, an indisputably grave concern in her eyes.

She blinked, her present focus returning. "No," she said austerely, "we shall not travel there before the sun rises on the morrow….we must not travel there in the shadows. When the sun has risen, and all manner of commoners travel too and fro, businesses begin bustling….there shall be no question of a group traveling in a cemetery to pay their last respects to a fresh grave of a newly buried, dearly departed friend."

She blinked heavily trying to hold back the earnestness in her voice. What she knew, and they did not, was it had nothing to do with propriety nor the fear of being discovered. It was a feeling far deeper, far darker than any she'd ever known and it frightened her beyond reason. She looked at them each seriously. "If we were to travel to the cemetery in the black of night, would we not look as if we were trying to avoid prying eyes…all the more reason to question?" She had a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something was wrong, desperately wrong with traveling there that night, she could feel it.

Erik took her trembling hand into his. "Christine do not worry yourself." He looked at the others. Turning back to face Christine, "if it troubles you so to travel there this night, we shall wait until the morrow." He leaned in kissing her delicately at the temples of her now dampened forehead.

Christine nodded her head, inhaling sharply. She couldn't say what feeling had overcome her, but it had sent a chill up her spine such as she'd not felt before. "Thank you Erik." She leaned into his expansive chest, he enveloping her in his protective grasp. Christine instantly felt warmth returning to her. It was as if a frigid presence had passed by so closely, it had chilled her skin to the depth of her bone.

"Very well then, let us say that after the noon meal on the morrow, we shall meet there, at the cemetery gates. After we've paid our respects, Christine and I shall be returning once more to Chauesser." He glanced at the others for agreement.

"Erik that shall be most advantageous as I've business at sunrise with the magistrate, and I should think that he would most like to work until the meal hour." In truth, Nadir was thankful for the additional reason to convince Meg and Madame Giry to tarry in Paris for the evening.

Meg's pulse began to race. "It will be most difficult Nadir, to explain yet another trip into the City from whence we've just come?"

Nadir turned, realizing Meg's concern. Madame Giry gave him a knowing glance, she'd already surmised his intentions. Nadir reached out his hand taking Meg's into his. "My dearest Meg, do not worry, we shall stay here, in your mother's quarters this evening, and return to Raoul's on the morrow after we've visited Sara's grave."

Meg's eyes grew wide, "but Nadir, if he should wake and find that I've utterly abandoned him….his entire house is celebrating his acts of heroism and I will not be there to join them in his support?" Meg had almost forgotten that Erik and Christine were in the room.

Erik closed his eyes tightly, exhaling. Christine squeezed his hand. Nadir shot him a concerned glance. The mere mention of the name caused him pain.

"Meg, I assure you, the medicines that the doctor has seen to giving Raoul are meant for his own good. They make him sleep so that he might heal properly from his fall."

Christine's eyes now wide with question. "Fall?"

Erik held her more closely to support her. Meg turned to her and began to explain the story.

Erik listened patiently as Meg recanted the well-crafted story to Christine. His focus remained on her and her only. He could quite easily tell that Christine leant Meg concern for Raoul only as it affected Meg. The joy in that knowledge was all that provided relief to him as he heard the story of Raoul's bravery and heroism. Little truth did they know…and it was better that way.

"That is why Christine, Nadir, that I've want to return to his side…he held my hand, comforted me through my darkest hours." Meg was looking down at the ground mournfully resigned to the fact she could do precious little to alter the plans that were now laid.

Christine came forward soothing Meg. "I know of what troubles you dear sister…I too waited long months for Erik to open his eyes once more."

Meg flashed Christine an apologetic glance. In her own trepidations, she'd nearly forgotten the struggles that the pair had endured. She suddenly felt ashamed for her haste.

"Meg, if the doctor has told you that he should rest, and if he has been given medicine that is aide in that end, then do not worry for Raoul. You could do nothing for him if you were there. The doctor is seeing to his care…you shan't worry." Christine patted Meg's hand that she'd unconsciously seized.

Meg nodded. "Your words carry much weight in my heart Christine, for if anyone would understand, it would be you." She closed her eyes, fighting back the urge to beg for their immediate return to Raoul's. "Very well."

Erik sighed. The visit had been long, productive, yet trying for all of them. "The three of you best see to your return to the floors above. No doubt the dinner hour has come and gone. If you were not to resurface this night, concern as to your whereabouts will no doubt spread rumor through the staff, making its way back to DeChagny. It is best that you retire to Madame Giry's quarters as was planned. Christine and I shall return to the seamstress, having a proper visit as was planned."

"Seamstress?" Madame Giry and Meg both turned their attention to Erik.

Erik exhaled. Nadir swooped in to rescue him from a fresh discourse. "I shall explain it all to you over dinner dear ladies, though was shall have to do so quite privately." He glanced at Erik who looked relieved. He turned back to them. "If you've more questions about her, do remember we shall see one another again tomorrow."

Madame Giry and Meg nodded in ascent.

Nadir was nodding at Erik now too. "Yes, yes, it is most prudent that we follow through. No doubt someone will be looking for us with a late supper. The sleigh driver would likely have been instruction to see to its delivery to her quarters since we'd not come to the diningroom proper."

A silence fell upon them now. The group no more wanted to be parted than they were hungry, but they knew they must, it was best. They exchanged embraces and kind words, as they parted ways. Nadir drew the boat from its perch, escorting Madame Giry, and then Meg into the craft, at last climbing in himself.

"Until the morrow dear friends. Rest well." Nadir said as he pushed the boat from shore.

Erik and Christine stood looking out at the trio who were now moving further and further away.

Erik watched as Nadir used the pole to push the boat through the waters. Meg and Madame Giry sat staring silently back at Christine. They'd see one another in but a few hours. They'd gather again, at Sara's grave. It would be yet another brief, bittersweet reunion. It would no doubt be the last time they'd do so on her account…and they'd want to do it together.

Erik stood watching and listening until the last hint of light from the lantern disappeared, no hint of sound of the water being disturbed. He wanted to be certain, utterly certain before he could even turn to look at her, for he was not certain he'd be able to control his urges.

He sighed, preparing to turn around…feeling a warm hand on his shoulder. He closed his eyes as it traveled up his shoulder to the back of his neck, slipping just beneath the edge of his shirt where it met his neck. Her fingers quickly making work of it so that the warmth of her palm now rested on his flesh. She was humming a tune he knew well. He slowly turned to look down into her alluring eyes. His own chest rising with seeming difficulty as he tried to regulate his breathing. "Christine…"

She stood as tall as her body would allow, kissing just under his jaw where its base met the neck. "My Angel….my brought his hands to rest on either side of Christine's face, looking down deeply into her eyes. "My love, oh how I've waited for you."

She breathed into his ear, then began placing light kisses on his neck. "Oh how I too longed for you."

Erik looked down at Christine, knowing full well that she was serious. Slowly he lifted her into his arms. She running hers around his neck as he carried her slowly to the swan, gazing at her all the while. It was like the slow pleasure of rolling a fresh berry on one's tongue, trying to enjoy every flavor that it held before finally consuming it. She whispered into his ear, her warm breath making Erik's skin tingle. "Sing to me Phantom….take me to where you imagined we would be. She kissed his ear, running her hand down his neck, coming to rest on his chest.

Erik looked down as he carried her into the room, standing there swaying as he began to sing…."Night time sharpens heightens each sensation, darkness stirs and wakes imagination, silently the senses abandon their defenses." He kissed her as he put her feet gently to the floor. His hands began to roam her back, her shoulders. His eyes never leaving hers.

"Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendor, grasp it sense it tremulous and tender, turn your face away from the garish light of day, turn your thoughts away from cold unfeeling light and listen to the music of the night."

He began circling her, his voice growing more intense, "close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams, purge your thoughts of the life you knew before, close your eyes let your spirit start to soar, and you'll live as you've never lived before."

Christine shuddered as Erik's hands slowly began to reach behind her, releasing each of the satin ribbons that so delicately bound her dress to her frame. "Softly, deftly music shall caress you, hear it, feel it, secretly possess you, open up your mind let your fantasies unwind in this darkness that you know you cannot fight, the darkness of the music of the night."

His hands began to bunch the fabric of the dress in his hands pulling it up from the length passed her waist, drawing it ever upward. He looked at her; such intensity in his eyes. Part of what overtook him now was Erik…Christine's husband, the tender, caring, lover. The other part…the deep yearning part…was yet deeper still, one longing for release from the long unrequited love. She'd addressed him as Phantom…awakening that deep need he'd had to possess her…it was his fantasy come true...there in the room he'd prepared for their union.

"Let your mind start to journey to a strange new world leave all thoughts of the life you knew before, let your soul take you where you long to be," he lifted the dress over her head, allowing it to drop from his hand behind her, "only then can you belong to me."

Christine reached her hand up to the front of his shirt, removing that which remained of his cravat. Erik's breath became staggered, his eyes searching and longing as she placed a delicate kiss on the center of his chest. He took her into his arms, grasping at that which remained on her flesh.

"Floating, folding, sweet intoxication," Erik took Christine's hand into his, placing it on his chest abandoning it there.

"Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation," Erik began to affectionately kiss each cheek, and then each side of her neck. Christine instinctively ran her other arm around his waist, tugging at what remained of his shirt, until it gave way, fluttering to the floor coming to rest on top of her dress.

She began to quiver as Erik lifted her once more into his arms, carrying her to the edge of the bed, slowly laying her down into the swan. She gasped.

"Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in to the power of the music that I write."

Christine reached up, grasping both of Erik's shoulders, pulling his trembling flesh down with hers. Erik's voice now smooth and certain, "the power of the music of the night."

Christine breathed into his ear, whispering but once more… "this is what we both longed for…all those years…let us rewrite history…"

Erik could withhold his love for her no longer. "You alone can make my song take flight, help me make the music of the night."

Erik reached out, pulling at the long cord, releasing the black lace veil slowly around the swan.


	184. Fog

**Chapter 184 Fog**

Nadir lifted the heavy black veil from the doorway peering out to be certain that none were watching as they passed from behind the heavy gilded mirror. Though Meg and Madame Giry passed through it now with such casualness, it was all still very new to Nadir. With each step he felt as if he was ascertaining, taking in all of the years that Erik had found himself in seclusion. Unlike many a recluse, Erik, from all that Nadir had seen with his eyes, had been more productive than any man that lived on the surface of the earth he hid beneath. Erik was brilliant indeed, Nadir thought to himself as he watched Madame Giry push the mirror tightly against the wall until he could hear the click of a latch. She and Meg were traveling through the room in near obscurity now, toward the door leading out into the corridor to the foyer.

"Nadir?" Madame Giry said, reaching out to take his hand, "we really must go now. Erik's words were true, we have need to make most public notice of retrieving our dinner. It is necessary again, though I dare say I am a bit out of practice." She smiled at him as a small sliver of silvery light passed her face as she moved through the shadows. Her eyes glistening in the shafts.

Nadir nodded in the darkness, realizing his own folly. "Of course," he said in a most agreeable tone. "No doubt there are those who are loyal to Raoul, and when he awakes and takes realization that Meg has gone, he will no doubt have questions. It is best if there is only one version of the story for anyone to tell."

Madame Giry led him to the door where Meg even now waited patiently.

The trio made their way quickly out into the hall and down to the entrance on the side of the foyer. Nadir smiled at the two women. He knew that there was need to make a display of their entrance so as to appear, for any wandering or watching eye, that they'd just come into the Opera House. He nodded his head at them as he opened the door that they stood by and held it for a few seconds to be certain that a cool rush of air rushed in before he began to laugh heartily. "Ladies, I do not recall a finer evening. I dare say all of the imposed seclusion after the storm has made people quite mad! Now, do you think we might still find supper? If not, we could venture back.,…" Nadir carried on loudly as they made their way into the foyer proper stamping his boots for proper affect.

Madame Giry was behaving as if she was removing her outer garments, just having come in from the out of doors. Meg smiled, finally understanding her mother's command to put everything on just before they passed through the mirror. Though it seemed that there was no one there to view this supposed entrance, if there was, it would all appear copasetic. Perhaps the ability to live and conduct oneself with utter congruity took a bit of maturity. It was indeed a skill she dearly hoped she would learn with time; for her life would be lived in this altered world, having to keep straight two competing and opposing lives, for the benefit of both. Though it would be with great cost that she would maintain such a charade, she could conjure no suitable alternative that would allow her keep all of those whom she loved in her life. It was to be, now she'd only to find the courage, strength, and abilities to carry on.

"Nadir, I assure you this is a most attentive staff…" Madame Giry paused, a more prim and proper tone in her voice, "at least they were, I do so hope that they'd brought the same staff to cook for us, you will find that one in particular is a wonder. She was raised along the Mediterranean, and her dishes are infused with olive oils and spices not normally employed in most of Paris. Her ability to make use of what is in season is most exceptional. There is one dish in particular that…" She stopped dead in her tracks. She saw movement in the shadows of the darkened doorway.

"Madame Giry, how lovely to see you," the woman came forward to greet her properly. "And Miss Meg, it has been some time, I dare say you've grown more beautiful each day my dear." The woman's eyes were curiously studying the male companion that the women would most certainly have brought with them from DeChagny's. It was well known that the two had been staying with Raoul since the fire, much whispered conversation had passed through the halls in that very regard. "And who might this gentleman be?" The woman stepped forward as Nadir lifted his head now unable to avoid the woman as he had hoped. She gasped in horror, without a thought she retracted her hand, stepping back two steps. "Sir," she nodded her head.

Madame Giry and Meg stared at Nadir with such question, their hearts beginning to race, did the woman know him? And if she did, what were they to surmise of her reaction?

Nadir walked forward shaking the woman's hand. "I trust that the obligations I'd entrusted you with yesterday were taken care of?" Nadir tried to inflect as much question into his voice as he was able to, already knowing full-well the answer.

"Yes..yes, Monsieur, it was taken care of as you requested, last evening in fact. I understand that the woman was to be buried this day, if not on the morrow sir."

Nadir suddenly wondering what had led the woman to this knowledge…had she opened and read the note before its delivery? He frowned. "And you good Madame, how is it that you've knowledge of the woman's arrangement?"

The woman was suddenly uncomfortable. She'd need to be careful, not betraying any of the events out of her haste to reply. "You see sir, I'd asked for an escort last evening, a lady must not travel alone in the evening sir you understand."

Nadir nodded, hoping the woman's reply would not be painfully verbose.

"I did find someone, a gentleman to accompany me." She shook her head, brevity would aid in her ability to keep that which she wished to remain unknown, left in obscurity. "It was he sir, that the time came for high-tea this afternoon, delivered news to me that all had been cared for. I do believe that he'd returned to be assured that the man, Perdue was it?" She looked at Nadir for confirmation, and he nodded. "He made mention that the woman was taken care of and she was to be buried, and I was to share as much with you should I have opportunity to see you again." She flashed a glance toward Nadir.

Inwardly Nadir was relieved. "I see then, very well." He took on a more austere tenor. "Do you think it possible that an evening meal might well be…"

The woman smiled, she herself a bit relieved that he'd ask no more questions of her. "I've.."

Madame Giry came forward smiling at the woman, taking her hand, moving toward the corridor that led to the dining rooms below the foyer. "Nadir," she said looking over the shoulder, "this is the very woman of which I spoke! You simply must indulge in whatever she might find for us…even her toast tastes different!" Meg was nodding in agreement, having sampled some of the woman's delicacies. Though most often they were subjected to the common fare that all other Opera House staff were given, there were occasions, when the woman herself would provide them a treat, most often on Sundays.

The woman smiled at Madame Giry, "I've a lovely tomato augratin Madame, I know how very much you loved it so. When the carriage driver made mention that you'd most likely be taking in dinner with us…I hope you do not mind that I was so bold as to have selected your dinner for you mum."

Madame Giry smiled, sighing just slightly. It was good to be home. The Opera House had been the one place, in all of those years, that she'd felt at home, even though it was simply her place of employment, something about simply being within those walls filled her with a comfort that she'd forgotten. She'd appreciate it, embrace it while she could, for she, in truth, did not know what the next months would bring.

Nadir followed the three woman now to the lower levels. He was as curious as he was hungry. The last time he'd been in such a place…had been in Persia, and going to the lower levels there…it was never a memory that one had want to keep.

XXXX

Christine batted her eyes. Through the layers of thick black lace she could see a soft glow coming from the stove that lay off in the corner of the room. She could feel the warmth of the arms that surrounded her, and hear the steady, even breathing of a man now deep in slumber.

Somewhere along the way, Erik had risen to build the fire that was now providing comfort to the previously chilly cavern. She smiled as she woke further to realize that Erik had somehow wrapped his entire body around hers forming a human cradle within which she was safely nestled. She could feel the palm of his hand that lay so tenderly over her abdomen.

Something inside her had been satiated in what no doubt had been hours ago that they'd shared in their passions. It had been a deep painful wrong that had been righted. A dream, a fantasy, or whatever other word would be suitable, it had been what they both needed to leave this other life behind, having not left this one thing undone.

She turned her head on Erik's chest, looking up at him as she carefully slid up in his arms so that she might look upon his sleeping face. There was something odd about the way his face now laid, half in shadow. If she'd let her imagination run away with her, she could nearly imagine it being covered in the half-mask he had worn. She smiled. It was as if she loved two men…the one he had been…and the one he now was. Perhaps a part of her would always miss the Phantom, the power, the mystique. But what he was now…a man unafraid, unencumbered by the previous persona, oh how she loved him so.

Christine could not imagine going back…not for him, to that tortured time when he had no choice but to hide in darkness. The things that had been done, even those without his permission, had been a betterment in his life, allowing him the freedom to move about in society without a thought he'd be recognized. What irony, it was now she that had need to hide, be kept away from prying eyes for fear of discovery. Though she'd no disfigurement, her face would have caused equal horror; it was still something she would fear every time they were in Paris.

Carefully, slowly, she began to run her hand along Erik's cheek, pushing away the few stray hairs that had fallen across his forehead. He was handsome to her in so many ways. He was to her rather like one of the Greek Gods she'd read about in mythology, strong, Adonis like. Her attraction to him was equally intense no matter if she'd behold him with her eyes or her mind, for she loved him with all of her, not simply what she could see.

She nestled her head closer to his on the pillow and found herself wondering if he too would feel relieved that they'd tarried there. If he too would feel a sense of longing having met its satisfaction. She wanted to believe so in her heart. There was so very little that she could give him, but this, this one thing she hoped, would fill a part of him that had long been empty, for she knew in her mind that it had for her. She had wanted him, so very much wanted to be touched by him, loved by him, taken by him, that simply finding herself in his arms, in that bed, having surrendered herself to him in the most intimate of ways, was titillating. It was a dream, nay a fantasy come to life. She sighed, leaning in kissing his neck, then nestling her face into the deep recess between his flesh and the pillow he laid upon.

Erik's eyes fluttered open. The warm breath on his neck had begun to tickle at his skin. He turned his head, placing a kiss on Christine's forehead. He repositioned his arms around her, beginning to run his hands up and down the length of her back. "Christine…" he said in a sleepy voice.

She kissed his neck again, pushing herself back up once more to look him in the eye. "Erik, my love…" she leaned forward brushing her lips softly across his.

They lay looking into one another's eyes. Their thoughts seeming to search one another for confirmation that the other was as happy as they. Christine smiled, kissing Erik once more. He wrapped his hands firmly under her shoulder blades, pressing her against him, rolling her up on to his chest so that she was looking down at him. He left her to rest there as his hands wandered up to her face.

"My dear beautiful Christine. You are a wonder to me. How is it possible that you surprise me each day with your wisdom…love me with your heart in ways I'd not known existed…"

Christine leaned down placing a tender, yet decidedly more intense kiss upon his lips. A tingle running up and down her spine. Their lips parted. "Erik, I do not know…I dare say I do not know what it is, or how I find…I do not know…it is what comes into my heart each time I am near you. I simply do not fight it I suppose. I allow our love to make its own way." She looked down at him, kissing his temple, slowly sliding down to lay next to him.

Erik turned on his side so that he faced Christine on the pillow, their eyes once again searching the other's. "Your love to me is like an ocean, and each day I swim in it fearing I'll drown, and somehow I float along its gentle waves, and find myself safely on the shore each morning, yearning for only one thing, to dive back into the surreal depths of it yet again." Erik said as he pulled Christine closer to him, kissing the tips of each finger of the hand that had been gently roaming his chest. She smiled, a rosy blush covering her. "In all of the great love stories…Tristan and Isolde, Romeo and Juliet, King Arthur and Lady Gwenevier, in all of that reading, I thought I'd come to understand great love." He touched Christine, his eyes glistening as he looked deeply into hers. "I could only have imagined what joy it should be to love, and be loved by another in such a way." He leaned over kissing her softly. "Those untested thoughts that wandered in the wilderness of my mind, in the winter of my soul, before you came to love me, now seem infinitesimal. I've come to know, one can never truly understand that of which they have not partaken. I shan't have ever imagined how very replete, satiated, I would feel, now having known such love."

Christine could do nothing more than gaze admiringly, dotingly, at Erik, for she knew that her words would seem frail and amateurish in the brilliant shadow of his eloquence. She leaned forward, her lips tenderly caressing Erik's. Her hands passing behind his neck, pulling her flesh tightly to him. "I love you," she whispered in his ear as he took her once more into his arms.

"And I love you Christine," he breathed into her lips as he held her. "This night a dream, nay a fantasy was laid to rest here my love. I shall be forever indebted to you Christine…"

She beamed as she came to rest on his chest playfully. "It shan't be so my love, for do you not think that I too had longed for this? Had I not confessed as much to you? A maiden ready to throw herself from a rooftop is not merely looking for chance to hold her wanton lover's hand! I needed to be yours in all of the ways that mattered my love…." She breathed once more on his neck as she planted light kisses on it, causing Erik to shudder. She laughed, "and now I am. There is no debt here…promise only that you'll love me forever."

Erik paused, a swell growing in his chest. "Until the ends of time itself Christine, until the sun ceases to rise, and the moon refuses to glow…until God removes them both from the heavens, only then will I beg of Him to have mercy on me to love you even still."

Christine's lips began to tremble, a tear growing in her eye….that is all she wanted to hear…though in her heart of hearts, she had known it all along.

There was a brief moment of intensity when they held one another. When no speech was necessary, a pair of souls joining on the bridge of love, walking over to the other side. A love that knew no bounds, and would never again turn back to anything other than what it was now…love in its rawest, purest form.

A great smile grew across Erik's face as he looked up at Christine with the love of a husband in his eyes. Erik growled as he turned Christine to her back kissing each cheek. She let out a staggered breath. "Erik?"

He held his face away from her looking into her eyes.

She longed for one more thing, one more thing to be done… "play for me?"

Erik flinched. It had not all been what he had expected. It had been a very long while indeed since his hands had graced the organ in the depths of the Opera House in the way that Christine was referring. Yes, he'd run his fingers over them when he'd been there the hours ago, but now…she was asking for him, nay, the Phantom to return in his glory? "Christine…I…"

Christine ran her hands up behind his neck, holding his face straight so she might look upon him without distraction. "Erik, it was what we longed for, the very song that you sang to me…how is it that we could share music together so many times, and now, in the pinnacle of the moment when tutor and pupil can at last satisfy their unrequited love, how is it that we could possibly avoid, abandon that most intrinsic part of the dream….for it is your music that brought us together my love. I've no intention of asking you to remove yourself from it…it is part of who you are…the man I've come to love." She kissed his lips tenderly. "Play for me Erik…let us create the music of the night, here…here in this place, as it should have been. It is what we wanted, what we imagined, what we longed for, let us not neglect this part of the dream dear Erik…let me be yours once more in all of your dark glory, all of that which drew us to one another…for it goes to the very core of our longings…how can we deny ourselves this?"

Erik's heart began to swell in his chest. She had understood him, had wanted what he wanted, and now, even though she loved him, had become his wife, she wanted his every fantasy satisfied within him. He could scarcely take it in that she'd the ability to love him as she did, to know what he needed, even more than he himself knew.

Without a word Erik crawled from beneath the comforts of the silken sheets, donning his white shirt. He lifted Christine into his arms, swaddling her in the sheets as he carried her in his arms over to the organ. He sat her gently on the top so he might gaze into her eyes as he began to play. He inhaled running his fingers across the cool ivory. He was nearly light headed from the euphoria of what was now transpiring…a fantasy come true in the flesh. He closed his eyes as he had always played the instrument, pushing his fingers down, the instrument a bit reluctant. A shiver went up his spine as Christine reached out running her fingers along his collarbone, and up his cheek. He no longer had need to close his eyes. He no longer had to imagine it, wonder what it would be like, for his dream had come true. There she was, beckoning him to return once more to the fantasy that had raged so many years unreleased inside of him. A part of him he no longer had to wish would die to release him from his agony. For she had reached into him, breathing life into that part of his being, changing it forevermore to be mended, whole, satisfied.

"Play for me…" she entreated with a smoldering glance.

He returned her gaze with the intensity of a brilliant sun as his hands began to move in utter familiarity over the keys, his voice growing to join the music as the time came for it.

Everything about the man she now watched enthralled Christine. Her trembling flesh could only drink in the experience, for they would never be there, in that place, in that time, in that way again. She knew as the music wafted through the cavern, circling her, taking her in from every direction, that these moments would be ones that they would remember for all the rest of their days. Fantasies so seldom came true…but they were making theirs.

XXXXXX

The man had finally come to rest, book in hand, satisfied with his day's work. He was ready for her visit, all with exception of the food to be prepared. He leaned back against the cool stone, one arm tucked behind him as he opened the book, leafing to the page whose corner had been bent the night previous to mark his place. He inhaled, and began to read. As he did, his brow furrowed. He sat up, placing the book down on the bed. He stood, and walked over the wall behind his bed. Placing his knee on the top of the small trunk of clothes, he leaned forward, pressing his cheek against the cool, smooth stone. He closed his eyes.

"No!" he exclaimed under his breath, "it cannot be!" He pulled his head away, his eyes now wide with terror, a cold sweat quickly forming on his clean-shaven upper lip. He paced a few steps, hands firmly on his hips. "It is my imagination run away with me…it cannot be." He muttered to himself.

After a few minutes time he ventured wearily back to the wall, knee on the trunk, leaning his other cheek against the stone. He closed his eyes. Breathing a sigh of relief. It was his imagination. For a fleeting moment he had thought he could feel it. The old familiar deep vibration of the stone that seemed to come from the center of the earth just before the Phantom presented himself somewhere in the Opera House.

He'd at first thought it to be a coincidence, and indeed sometimes the vibrating did not produce a visit. But, it had seemed, more times than not, that when the vibrations were at their worst, something terrible would befall someone there. He'd noted with particular interest it was at its worst after DeChagny had arrived, and often after Carlotta performed in recent years. He shook his head. Oh how he'd let his imagination get the best of him since the night that he and the maid had traveled to LeMortem Street. He'd been certain that was who he had seen then, now this…. No, it simply was his own fears rising to threaten him.

He retreated once more to his bed, reclining, taking the book into his hand. This time, he leaned his back carefully against the wall. He'd read a few more pages, when he felt it again. This time he dropped the book, leapt from the bed, pushing the trunk out of the way with his foot, pressing not only his cheek, but his entire chest against the wall. He closed his eyes. Yes…he could feel it indeed. The rhythmic vibration of the stone against the sensitive surface of his flesh. His eyes grew wide as he backed away from the stone, nearly tumbling to the ground as he tripped on the trunk he'd flung to the center of the room. "No…." was all he could manage. He stood in the center of the room, entirely paralyzed with fear. If the Phantom had returned…how great would his thirst be now….now that he'd had a taste for it?

XXXXX

The night was in its fullness; the hours until morning arrived were few. The darkness swirled in the vapors. The fog so very typical of London, now seeming to have paid a temporary visit to the City of Paris. The gas lanterns of the streets casting an eerie glow through the smoky haze, little if any vision was possible more than several feet beyond the length of one's arm.

A distance from the city proper laid the cemetery where Sara herself had come to rest that very afternoon. Several fresh graves had been dug that day, most yet unoccupied.

Through the swirling mist, if one were very careful….looked closely…they would realize that they were not alone. A dozen, nay, more than that, dark cloaks moving silently among the grave markers. It was an eerie quiet, punctuated only by several shrill cries of hares being snared here and there. The fresh turned earth had produced the greens the rabbits had searched for beneath the snows. It was the only place near the City where the animals would venture out, their point of making their way there that night.

The eerie glow cast by the moon in the cemetery through the fog, leant only ever more veracity to the terror that would have been witnessed had any unfortunate souls found their way there that night. The grave-diggers having left only hours before had quite unknowingly left their scent behind. Undoubtedly it had enticed them out of hiding. The City as of late, had produced little in the form of promise; in large part due to the storm. They were grateful it only happened once or twice in a hundred years time.

The group had momentarily huddled on one grave in particular, at the crest of a small knoll, overlooking Paris. A silent agreement had been reached, it was not to be touched. Even the animals had shunned that bit of earth; it seemed tainted, poisonous.

A sudden thunderous resonance caused a flurry of cloaks in the blackness. It was the pounding of the hooves of a large horse just beyond the cemetery gates; someone obviously on their way in earnest into Paris. They'd thought about falling upon the passerby, but they had tarried. One such as he gone missing would raise too many questions. They'd simply have to wait…wait until the streets of Paris returned once more to a more favorable plethora of suitable scourge. For now, they'd found what they'd sought. Morning would not be far off….they'd a theater to return to…and so they made their way.

The great white horse disappeared into the thick fog. It's rider obscured by the veil of darkness and a long hooded cloak. It was if the beast knew the way into the City by heart.


	185. Chasing Shadows

Chapter 185 Chasing Shadows 

Erik and Christine lay silently in the masses of fabrics strewn haphazardly across the organ. The room had grown silent, save for the sound of the wind rushing in and out of their lungs. The warming fires in the stove had greatly diminished. Even now they were barely a glimmer. Thought they lay nearly bare, they were not cold.

"Christine," Erik said gently, "what was it that troubled you so, caused you such worry to plead for us to delay in our mourning for Sara?"

Christine sat up, a sudden chill running down the length of her back. "I do not know how to describe it, to give words to the feeling Erik. It was very much like the visions I've had," her brow furrowed, her look distant, "though my mind was black…not black…as much as uncomprehending…devoid of any sight. I could perceive nothing but the intense sense of apprehension at the very thought of venturing there in the darkness." She glanced down at Erik, who now rose to join her, slipping his arm protectively around her. She looked up at him. "It was not a simple girl's fear of the tales of cemeteries, I can assure you. This was dark, foreboding somehow…" she seemed lost in thought.

Erik leaned over placing a kiss on her temple. "It is all well Christine, do not worry. In truth, Nadir had need to stay in the City, though he'd thought most seriously about returning the ladies to DeChagny's and returning alone on the morrow." Erik said, gently running his hand along Christine's exposed back. "We shall have opportunity to visit the woman before we leave Paris, and to see our dear friends once more, it is as it should be." Erik said trying to soothe her with his reassuring words.

Christine leaned into Erik's embrace. "We should set off Erik. I've no sense of what time it has grown to be, but it must very nearly be morning. The dear woman will want to have some rest. No doubt she's been up all night working on garments for some unappreciative snobbish bores in the City." Christine frowned. "It is a shame really that the poor woman has had to support herself in this way all of these long years." She said as she began to ease herself toward the edge the organ.

Erik slid off with ease, lifting Christine gracefully to her feet. "You shan't pity the woman, she is loathe for anyone to pity her. In truth she feels it has only made her craft all the more perfected, for when one perceives with touch, it is all so very much different than what one perceives with one's eyes. She shared with me, on a number of occasions, that she can feel how someone will receive their garments. Every seam is even, every thread or possible irritation removed so that it is not only comely but comfortable as it lays upon one's skin. She's often bragged that were it not for propriety, that her garments could be worn without corset or slip, as they'd produce no discomfort to the skin."

Erik smiled as he led Christine into the room, gently gliding her slip over her head to rest upon her still damp flesh. He leaned over stroking her collarbone, placing a kiss on her shoulder.

Christine smoothed the satin as Erik retrieved her dress, easily slipping it over her, affixing the ribbons in the back. "She does beautiful work does she not?" Erik said as he turned Christine around to gaze at her. "It suits you my dear." He brushed a stray hair over her shoulder.

"Now I best see to dressing myself shan't I!" Erik said in a chiding manner.

Christine turned and went about making the bed. Erik turned giving her an odd glance. "Christine?" She smiled. "I shall think not to leave your house in such a state."

Erik returned to her side, now fully clothed. "No one will pass here again my dear…why do you worry for appearance?" He twinged at his own hypocrisy. Had he not done the very same thing the day previous?

Christine smiled at him, pecking his cheek. "It is not for anyone else my dear…it is out of respect for a memory that I shall carry with me for the remainder of the days I have breath…a sweet memory….I'll not have it tainted for either of us by any imperfection…no matter how seemingly insignificant now." She smiled once more, reaching out to arrange his cravat.

Erik could do nothing more than shake his head in wonder. Yes, she was young in terms of years, but her soul, the part she would take with her, and share with him…seemed to have the sage wisdom of a woman bent from the weight of years upon her frame, wrinkled and experienced in the matters of the mind and heart. She amazed him with her words more often than not.

"Very well my dear, as you will," Erik said turning his attentions to putting out the fire in the stove. The smoldering ashes provided little resistance once smothered. He moved now from candle to candle, extinguishing them with a long handled snuffer.

Christine watched, knowing that with each candle that lost its light the moments were moving progressively into the past rather than the present. One could not tarry in a moment forever, she knew, but if she could, she would have chosen ones such as these.

Finally Erik held in his hand the last lit candle as he took Christine's hand and led her over to the plank that lay pushed up against the craggy rocks. He used his foot to balance it as she climbed on it with the agility of a gazelle. Carefully, he climbed on along side her, holding her closely until it ceased in its rocking. They gazed back at the organ, at the bed. Erik's eyes traveling once more through the cavern that would now lay abandoned, never to be occupied by the Phantom. One day he alone would return to gather the remainder of his fortune, but for now, it would be a very long good-bye.

He thrust the pole into the waters, pushing them away from the shore. They clung to one another as they passed through the porticos, and out into the channel beyond the lagoon. Erik pressed a lever, and the great candelabras sank slowly into the depths of the now darkened waters. As the last of the light flickered from view, Erik leaned down carefully kissing Christine's forehead. "Thank you my love." He whispered. "Thank you from the very bottom of my soul…"

Christine nestled her head into Erik's chest. They both knew that their business there had been settled. If they were never to see those caverns again, they shan't mourn for something that had never taken place, for they'd seen to putting every fantasy to rest.

XXXX

The rider had swiftly dismounted his steed in the stables behind the Opera Populaire. The stable master had given nothing more than a discerning glance and nod to the man as he took the reins of the beast leading it in for food and rest. From the looks of things the poor horse had been ridden hard, for how long or far, he could not say.

His head was swimming, whether it be from the fog, or the drug, or the lack of proper rest, he did not know, but it felt as if he were operating from beyond his own body, an existential collection of thoughts and movements that motivated him onward.

The stairs in the foyer of the Opera House seemed pristine and polished to perfection, normally something he would have reveled in. Tonight, nay in the fleeting twilight, they were nothing more than a perfunctory tool taking him from one floor to the next. His destination was not the upper floors, nor was it the dormitories, nor even the level of the props-master, but deeper still. As he passed through the back rooms that were normally littered with every surfeit of stage prop, he noticed only that his travels were not impeded.

He had made his way to the delivery entrance, and to the flight of stairs he'd sought months before. They had been lighted then by the ranks of the Opera House, and held for him mild terror then. His present state was far more than terror, it was a self-induced, drug littered consciousness, that produced every manner of suspicion and fear that a man in his naïve heart, and frail soul could muster. He was to travel it in near blackness, for nary a torch could be found.

Making his way down, circling floor after floor, until he'd thought himself lost within the workings of his own mind. Indeed had he but imagined it all? The walls were chilled and slimy in parts, causing him, on several occasions, to recoil in disgust. His mind was swimming, not only from the wound at the back of his head, but also at the thought that the only weapon he had was the pistol in the belt about his waist, and even that contained only three bullets. He'd found it on the table in the library. In his haste, he'd not wanted to tarry taking the time to refit himself with more.

In truth, his flight into Paris that night had been more of a reflex than a conscious decision; and even now as he descended, he questioned himself. Had he not already found a love that was more suited? Seemingly the one foretold by his mother? It had given him pause at more than one point in his journey to the depths, but it was some other unspoken commitment from long ago that drove him deeper still at great peril to himself. For what would he truly do if he found him? Would he too be laid to rest next to the body of the one to whom he'd been betrothed, Meg never knowing whatever had become of him?

He simply chose to forget all of the potential repercussions, and focus only on that which drove him to the depths in the first….he had seen him…and something…something had happened when that boy had aimed his gun at him…he had not shot him…he knew he had not…but why…who….that was what drove him. If the beast was to make an end to him, then so be it. If the beast had mind to return Christine, then so be it. If it had been his imagination….then certainly he would learn of it. For if the visit produced nothing…if he found nothing…then he would dismiss his thoughts as folly and accept that which was being told of him, that he had indeed made a glorious end to the notorious Crawlings. As for now, he would accept nothing until he was certain that the monster had not returned.

How then would he be assured that the beast would have tarried there? He did not know But something of instinct had taken over, and he could not fight it. It was because of that very instinct that he found himself where he was now. If the visit left him empty-handed and wondering, he would venture to the floors above where the others certainly had taken leave and even now rested in those comforts. If he did indeed find the Phantom, as he suspected….well….nature would take a hand in how that interaction would play out.

Raoul dabbed at his brow as he came to what he was certain was the final floor. There had been a great lion head protruding from the last of the stairs, something he had noted the first time he had passed this way, surely his memory did not fail him, and the waterway that led to the lair would be not far off on the right.

He walked along the even corridor until he came to an opening which he knew would contain either boat or raft of some sort. If it did not…if it did not…he would have to wait. Even in his hazy stupor, Raoul knew he was not yet well enough to plunge into the frigid depths of the waters traversing them as he once had. His hands eagerly searched the dark cavern for what seemed to be an eternity until he'd happened upon a rather large plank, carelessly abandoned at the water's edge. He felt a bit more, and there was a pole. His head was pounding, his heart racing. He'd no idea if what he now ventured to do was wise, but he'd no choice. It was either run and live in fear, or face the very thing that one feared the most. He'd decided that fate could no sooner be outrun than one could avoid death itself…he would face that which he'd feared head on…and if it led to his demise…he'd already settled in his heart and mind, and more importantly with God, that if it were to be as such, he would go with a clean conscience.

As he passed through the water, he remembered, with impressive clarity, the exact location of the lair, and the realization that the lever lay hidden in the murky waters to the left of the porticos. It was not long and Raoul heard as the gate began to rise, and the water moved aside allowing him access. It was with much needless trepidation that he finally found his way inside the cavernous grotto. It was decidedly warmer than the outer corridors, but that could have been attributed to any number of things.

As Raoul disembarked on the inner shore, he thought he was driving himself quite mad. The caverns had all been dark, and the walls as cold and clammy as any neglected surface exposed to moisture would be. Though if he did not know better, he'd have said that the aura of those that had been there, if any had been there, was merely hours old. He'd no real idea of how he would prove or disprove his theory, he knew only the feeling in his gut that had driven him out of his secure bed, out unescorted into the wilderness that separated his estate from Paris. It had been strong enough….real enough…that he could not deny it…whatever the cost.

Raoul shivered as much from fear and weariness as he did from the chill that cut through him to the bone. It was dark, and in that blackness, one's mind could conjure all manner of demon and beast laying in wait for the opportune time to pounce and subdue…devour. His eyes were as wide as a man driven wild in torture as he traveled slowly, at first at a crawl on his hands and knees as he waited for the pounding of his chest in his ears to abate.

If there had been an element of surprise, or entrapment, surely whatever he feared would vanquish him, would have done so once his foot was upon the soils. Feeling a bit more empowered by the verity he still had breath.

He rose, blinking hard in great effort to acclimate his eyes to the lack of light. Had there been anything, any glimmer or even a shaft of shadowy light, he'd have something to give him bearing, but there was not. He reached his hands out precariously in front of him as though he were a blind man, not knowing what he would do if he fell upon something that was living; he was hardly in a position to aim a weapon! What if in all of this toil he'd happen upon her, prisoner, and put an end to her himself in his fear? No, no, that careless he would not be.

He shuffled along as though an old blind beggar, scuffing along the streets in search of home or hand-out. His hand hit upon something and retracted instinctually…was that hot? Reticently he stretched out his hand once more, hitting upon a firm structure, and retracting once more, before going in for a third and more explorative touch. His hand came to rest on something, and yes…he gasped drawing in a lung full of the putrid air…it was hot. He reached out his other hand, quickly deducing it was an iron stove, one not unlike what was in the corner of the kitchen at DeChagny manor.

His eyes grew wide though they still had no vision, surely this was his senses conspiring against his mind…there was no other evidence that he was anything but completely alone. He knelt before the frame he was searching with his hands until he happened upon a handle. He inhaled, repositioning himself on his haunches, hand on the pistol in his belt. Slowly he opened the small door, and there the blackness was pierced, a small bed of fragmented embers glowed a hot orange, now having a fresh supply of air upon which to feed.

Raoul nearly toppled over…he had not been wrong…someone, nay something still dwelled here…he had not been wrong. And suddenly a terror seized at his heart….if he were back, and the stove still hot…where….where was he now? Raoul reeled back onto his knees, his head spinning as if he'd come off of some revolving Farris wheel at the world's fair. His head pounded as he could feel the blackness turning even blacker still…sliding now to his back, his limbs splayed in awkward positions hither and yonder. Though the sharp pains in his skull made his body protest, he could move no further until he'd found his bearings.

If he would be found there quiet devoid of life…he could not help himself. He lay quite literally whimpering for his life. In his estimation it had been a pathetic one. Full of all of the things fine young men did, men of particular breeding or position on the social order…all that mattered little now. He could feel that the bleeding had started once again, the warmth of the blood now running down his neck. He blinked heavily, he'd heard a sound, a strange sound coming from the water, a violent sloshing of current here and there. Though he feared, he could not move; nay he could do nothing but lay there…lay there and await his fate.

XXXX

The prop master trembled as he held his small torch above his head. He'd not traveled that far down before, but he'd gone on what he had overheard of the stories the men had told the night the Opera House burned nearly to the ground. As he moved through the waters he felt himself chilled through and through, and had half a mind to turn back, but he'd ventured this far, and he'd had it in him to lay to rest the very thoughts that tormented him, tugged at his very sanity.

It was neither fear nor mere inquisitiveness that brought him there that night, it was his selfish regard for his mind, for surely he thought himself to have taken leave of his senses. He could not rest since first he'd heard, felt the reverberating of the stone on his back…he simply had to know for his own good, and for the sake of the woman…had he heard it, had he heard the music? For if he had, then likely his eyes had not deceived him before, and perhaps he would once again be praying to stay in good favor with the one who would rein over the Opera House with an iron fist as he had before.

No light shown in the dark, save the light from the torch spitting and crackling at the end of the stick he held. It was with considerable struggle that he'd made his way through the various turns and twist, beholding gargoyle and cherub, lion, and hunter, and other things he could not give name to. Finally he came to a wide opening in the caverns. He thought he could hear something though he could not discern its identity. He drew closer and closer to the opening, as if drawn into the mouth of some sleeping monster only to be swallowed whole, but he did not hesitate, he had to know. He felt something patter across his head, holding his torch high, and leaning back he looked up to see a great iron gate, lifted into the recesses of the craggy rock, the tips of the bottom pointing down at him like great steely teeth poised to rip him flesh from bone.

Then it hit him, as the next drop fell to his flesh, if the gate was dripping water, it had not long been out of the lake itself! His heart began to pound, his eyes wide and wild as they had ever been. He heard it again; a low guttural sound, a groan, nearly a growl. He thought he would faint from the mere fright of it, turning about face rushing as fast as he could through the waters.

At one point his fear overtook him as the echo from his own movements sounded as if they were pursuing him. He let out a shrill cry that frightened him further still. In his rush, he tripped on something in the water, catching his feet it pulled him beneath the surface. He struggled, a rush of terror gripping at him further as he thrashed around in the waters trying to regain his footing to no avail. Whatever had caught him held him fast, there would be no escape from what was sure to come.

Slowly he began to relax. His struggling easing in acknowledgement of its futility. He would face it. Face what would now surely come. He closed his eyes, the last of the air pushing out of his lungs rising in a great gurgle to the surface of the water.

In his mind he could see it. The smiling face of the woman who'd come to dinner to find no one home. The fear of the woman who he'd escorted reluctantly to LeMortem Street…it was a sweet last thought he decided as his mind began to grow numb.

Then, through the stillness of what he was certain was his last fleeting thought came a great tug, a grasp by the front of his cloak, and a sharp pain about his ankle. Before he could tell what was happening he found himself leaned up against the cold hard stone. A great thrust against his back had dislodged the water from his lungs, and he was coughing. He opened his eyes searching wildly in the darkness for what had released him from his certain fate. He could see nothing; but he heard it, as he had so many times, the sharp executed flutter of a cloak drawn in haste, the snap of the corner of it as it broke through the air…and then there was silence. He sat gasping…he had been as good as dead….and now…more than ever…he was certain that the Phantom was back…..and he had been the beneficent of his favor.

XXXXX

Raoul now lay entirely awake, whimpering on the shores of the grotto. He could neither move nor respond to what he had heard, but of one thing he was most certain. If it had been he that had traveled into that very corridor but moments before, it would have been his shrill scream that would have been heard, and not that of some other poor man whose demise of which he was now certain. The strangulated sound that had traveled the caverns, he was certain was the man at the end of his life, for even now there was a sickening silence….it was nearly deafening.


	186. Too Close A Savior

Chapter 186 Too Close A Savior 

Christine was gasping when Erik returned to her side. She'd not been gripped by such fear in a very long while in his presence, but she had feared more whilst he'd been away from her. The shrill scream in the darkness had nearly sent her running into the depths of the caverns; had she not feared going lost, she'd have done it.

Erik uttered not a word as he took Christine into his arms soothing her with his hands, cooing reassurances in her ear. It had been too close, they'd nearly been caught, but by whom, he did not know. The frame of the man he'd pulled from the snare, was strange and unfamiliar to him. He lifted Christine into his arms, covering her protectively with his freshly donned cloak….Nadir's words ringing once more in his head,…"Erik, in saving a life, even one of your enemy, you are slowly paying penance for the lives that were lost in Persia."

He pressed his eyes closed moving silently through the back corridors. He'd not be able to take Christine out the way they had come. They'd go out the way they had on their wedding night. The travels would be longer, and far more complicated, that was assured, but they'd no choice now. His only relief was that they had not tarried there, even but a few moments more. It would have likely produced an end to the life that he had now even saved. What had caused the man to shriek in terror he knew not, for he'd seen nothing behind him whilst he waited for the man to cease in his struggles.

It was an odd thing really, watching calmly when another is believing to be breathing their last. Knowing that at any moment you can reach in and snatch them from death's door at the whim of your choosing. He'd learned, a great long while ago, to rescue one safely from the water, one needed to patiently wait until they struggled no more, or most certainly, in their desperate thrashings, they would drown you with them.

Christine was silent in his arms, feeling once more the maiden-bride she'd been just months before. She was certain they were out of danger now, Erik's pace was slow and steady. She'd not utter even one sound until he'd given permission to her…for she did not know what had happened in the blackness.

Erik's mind whirled. How had he been so careless? How had they dared so brazenly to tarry there? Though the mere thought of the memory remained sweet on his lips…and left him with want to return for those very moments alone. His keen edge was dulling, his sense of self preservation was left wanting now in the wake of utter distraction of the woman who consumed him body, mind, and soul. She was everything to him, and he believed in his heart now, he had grown to be as much to her.

As he carried her in his arms, he recalled Madame Giry's words, "when a woman starts to think of children, she is unconsciously relinquishing her future to her husband." How very undeserving, he felt of such love. He tried to focus on the task at hand. His only real want now was to carry her to safety, to coddle her in his love, to bring her relief from the strain of all that had transpired. The wear of it on her body and mind could come to no good for her if she'd not be properly rested.

It was a long while that they traveled before Erik put Christine to her feet, leaning his back against the wall, sliding down to take rest. He reached out for her hand, gently guiding her into his lap, kissing her temple. He whispered ever so slightly, "we are safe now my dear, but let us not throw caution to the wind. I shall answer for you any questions you like when we are back in the seamstress shop. For now, let us rest but a few moments, and then be off. We've need to return to her shop for the few hours until morning is in full bloom, and we'd need to do so before the friend of darkness departs making it impossible for you to hide your face." Erik sighed, leaning his head back against the wall, closing his eyes.

Christine felt a gasp rise within her… "my hooded cloak Erik…I left it there…I've no hood to conceal me!"

Erik's weary eyes open once more, blinked with heavy pondering. He shook his head. "We've no time to return for it, the cost is too great Christine, it shall be lost to you now. You've several more like it at the winter house, do not worry for it." Though he could scarcely believe he'd been that careless when they'd left. "There is nothing to do now. When we've come to the entrance, I shall give you my cloak. Wrap it around you, and you shall hunch as an old woman. If we are stopped, you shan't raise your head, not even slightly. You will be as an old woman hunched from the wasting disease of the spine, unable to right herself. Do you understand?"

Christine nodded, apologetically kissing Erik's neck. He neither returned her affections nor chastised her…he indeed must be more weary than she could imagine. It had been days now he'd gone with little more than a few minutes nap here and there, hardly anything to speak of. His temperament had held in check, and though she herself would have been anything but docile in that situation, she marveled at his calmness. He'd need a bit of rest now. She knew not the hour, but she knew it was very unlikely that he could carry on without some form of respite. 

As she nestled into his chest , she noticed that though he was damp, he did not shudder nor shiver. In fact his skin was warm, very warm to the touch. It made no sense given the chill in the air, and the cold waters he had just come from. She shook her head. It was likely nothing…nothing more than the stress and the strain of the past week come to pay its call upon him.

XXXXX

Meg was sound asleep on the divan in the center room of her mother's suite. The dishes from the evening meal still lay on the table where they'd shared joyously in the tomato augratin, the duck confit, and vegetables en croute. The decadent cocoa torte had been all but consumed late in the night, next to a fresh bit of coffee that had been delivered to them just before midnight.

Madame Giry and Nadir found themselves out on the veranda, bundled and huddled next to one another, not far from the open copper basin in which Nadir had kindled a small fire. They'd each a glass of red wine in hand, supping at it mindlessly as they watched the dark sky for the hints of morning that were certain to come. They'd each slept a few hours, though fitful, for they knew another, more difficult visit lay ahead, followed by what would likely be a long separation of the group.

"Antoinette, do you think Christine will carry her babes to the end…and when she reaches her time of confinement…will she…I know that her mother…" Nadir was simply mirroring Erik's own worries.

Madame Giry looked through rather bleary eyes at Nadir. "I do not know Nadir. Her mother was not as young as Christine, nor I dare say as healthy. But neither did she carry as many." Madame Giry sighed. "We must pray…pray that all will go well with her." Madame Giry squeezed Nadir's hand as she took another sip from her glass.

"I dare say that Erik would move to an irretrievable state should anything happen to that woman." Nadir said with certainty. "Who would ever have supposed that all one needed to subdue a monster was a lamb?" Nadir laughed quietly so as not to awaken Meg.

Madame Giry shot him an acerbic glance. "Monster? Is that what you'd thought of your friend?" She was aghast at the possibility.

Nadir shook his head, now looking out on the City of Paris, seemingly lost in reflection. "No dear lady…not I. For what I thought was of little consequence. Monster…it was what Erik believed himself to be. He was shunned by his own mother, beaten and paraded by the gypsies, then brought here where he grew with full knowledge he was feared and reviled. But even all of those things did not lead him to that opinion of himself. It was the years spent away from here…when you were gone…having married. The years spent in a distant land that made him feel a monster dear lady. Your little sprite made him feel alive again! Christine saved him from utter despair. Without that child to love, I dare say he would have withered and died by now."

Nadir was rubbing at his chin. He couldn't get the mental picture of that coffin out of his mind. He looked at Madame Giry, aware he was not betraying Erik, though he felt like he was. "Did you know…all those years he slept in an antique coffin?"

Madame Giry's eyes did not even flicker, though she looked down in sadness. "Yes, I knew. He'd had it delivered here some years ago. It was an awkward thing really…I shudder to recall it. It was quite a complicated ruse that we'd devised so none really knew the contents of the box when it arrived, and to whom it belonged. A large box of collectables had gone missing, as far as the Opera House staff were concerned, the very night it arrived."

Madame Giry glanced up at Nadir. "You would have most enjoyed watching as Erik and I lumbered with it down the stairs, and at the level that I always stopped, he'd brought something of a flat sled. From there he took it on alone to his…his…home." Madame Giry shuddered.

"Are you cold dear lady?" Nadir said reaching out to pull the blanket he'd wrapped about her shoulders a bit higher around her.

"No, not cold." She turned looking at him with a pained regard. "Nadir, do tell me, the time you spent with Erik, did he…has he always…" her voice died in her throat. How could she ask his dear friend such a thing? She simply shook her head looking out at the City. Her weariness had left her mind vulnerable to question.

Nadir sighed, a tremulous smile growing on his lips, then fading just as quickly, his eyes turning glassy. "Yes Antoinette, he was rather morbid, always talking of death and dying as if it were a welcome eventuality for him. He'd wanted to know, it seemed to me, that he'd not be left to rot in the street somewhere. He'd made reference to a special box he'd had, one that he wished to be buried in when that time came." Nadir chortled, "I'd told him there was no use in telling me of it, since I was a much older man, and more likely than not, to be food for worms far ahead of his time for need of such things." Nadir glanced at her. "I think in some strange way, he knew we might one day meet, you and I, and that I would convey his wishes to you."

Madame Giry smiled. "Perhaps." She looked down and then once more out at the skyline. "Do you know where it came from Nadir…the coffin?" She looked at Nadir, an almost sickened glower on her face. "He ordered it from Transylvania." She shuddered again. "Now, before you think me quite mad, believing in such things…I want it known soundly that I certainly do not. We must however, remember with whom we are dealing!"

Nadir nodded, Erik had always had a fascination with the rumor, nay myth that surrounded the shadows of those hills in that distant land. It's very prospect had disturbed him, though Nadir simply dismissed it from his mind whenever he'd thought of it…blood sucking monsters…it was something of dark folklore and no more.

Antoinette went on, "it had been emptied of its occupant in some great raid on a cave, and had sat there for a century it was said, everyone fearing to use it or dispose of it. Erik had read of it in some news or another, and decided he'd just the place for it." She shook her head. "It made no sense to me then, and makes little more to me now."

She rubbed her fingers under each eye, a tired stretch soon followed. She glanced at Nadir once more. "He'd said they'd passed through that land once, the gypsies, and he'd heard great tales told of monsters of the night who caused fear and terror in the hearts of men. Anyone or any living creature that went missing was said to have fallen prey."

She shook her head, she could scarcely believe she'd repeat such nonsense. "He decided to rid that land of the lore himself by bringing it here, as his final resting place when the time came. To him, then, it seemed fitting, for he too was a monster he'd said, and that was as close to a family relation as he would ever be…perhaps not of the same blood, but of kindred spirit. Those who walked the earth wishing to be dead."

Madame Giry shook her head. "During those years Nadir, I worried for Erik most. He so longed for a family that he'd taken the desperate measures in his mind to find something that he was like, some sense of sameness…" She looked out at the City. "Nothing ever soothed him truly. Though he did allow for visits beyond necessity, from time to time." She smiled faintly.

"Sunday afternoons, nearly every one whilst I lived here, we shared in a meal. I'd have a chorus girl look after Meg as she napped, and I'd come down to the level where we would meet, or sometimes he would venture up to my room…" she smiled just thinking of it. "There we would break bread together, and enjoy conversation of the most common variety. I would share of the news I had heard of the world, and he would give me reviews on the books he had read." Her gaze seemed to wander into oblivion as her voice trailed off. There was a long silence. "Thankfully, that is all in the past now."

"Nadir, I fear for what is to come now. We've all been through so very much together, we will never stop in our worries for one another." Her eyes cast down at the fire over her shoulder, then moving back to Nadir's face.

"Come Antoinette, let us go indoors. You are tired, and it is cold. We've several hours more before we shall meet them again, we should rest even if sleep eludes us." He took Madame Giry by the elbow, sliding his arm around her shoulder, leaning her head against his chest, he escorted her to the warmth of the inner chambers. They would wait now. And then…then they would go out to meet them.

XXXXX

Christine slowly relaxed her hand. She'd been running her fingers through Erik's hair as he'd drifted off to sleep. She'd allowed her mind to ramble here and there. As long as she focused, she knew she could not sleep. For she feared if she did allow her eyes to close, they'd sleep for a great while, missing everything that Erik had arranged so meticulously.

Erik's breathing was even and steady, the warmth of his breath on her skin as his head laid on her chest had given her every sensation imaginable. At first it was the warmth, and then it was the thought of love having her husband wrapped sleeping within her arms. And then it had at last turned to a tickling sensation as each hot breath wreathed around her neck.

She'd tried every distraction she could think of to keep her wits about her. First she'd thought about names for their children, and how Meg had inquired, Erik swooping in to answer the question. She'd thought about all she and Meg had discussed, hoping beyond hope that she'd not said anything too private. She thought about the conversation that they had all had about finding reasons for visits…..so much work it would be, so much work on all of their parts, to keep this friendship alive. It was worth each and every agony though, for love one another they did deeply.

Erik began to writhe around under her arms. His cheek had grown most decidedly warmer. When she put her palm to his forehead, it was smooth with sweat. Perhaps he was not feeling well just now. His body was likely reeling in all that he'd required of it, and little or no sleep did not assist in its recovery.

Christine looked down at his sleeping form, holding him ever closer. She listened as he began to mumble.

"The gun…he would kill him…." Christine realized that Erik was dreaming. At first a wide smile crossed her face as she listened to his ramblings trying to pick out parts she would use to tease him when he awoke, but as she listened the wonder and fear in her heart grew….what was he saying?

"The bullets….the boy was…." he moved himself in a near half-circle without ever leaving her arms. "It was not I….swear no one will know…he will never…..Raoul's gun…they must never know." The last of his ranting sent a shiver up her spine. What had he said? She held herself as still as she could, now fearing she would wake him. She waited patiently, but as the minutes grew, her hopes were nearly dashed. Just when she'd thought of waking him before she herself succumbed to a similar fate, he spoke again, this time his words were clear, shocking her to her very core.

"The boy would shoot him…he did not see him…why did I….he shan't ever know….it was for Meg." His voice wandered off. "No hero." The last of his thoughts dropping like iron drops on his forehead, he wincing in the very pain of them.

Christine sat in a stupor. Had he been the one? Had he shot Crawlings? If so, why the ruse, why then….and suddenly it hit her. If he had shot Crawlings thereby saving Raoul….the struggle within him would be excruciating. If it was indeed the truth of it, no matter how fear it raised in the rest of them, it was nothing of the suffering that the man trembling in her arms now felt.

Erik muttered and writhed once more, his face more than tinged with a sweaty sheen. "The books…I promised her."

Christine could take no more…no more mention of things she shan't know of, or perhaps even hope to understand. She felt as a thief stealing Erik's precious thoughts from him when he was at his most vulnerable. She gently chastised herself, for had she not resolved when last they were at the winter house to love him without question….to never wonder of the past he'd yet, if ever, to share with her? No, she'd intrude on his private thoughts no longer. A crimson blush of shame washed over her. She began gently shaking Erik's shoulders until he jerked awake, a fit of coughing taking over him.

Erik tried to stifle the cough, causing it to go deeper still until he could contain it no longer. There were several loud barks before he could clear his throat enough to swallow.

"Erik, are you well?" Christine inquired, gently running her hand along his back. It was not until he opened his mouth to speak that Christine grew concerned.

He swallowed, his throat having swollen like the engorged flesh of a great bleed, he felt fevered, and a general malaise had settled upon him. He knew himself to be wearied, but this…he did not fall ill! He tried to speak though his voice was scratchy and strained. "I am alright Christine."

She shook her head. "I have seen healthy, and that my dear husband you are not!" She felt a motherly tone rising in her. "We are to pay our proper respects today, and have the visit you wish to with the seamstress, then we are off to the winter house where you my dear, will rest until I say otherwise." She put up her finger, silencing Erik who was about to protest. "My dear, had I known you were ill…." She stopped short, for she not want to take back the hours they'd spent together there.

Erik smiled at her wearily. "You are right Christine we are off straight away to visit with the woman. Then on to the cemetery, and back to Courtland Manor."

Christine smiled, obviously he was more tired than even she had imagined. "Yes, a brief visit, and then off to the winter house." She restated without looking up, assured that her correction was right.

"No, to Courtland Manor." Erik said resolutely. "Courtland Manor is where we shall spend the coming months Christine…do not worry, I have thought about it thoroughly. It is only there that I can keep you truly safe. You've felt well until now, though I dare say when you are heavy with child, this amount of excitement will not set well with you. You are to rest my dear, wander a garden, sip tea by the waters as the sun rises and sets." Erik replied, rubbing at his eyes. They could tarry there no longer.

"My dear Christine, I promised I would answer all of the questions you could wish for once we were back at the woman's shop. For now, I need only for you to trust me, trust that I have our best interest in mind, though I can tell by your glare that you question it."

Christine's face was more filled with horror than it was question. Why had he not discussed this with her? When was he going to tell her? She did not know, though the tone of his voice said inexplicably, that there was no argument to be made that would convince him otherwise. "Erik, though I've no want to leave the winter house, now that we've settled, I will obey your wishes without question." She looked at him in seriousness. "Though my dear husband, when we are safe, I do expect for you to explain why we've had to go."

Erik looked at her, it was a fair bargain. If she'd not protest now, then she was more than deserving of knowing to what fate she'd committed herself. "Very well Christine." Erik rose, a flinch in his brow.

"Erik, you are not well." Christine said, genuine concern in her voice. "We must get you home, get you to some rest." Christine was readjusting Erik's cloak on his shoulders. "As your wife I am quite capable of seeing to the arrangements of moving the household. Do not worry my dear." She kissed his cheek, reaching up to place her cool palm on his forehead. She stretched placing another kiss on his cheek.

"Come, let us go from this place. By this time on the morrow, we shall even now be at home in our own bed warmed by the fire. I dare say these caverns are far too chilled for a woman with child to be traipsing about in!"

Christine nodded her head. The cavern where they were now was warmer than most. No doubt it was the fever that Erik surely had that caused him such a chill.

Erik took Christine's hand, resting it upon his forearm as he escorted her from the room.

Christine turned looking over her shoulder. "Erik was that…"

"Yes Christine, it was indeed the very place where we'd shared our first dance as husband and wife."

Christine smiled widely…she knew there had been something entirely comfortable there. Oh how she wanted to ask about the scream she had heard…but she would wait…she'd struck a bargain with him.


	187. Fresh Bleed

Chapter 187 Fresh Bleed 

She'd risen early, a good deal earlier than most days. Her household, save the lone maid that even now waited on her, still slumbered. She'd not eaten breakfast; a bit of coarsely ground coffee strained through steaming water with milk, and a smallish plate of ginger bread and sorghum had filled her in the wee hour.

Now she sat looking out the window at the City that slept under her watchful eye. What had driven the man and his wife out of Chauesser in such unfavorable weather? Whatever it was that had taken him from his house, it had likely been far more serious than his household even knew. Andre had spoken of a rather pleasant young woman from the man's household that he'd opportunity to converse with. He'd spared her much of the detail from the visit in favor of the brevity she so esteemed. They would be gone several days more, and then, surely she'd receive word from his household, perhaps an invitation would be sent her in earnest. Though she could not say just what it was, there was something of promise in the air, and that so seldom happened, especially these last days.

She sighed once more, looking at the eastern sky. There was yet to be a true hint of morning, but she did not worry. Time would produce what it would.

XXXX

The propsmaster sat gasping against the cold stone. He shivered so hard that he was certain that he could hear the rattling of his bones outside his own skin! He was chilled, that almost went without saying, though it was the fear that made him shiver. Was it…had his mind deceived him? He thought not.

His clothing was sodden, and his ankle donned a fresh bleed. Both were certain evidence that he had indeed been in the depths of the water that lay in the channel just a meter from him. Someone….something, had pulled him from the water. He had been released from the gripping jaw of an unknown trap submersed in the murky depths…it could have been no other. Even as he sat there he wondered, was the Phantom sitting in some obscure corner studying him as if he were a rat in a sewer? Surely he'd nothing to fear that his life would be ended for venturing there, for if that was the Phantom's intentions to put an end to him, he'd surely have left him to drown.

His eyes grew wide, as his mind retrieved itself from the numbing grasp of the cold…if it had been the Phantom…why…..why had he been spared? Stories abounded of the kiss of death one might be unfortunate enough to receive if they'd encountered him in unfavorable condition…there was simply no logic in it.

He began to rub his hands together rapidly, trying to warm them. If he were being studied…observed…perhaps it was best he not tarry should the onlooker change his mind, and he find himself, quite regrettably, at the end of a rope. He rose slowly, any thought of quick movement was a fleeting one, for he was stiff from the chill that gripped him and the fear that too sudden a movement could solicit a strike like that of a mighty cobra.

As he stood, he thought to have heard a sound, though however faint. His breath caught in his chest. His sense of hearing highly keened to listen…was that whimpering? He spun his head this way and that, looking desperately into the black void that encircled him. His only light now gone; the torch having gone to the depths with him. There was nothing but darkness to comfort him, his fear to guide him. Slowly he slid along the corridor, his back gliding along the wall. He really had no idea where the wall would end, or how wide was the path he now walked. Caution was his only hope. Though his heart and mind pounded, a great flee instinct urging him to go…he could not. He himself had been spared…how could he not reciprocate if it were needed? Should he not have want to do the same for another if it were required of him?

The further he moved along the wall he began to gather his bearings. He was moving back toward the great opening, and as he did, the sound became stronger. His breathing increased until it was nearly a gasp, full lungs of air rushed in and out until he felt quite light headed. He stopped. Calming himself, he listened as if a hunter in the wood. Yes, it was whimpering indeed. He had want to call out, but the very fear drawing the attention of whatever, whomever it might be, kept his tongue frozen in his mouth as a great river freezes in the dead of winter. Then the whimpering ceased.

"Who's there?" Raoul rolled around on the ground. He'd thought himself dead, save for the pain in the back of his head, he'd have believed it to be so. "Who's there!" He said in a nearly demanding tone. If it was the beast come to claim him, he'd give him no satisfaction in his weakness.

The propsmaster was both confused and relieved. The voice sounded human. "Dear sir, I mean you no harm," he called out wearily, "I heard but a noise, and I confess…thank you sir, for sparing my life…" The propsmaster castigated himself for not having thanked his savior first, and then begun with his explanation.

"What is this you speak of?" Raoul now sitting though his head throbbed in protest. It was a man's voice, one he did not recall ever hearing.

"Sir, thank you for sparing my life, though feeble and feckless it may be, I will speak of this to no one, I'll not betray you." There was silence. "Was it you sir, you that I saw in the inner courtyard the night before last?" As soon as the question had left him, he feared for the answer. What if now he had angered him? Why had he not been grateful enough to thank him and flee for his life?

"I do not know of what you speak man, who is it that I address without knowledge?" Raoul was a bit irritated, this surely was not who he had feared.

"Sir? You've known me a great long while, though I've never met you properly." The man was beginning to wonder, this did not sound like a Phantom, it sounded rather like someone else whose voice he'd heard.

"I demand it now, to whom do I speak?" Raoul had taken his shirt into his hand, ripping off one sleeve, making a swath of cloth to tie tightly round his head.

"It is I sir, Claude LeJure, the propsmaster, as you will. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He said, a strange look of wonder crossing his face.

"Well then Claude, the pleasure and relief is mine." Raoul said, slowly pulling himself to an erect position.

The man flinched. "Vicomte…Vicomte DeChagny?" He thought he'd recognized the voice…but how?

"Yes, Claude, and just how is it that you found yourself here? Is anyone with you?" Raoul suddenly wondering if this man was but a pawn, or worse yet bait to distract him.

He batted his eyes, his mind racing madly. He'd not want to say, but he too wondered what would have drawn the Vicomte to that very place. He could fashion no untruth that was plausible….perhaps the Vicomte had right to know, he was after all, the patron's son.

"Vicomte…you shall surely think me quite mad, and I assure you, the same doubts of my mental acuity have coursed through me since I came to these levels." He paused, perhaps if he knew that the Vicomte had been the one to rescue him… "Vicomte, I must thank you for retrieving me from the waters, surely I'd thought myself drowned and lost forevermore."

Raoul turned his head though he could not see. "That is thrice now you've thanked me for that which I know nothing of, rescued you from what…from where? I myself have been laying on this cold stone for some time now, not having moved until just when you came in."

The propsmaster flinched, then he had not imagined it. "Did you see him…is that what brought you here Vicomte?"

Raoul's eyes grew wide, "to whom do you refer?" Raoul wanted only to know what or whom the man sought before he'd answer.

"The Phantom Vicomte…if it were not you…then it was he that plucked me from certain death in the causeway just outside." Suddenly, against his good thought, he began. "You see Sir, I'd felt vibrations….vibrations on the wall in my room. Whilst I thought myself to be quite mad, my memory tugged at me, for the only other times I'd felt it before was when the Phantom was about to appear, or when his presence was to be made known in some way. It oft seemed that it was most frequent when we were working on some production or another, and most often in the wee hours of the morning. Though I feared it, I came to expect it as surely as the rising of the sun. Tonight, as I reclined to read before retiring, I felt it….the vibration. Surely I knew the Phantom had left that many months ago, and I'd not felt it since the night he departed…" his voice suddenly quieting. He remembered with great sadness that the Phantom had taken the Vicomte's betrothed.

Raoul's eyes were filled with a mixture of tears of pain, and those of rage…oh how few were the degrees that separated those two emotions. "Go on man," he said in a controlled and steady-sure voice.

"I am sorry Vicomte, sorry for what has happened to you, I can imagine only how you've suffered since.."

"Silence!" Raoul's rage began to overflow causing the gash at the back of his head to throb as he bellowed.

Claude recoiled in fear, he'd never know of the Vicomte to be anything but cordial and proper…but then these were not the most usual of circumstances.

"Go on," Raoul said in a more suitable tone. He wanted to know.

"I wanted only to know if it were true, if this place existed as rumor had been told of its whereabouts. And now, if the Phantom returned once more to the Opera Populaire, just as it was about to reopen its' doors…I shuddered to think of it." Claude quieted, he'd answered the question.

"I see." Raoul said, now gathering his wits. "And what was that you spoke of, the other night in the courtyard…what had you seen?" Raoul was intent on finding out what the man had seen, and what night it had been, for surely, his own fears would be founded if the man had also seen that which they'd both believed, to be dead.

"Vicomte, was it you that I heard…are you injured?" The propsmaster feeling himself a bit weary, but he worried for the Vicomte. His mind whirling in wonder if he'd accidentally happened upon a near murder scene, only to nearly fall prey himself, his mind still wondering at his own rescue.

"Yes, quite injured I'm afraid," Raoul replied reaching his hand to the back of his head. "Come, let us sit. Where is it that you find yourself?" Raoul was certain the man was several dozen meters from him.

The propsmaster could not say precisely where he was, for he knew only what lay behind him, not before him.

Raoul, feeling a bit impatient said it again, "where is that you find yourself…have you crossed into the lagoon, or are you yet outside of the cave?" He'd no idea if he could push himself on the make-shift raft to the outer waters.

Claude surmised he was at the entrance for the echo of the Vicomte's voice was distant. "Yes, though I've not traveled here before, I believe that I am just outside of the cave of which you speak. I do not know if I dare venture further, having found myself just moments ago in a snare."

Raoul flinched, he'd been in the waters of that lagoon, nearly every inch of it during the intense moments of a confrontation long passed now, he knew there to be no impediments there, save his own fears of course. "You sir, if you are able, make your way into the waters. Though they be frigid, they should contain for you no other traps." Raoul knew he himself could not go back into the waters, he was feeling all but nearly unconscious once more. Perhaps the blackness had altered his perception of what conscious was to be.

Claude hesitated, "Vicomte, I shall try," he said with distinct trepidation in his voice, "but are you well enough to pluck me once more from the waters should I find another snare?" His words escaping him as he lowered his body into the cold water once more, sending an immediate shiver up his spine.

Raoul became agitated. "I did not pluck you from the waters, why must you persist in that thought. I've done nothing of the sort!"

The man was wearily making his way, slow step by slow step through the opening to the cave. Once inside he could hear the echo from the water that sloshed about him. "Vicomte, you and I are the only two here…but moments before I found myself quite ensnared, thinking myself to be dead, and you…you had to have plucked me from the waters, for I felt the grip of your hands at my cloak, the sudden rush of the release of the jaw that held me fast at the ankle, and then you deposited me on the shore, a thrust against my back to dislodge the water….do you not remember it sir?" The man was slowly making his way into water that was deep as his chest.

"I can assure you sir, that it was not I, but perhaps it was your imagination." Raoul said tenderly rubbing at his head. He'd want to ask the man why he'd built a fire in the stove if he'd only come down to check.

"Vicomte, I swear on my life that I'd been plucked from the waters and the sure grip of death, for I could not have been my own savior!"

Raoul's blood ran cold, a shivery draft wafted into the cavern. "It was not me!" He said emphatically, then his voice fell to the ground. If it had not been him, and the man was not imagining it…could it have been? He shivered, perhaps they were not as alone as he'd thought. "Move quickly to the shore man! I've reason to believe we are not alone!"

The propsmaster not at all certain how he'd kept from screaming given Raoul's revelations, made his way swiftly to the shore next to Raoul. "Vicomte?"

Raoul had seldom trusted anyone, especially not a man with whom he'd just made an acquaintance, but the situation necessitated it. "Come hither, toward my voice." Raoul called out to him, now more in a forced whisper.

Claude moved closer and closer to where he could hear the heavy breathing. "Have you no light sir?" He said, feeling out in front of him to find something to lay his hands upon.

"No light, but I've something to show you." Raoul's hand was once more on the small cast-iron door of the Franklin Stove…it was still more than warm to the touch. "Here, give me your hand." He nearly commanded as the man got close enough that Raoul could smell the onion on his breath, surely the remnants of what the man had for supper, and it nearly repulsed him. His stomach quivering, he said no more as he grasped the man's hand shoving it on the side of the warm iron. "Tell me you built this on your visit good man." Raoul was nearly imploring the man to speak that it was so, though his doubts about the veracity of the Phantom's reappearance were rapidly disappearing.

Claude's eyes were wide with terror. "I'd not built it sir, though it is now just hours old!" The man reached inside his pocket, and though it was entirely sodden, the handkerchief made a sure guard against the piping hot handle of the stove. He pulled the door open, the orange embers that had been covered by ash swirled around inside the stove, casting a temporary eerie glow over both of them. "Have you a torch Vicomte, a candle, anything?"

Raoul dejectedly said "no." His mind quickly wandering to where he'd seen candles and a box of tinder when last he was here. He tried to focus, but his mind was simply too fogged from the pain, and now no doubt, loss of blood. The doctor had tried to warn him not to move, that the stitches were vulnerable to tearing and stretching what precious hold they had on his skin. He flinched…he had to think before he gave in to the fatigue that threatened to claim him.

"There's a box….a tall box behind the stove, you should find something of use there." Raoul said, now reclining once more as he felt his head start to swim. He closed his eyes, listening as Claude scuffled around the stove, reaching in and out of the container he'd found several times before he was once more in front of the stove, using the hand wrapped in the damp cloth to open the door. It took several minutes of coaxing, but soon the fire grew large enough to cast shadows.

Raoul's mind began to wander as he listened to Claude tend the small fire within the stove. Soon the room would warm, and they'd have a proper introduction. Raoul had resigned himself to the fact that if the Phantom indeed did tarry there, they'd no hope of escaping unscathed. As long as there was peace, he would seize the opportunity to rest.

His mind took flight back to DeChagny Manor. The doctor no doubt would be waking soon. He felt rather guilty, having put the drugs he'd been instructed to take in the doctor's tea when he'd gone to retrieve the cream, but Raoul had simply had enough of the friendly banter when he'd risen some hours before. He'd somehow wheedled a confession out of the doctor Meg had gone with Nadir and Madame Giry into Paris to the Opera Populaire whilst he slept. Raoul had been infuriated that the doctor had insisted Meg go when she had all but begged to stay at his side. Not that he'd wanted nor needed the attention, but Raoul would have been grateful to have woken to her smiling presence than to know that she was out there…had been out there on the road between the City where she would have been easily fallen upon and none would have been the wiser! Though Raoul knew that Nadir would have fought to the death for either of the women.

He sighed heavily, a resigned relaxed state. Now he'd committed an egregious crime against the doctor whom he trusted and was trusted by implicitly. Had the circumstances been any different, he'd have thought nothing of staying in bed the several more days that the doctor had suggested…but in good conscience, he could not wait, nor tell what he had seen, for none would have believed him…he scarcely believed himself! To the good doctor he'd owe an apology when they returned.

Raoul opened his eyes to see Claude, arms clasped tightly around his knees, seated on the floor, rocking back and forth as if a babe crying for its mother. Raoul simply watched, surely the man had mistakenly thought him to be sleeping. He looked at him with such wonder. What was it that caused him to behave so? He watched as Claude's eyes glanced several times more at the stone surface that formed a roof at the top of the room they were in. Something about that frightened him. Raoul rolled his head slightly, hoping to glimpse it, whatever it was. His eyes were bleary, and he strained to focus, and then he saw it. Words scrawled starkly on the surface in an ink as black as midnight.

"Fear Yea All Who Pass Here Unescorted, For No Man Knows The Day Or The Hour Of His Death, Fear Is One's Mind Embracing The Horrors Of The Unknown, And The Eventualities That Are Due Him."

Raoul shuddered. It was a warning, and both he and the man now rocking as a babe were transgressors…and trespassers.

XXXXXXX

The doctor woke with a jerk, the saucer still gripped in his hand, the teacup lay broken in two on the floor. He sat up, stiff and tense as he glanced over at the bed. It was empty! His heart began to pound as his eyes searched the room. The door to the water closet was open, the seat by the window was unoccupied, the doors to the closet closed tightly. He sighed, perhaps Raoul had felt well enough to go down to retrieve a fresh pot of tea. He'd have to remember to scold Raoul for his disobedience. The stitches were as straight and true as he could make them, but it was so very necessary for Raoul to be as still as possible for the next few days, letting his body heal and recover. Blows to one's head were never good.

The doctor, still in his garb from the day before, rubbed at his eyes. Oh how good a hot bath and a good meal would be for him. Perhaps he could have Raoul's father sit with Raoul while he tended to a few things, and most decidedly a hot bath was in order!

He flinched heavily when the door to the outer hallway flew open with a sudden jerk. In came Madeline, bleary-eyed and half frightened, a small boy in her hand, grasped by his shirt collar. "Tell doctor…tell him!" She demanded The small boy trembled. "TELL HIM!"

The doctor's eyes were wide as the saucer in his hand. He'd never heard Madeline take that tone with anyone.

The small boy began to whimper, but realizing he'd no way out, he spoke faintly, "I'd saddled his horse, he'd instructed me not to report his leaving, I do not know where he is going, but he took no rations for he or his horse." The boy's head hung as if he was certain he was destined to be whipped to within an inch of his life.

"Whose gone Madeline?" The doctor said, and as soon as his words left him, he knew the answer. "No! Do not tell me…when?" He stood, his heart pounding, he was already readjusting his clothing in preparation of donning his cloak.

"Before sunrise sir, I would say nearly four o'clock sir." The boy glanced back and forth between the look of disbelief that played across the doctor's face, and the stern glare that Madeline was giving him.

Madeline was panting now looking at the doctor, knowing just what he needed. She turned back to the boy, finally releasing his lapel. "You go, have horse ready, doctor go now."

The boy scampered away to do as instructed, exceedingly thankful that this was all he'd been subjected to, for he had feared far worse.

Madeline stood looking at the doctor. "Vicomte not well, bed should stay."

The doctor nodded to her. "Indeed Madeline, indeed." He reached out grasping her shoulder firmly as he walked passed her and out the door.


	188. Scent

**Chapter 188 Scent**

Dear Faithfuls: Just a note that there will once again be no update until Tuesday, January 17th. Thank you for your patience, with my demanding schedule! Have a great weekend.

Erik closed the door behind them. Christine stood, stretching trying to straighten her back, having walked a great distance through the City of Paris, hunched as an old woman whose back was bent with age. Erik leaned against the wood of the door, a great cough rising out of his chest.

Christine temporarily forgetting her own pain, went to Erik, reaching up undoing his cloak, removing it from his shoulders. He'd opened his mouth as if to speak, but Christine brushed across his lips with her index finger to quiet him. "It's off to bed with you my love. I shan't be taking no for an answer so no argument need be made. You've a terrible cold settling in your chest dear husband, and I would be remiss as your wife if I'd not see to nursing you." She turned to hang his cloak on the hook inside the service entrance.

Erik felt warm, oh so terribly warm. Perhaps a few hours rest would do him good. How could one argue with the imploring of an angel? He stood, back leaned against the door, just watching her. Each graceful movement as mundane as hanging a cloak, but as enamoring as anything one could possibly do, as it was an act of love.

Christine turned, smiling warmly, realizing with great compassion that his eyes had never left her. She returned to his side, wrapping her arms about his waist, nestling her head into his chest…his arms instinctively coming to rest on her back. He leaned over to kiss the crown of her head.

"Do you think Erik, that there will ever be a time that I shall look upon you that I do not want for your flesh?" She blushed, though she did not look away. "Even now," she reached out dabbing at the sweat on his brow, "as tired and ill as you are, you remain the most handsome man I have ever known." She smiled at him sincerely, in her heart knowing she meant every word.

Erik's forehead had begun to burn. Though he did not feel well enough to respond to her obvious advances properly, his heart swelled at the mere thought of her wanting him. "Christine, oh my dear sweet Christine…" his hands moved up her back until they came to rest on either side of her face. He leaned down kissing her tenderly.

Christine returned his affections, then slowly, tenderly, she pulled away, slipping her hand into his. "My dearest Erik, you shall rest now. When you are feeling well again, and we at last find ourselves once more in our own home," she looked up into his eyes, telling him without words that she was not rejecting his advances, merely delaying them, "we shall see to that glimmer in your eye." She stretched, kissing him affectionately on his jaw. She took his hand, turning to lead him back to the dressing room-turned bedroom, they'd shared just hours before. She'd taken no more than three or four steps when Erik spun her around on her heels, taking her up fully into his arms, running his arms behind her back, nestling his face into the small of her neck, placing tender kisses up slowly along her neck, rounding her jaw until his lips took hers fully into his. They stood there, Christine nearly breathless with desire under the intent spell of the man she loved.

Erik slowly released his kiss, tenderly leaning in for several more before he swallowed her into the depth of his chest, wrapping his arms firmly around her. "I shall wait…if you shall promise…" he said in a teasing manner, taking her chin into one of his hands.

Christine shuddered, oh how she could think of nothing else but the touch of his hands on her flesh. She looked up at him with serious eyes, "I promised you the night you took me as your wife Erik, I am yours and yours forever, I no longer have right," she stretched up once more placing a dewy kiss on his lips, "nor want to ever refuse you." She took his face into her hands. "That does not mean that I do not want for you to be rested and well first!" She rubbed her hand across his chest. "You've a cold returning with a vengeance my dear, and I shall not be one to further strain a body so in need of rest." She reached her hand up, wiping the sweat that was beading on his forehead. "Now, off to bed with you my dear, a few hours rest, a proper lunch, and we shall pay our respects." She took Erik's hand; this time she did not look back when he hesitated, she simply pulled him along.

Erik's attentions were certainly elsewhere when he was led as a child off to bed for a nap. Though he had to admit, the act of being cared for and loved was not all that unpleasant! In truth he knew that he needed the rest if he were to have the energy for the return to the winter house. Oh how he longed for the quiet, settled, comfort of his home. Yes, they'd be heading to Courtland Manor, but a few days rest at the winter house would do him good. Tarrying in bed with Christine at his side should be all the medicine he would need.

Christine led him off to the room, smiling as she entered. Someone had no doubt anticipated their arrival, a warm fire was already starting to glow in the hearth. She slowly, tenderly removed Erik's garments, taking particular note that his shirt was nearly soaked in sweat. Erik shuddered when the cool air hit his skin. He started to cough, a deep throaty cough. She slid a nightshirt over his shoulders as he sat on the divan. Christine placed a tender kiss on his forehead, leaning down to lift his legs onto the length of the cushion. Erik reclined without protest. Christine smiled as she brought the covers up under his chin, pushing the hair from his brow, placing another kiss on his cheek. "Rest now my love. I'll bring you some tea."

Erik looked up, moving his lips as if to form a word. Christine leaned down touching her finger lightly to them. "Shhhh now, you must rest….shhhh." She slid her hand over each eye, pulling its lid to cover the beautiful deep irises, sealing each one with a gentle flutter from her lips. "Sleep my love," she whispered in his ear, placing one last kiss behind his ear just along the corner of his jaw.

Erik smiled, her love for him was still truly a wonder. He lifted the lapel of the nightshirt Christine had slipped on him. He inhaled deeply and smiled. It had likely been the very one that she had worn the nights ago when he was away, and yet it still contained her scent. He smiled again as he felt the tugging of sleep calling him…there was nothing like the scent of the woman you love.

Christine sat in the chair in the corner of the room for a few minutes, watching as the fire began to grow bit by bit. She'd hung Erik's shirt by the hearth, and his cloak she'd spread out in front for it to dry. Glancing over at Erik she marveled at the sheer handsomeness of his sleeping form. If she squinted her eyes, she could see Erik as a much older man, and it warmed her heart thinking of spending an entire lifetime loving him. She leaned her head back closing her eyes, a pleasant smile crossing her face. Yes, there was much to do, and yes there was so very much to think about, but if one spent their entire life wrapped up in worrying, they could never embrace the simple pleasures of the moment. There had been a great many happy things. She ran her hand across her stomach, and just for now…she would relish those.

XXXX

The woman was sound asleep. Her back leaned nearly straight as a stiff branch snapped clean from a tree. Erphan smiled as he crossed the room, looking at all the neatly wrapped bundles tied in soft white cloth with thick black ribbons. The woman had been up until all hours putting the finishing touches on several of the garments that Erik had requested of her. True, they had been rather simple, affixed with ready-made lace pieces she'd picked up that afternoon at his behest. There was hardly time for her to have made the garments themselves without the additional work of the lace. Erik knew well that the woman prided herself in the beautiful decorative work that so many of her clientele demanded. For these house garments, he'd was not interested, nor would Christine be in having something so elegant that it couldn't be worn every day. Erphan looked down, as he passed the last one. That one was different than the rest. It was considerably smaller than the others, and it was wrapped in yellow silk, and tied with ribbons of pink and blue. He wondered at it. Perhaps it was for someone else.

Once reaching the woman's side, he gently shook her shoulder. "Dear lady…dear lady," he was trying to be gentle, knowing how little he himself appreciated being woken from a sound slumber, though he was entirely certain she'd not be as cantankerous as he. "Dear lady," he shook her shoulder once more before she'd opened her eyes. He thought to himself in that moment how very odd it was…though her eyes had no sight, they still had want to open when she was awake…perhaps it was an involuntary reflex, much like breathing.

She sat up straight, realizing herself to have fallen asleep. "Have they returned then?" She was smacking her lips, sorely in need of a good cup of tea.

Erphan lifted her hand, putting a glass in it. She smiled, it was warm and it was distinctly fragranced with cinnamon. "I see you've found the cider young master!" She chuckled a bit, taking in a long sip.

Erphan was speaking softly as he replied. "Yes, I'd been watching, and I'd seen them from a distance," he smiled at the woman as she paused in her drinking as if to remind him. "Yes," he said reassuring her, "I'd seen to the fire as you'd instructed, giving it the final tinder before they arrived."

"Very well young man, very well done indeed." She extended the glass of cider to him, motioning for him to find a place to sit it. "I'd very much then, like a chance to give them these." She was walking toward the ribbon-adorned bundles.

Erphan reached out his hand placing it on her shoulder. "Madame, the man and his wife have taken to bed. It seems he's a bit of a cold brewing, his wife was rather adamant about seeing him off to rest. She herself did not appear well, she hunched as if her back pained her somehow. When I peeked into the room, planning to offer more wood for the fire, I found both sound asleep, he on the divan, she in the chair. I'm sure they've but need for a few hours before you enjoy a visit." He paused, never having been so bold with someone who was his elder. "Perhaps you could benefit from a few hours rest yourself. You've been up toiling all night over these garments."

He looked down and though the woman's hands were calloused, he could see that they were red and swollen, and he had pity on her. His mind wandering to the small bottle of scotch he'd tucked in the basket. "Perhaps a nip would do you well to relax.'

The woman's eyes lit up, it had been a long while since a drink had been offered her. She smacked her lips, "perhaps a wee one."

She listened as Erphan walked over to the door and went out. She rose, running her hand over each bundle. "Lavender to match her personality, daffodil to match the light in her smile, amber to match the glow of her eyes, and blue…a lovely morning lark blue…just because." She mumbled to herself. They were simple dresses really, allowing for comfort and an expanding middle when it was needed. She'd affixed lovely ribbons that could be let out on the sides.

The last bundle, the one with double ribbons….that he had not asked for. This was her gift to the couple, a congratulations if you will, for the joy that would soon grace them. They were small nightgowns of the palest yellow. A trio of them for the blessing that she prayed that the children would be to the young family. She smiled wearily, she'd have been to bed an hour ago if she'd not determined herself to finish them. Something in her heart told her that she shan't be seeing them until the babes were in arms.

Her head turned as she heard Erphan come back into the room, the clinking of the glasses told her he'd brought two…he'd intended to join her. She smiled, reaching out her hand after she'd heard him pour them.

"To good health," Erphan said raising the glasses, putting one in her hand, clinking the side of his against hers.

"Indeed young master, indeed." She said smiling then wincing as she took her first sip. It made her shudder…the burn coursing through her…in a good way.

XXXXX

Raoul twitched awake with a startle. His head pounded ferociously. He put his hand up to the back of it, touching it and pulling it away to look at his fingers. The bleeding had ceased for his fingers were clean. The pressure from the tightly wrapped make-shift bandage had sufficed in the absence of medical attention. He rubbed his hand over his face, yawning. He was tired, but he'd not even need to open his eyes before he remembered where he was.

The air around him was warm, and it took no time to realize that someone, no doubt Claude, had covered him with something to keep him warm. Slowly, painfully, he opened his eyes, blinking heavily. Though he'd had no drug in recent hours, the groggy affects had yet to leave him, he felt like a man deprived of a hundred days' rest! Looking across the room he saw Claude had found himself a spot directly in front of the fire. His sodden clothes no doubt had given him additional chill, and he'd had to do something to keep himself warm.

Raoul leaned his head back against the surface his back had rested upon. He glanced once more at the words on the uneven surface above him. They were meant to be warning to any who ventured there…but he no longer feared that the Phantom still lurked. If he had, he'd no doubt he'd have made his presence known by now. Looking up once again, he studied the words with his eyes. They were meant as a warning, but to whom, for what good purpose? How many men would have lived to tell of ever having seen it? It made one take pause he thought, how many people had ever been there, would even know that it was here? He did not fear it now, though he'd had to admit it had made him ill-at-ease at first.

His mind drifted back to the night in the yard when he was certain he'd seen that cloak, that form. What would have drawn the beast to his house? Had he been frightened away by the boy or the ensuing commotion? Raoul shook his head. Why would he have dared travel there with great peril to himself should he be found. Raoul closed his eyes. No, he did not trust that beast, not for one sliver of moment, but something had drawn him there…to Raoul's.

He sighed heavily. All manner of outlandish thought had traveled his brain as to the origins of the killing strike on Crawlings. He knew, with near absolute certainty, that he'd not fired a shot…how could one forget such a thing? He knew he'd made a decision to avoid the encounter, flinging himself carelessly to the ground causing the gash that now caused him such pain. What other thought could be plausible? It was quite clear in his recollection…he'd fired no shot. The mystery remained…there was no others in the yard, no others, save he, the boy, and the beast.

Raoul lifted his head from the surface. Whilst it no longer bled, it hurt all the more, even with light touch against it. Perhaps the next days he'd be relegated to keeping his head hunched forward like an old men bent at the neck. His thoughts returned….he, the boy, and the beast….shots rung out…the cape fluttered. He, the boy, and the beast. Raoul was making mental inventory of all that he saw, panning in his mind what the landscape had held, rather emblazoned on his mind…no…there had been no other, of that he was sure. He rested his head in his hands. Why had the beast come there…to finish him? Likely not for he'd have had ample opportunity these last hours if that were his intent. He, the boy, and the beast….the courtyard, the shots. He went over and over it again in his mind, watching with scrutiny, eyeing every detail.

He, the boy, and the…..Raoul's eyes flashed open…and the beast! He was nearly faint from the thought that now gripped him…. "no…" he gasped, "it could not have been so…" Raoul closed his eyes once more, replaying the last fractions of a second, seeing as if through present eyes the movements in the dark, the cape fluttering, and the hand coming from beneath it…he had not grasped the corner of his cape to leave….he had pulled something from beneath it…it had been….a gun!"

Raoul's eyes opened, a flash of horror glossing over him… "surely not!" Raoul found himself on his feet, and though his head and body protested he paced heavily. It simply could not have been, his mind must deceive him still! It was the drugs, the pain, something had obscured the truth of it all. His head was thumping so loud he could barely hear himself think. "Surely not…" he muttered, sitting himself down on an overturned crate. The beast…the gun…the shot… He could think of it no more for surely the beast would have finished him…as he would have finished the beast had he had opportunity!

His gaze began to wander the cavern. Why had all of this been left behind, and not discarded or destroyed? Were they truly too afraid of this Phantom to do what duty should have called them to do? Perhaps they'd taken heed to the writing scribed on the ceiling above. He shook his head. He was coming to learn that fear was a useless emotion, only keeping people from doing that which they ought do without pause.

He gritted his jaw with a bit of determination in his eye. When he and the man…Claude…found their way to the surface, he'd see to sending someone down to rid the Opera House once and for all of these remnants. He'd not permit the beast a space beneath his roof to wage his terrors on a whole new group of unknowing! In an instant he was torn…what if the beast had indeed rescued the propsmaster…what if the beast had indeed intervened with Crawlings….what was it that he wanted of Raoul…what was it that he needed that would change him from slaughterer to savior? He knew not. He knew only that he had tarried there long enough, that if the beast had want to find him, he would have done so by now. They must leave, he must go to Meg's side, reassure her he was alright. By now the doctor would have risen, and no doubt found him to be quite absent. He'd taken no time in deducing what had happened or where Raoul might have gone. No, they could tarry there no longer, for he was driving himself quite mad with the workings of his own mind. The lack of light, the tainted air, the injury…it all played against his ability to think clear thoughts.

Raoul sighed. Now he'd have to find a way to the upper floors. It had been hours that he'd been down in the bowels and his lungs and bones ached for the warm air of the budding spring that was certain to abound far above where he now rested. He knew well that he'd no choice but to rely on the mercies of this new friend, in order that he might return to the surface, for surely he could do no such thing under his own power.

"Claude?" Raoul called out in a voice quite normal in tone and strength.

The man stirred quite easily much to Raoul's relief. "What is it Vicomte?"

"Claude, we should go from this place. I've need to return home, for it is certain that they should have sent out a party in search for me by now." He paused, thinking for a moment. "Do you know where the new dormitories were built for the chorus girls?" He was trusting that the doctor's words had been true and that Meg would even now be resting in the quarters that had been built for her mother.

Claude sat up, removing the sole blanket that he had found. He was quite warm now. "Yes Vicomte, in truth I've inspected it several times whilst it was being finished. I must say it is most functional. It will do well for the young women to have their privacy, under the watchful eye of the ballet mistress."

Raoul wished he could smile at the response, but at the moment all good humor had left him. "Very well sir, we will see to returning to the surface, and then, you'll see me to such quarters?"

Claude inhaled. "Vicomte, if that is what you wish for, I shall do as you've bid me." He nodded, raising himself to a long stretch. He turned to look at Raoul. "Vicomte, are you well enough to travel this distance unaided, or aided by me alone?" He looked a bit concerned knowing he could neither carry nor leave the Vicomte there. He wanted to believe, though he was not entirely certain, that the Phantom had gone.

Raoul could nearly hear the man's concerns in his hesitant reply. "I shall do my best good sir, though I dare say I may not move at more than the speed of a lumbering bear!" Raoul stood, shaking out the article that had covered him. He extended his hand with the garment to Claude.

Claude shook his head, "Vicomte, all that I had when I came in was soaked through and through when I fell into the water. That is something that I'd found here, just over there." He pointed in the general direction of the room that he'd once seen Christine peering out of. He shuddered. His eyes looked down at what he held in his hand. Quickly he grasped the thick black item with both hands, holding it out in front of him. It was a cloak, nay, a hooded cloak! His eyes filled with the seething rage he felt rising within him. "That monster, it's the cloak of that monster!" Raoul said, wanting to tear it shred for shred with his bear hands.

"Vicomte, that his not a man's cloak, look at it carefully, it is rather dainty to be that of a man's would you not say?"

Raoul flinched, looking down more closely, and then nearly instinctively, he lifted it to his nose, running the inner collar of the cloak along his cheek. He closed his eyes as he inhaled. Of all the senses, scent had the ability to take you back at frightening speeds to a place in your past. His chest tightened, only one word ever making it to the surface of his pursed lips….. "Christine…." And then he began to sob.


	189. Unexpected

Chapter 189 Unexpected 

**Dear Faithfuls:** On this happy occasion, we should each have a birthday cake, or cupcake, or something to honor dear Benjamin Franklin…he would have been 300 today! There are so very many things to be thankful to him for, but today, as I sit in my heated room, lights overhead, typing on a computer, and listening to music, I am thinking most specifically of the discovery of electricity! So, if you can, take a moment to think of our dear Ben…he did so many, many, things for us!

XXXXX

Meg felt unsettled as she tossed and turned on the divan. She'd been in a deep dreamless sleep, but it was not restful. There were dark overtones surrounding her every time she thought to be pulling herself through to consciousness, and she could see nothing but a great void…no sound, no sight, nothing. She'd reeled around in this half-sleep state several dozen times before she finally gave up any hope of true rest.

Meg blinked unhurriedly several times before her eyes would allow her full sight as she exposed then to the budding light. She stared up at the chandelier on the ceiling that lay far above her. It was beautiful and detailed, glittering ever so slightly at the top. It was not flame, but reflection of the first strained shafts of morning sun peering in the crescent shaped window above the French-doors that lay between she and the veranda just outside. The light was so orange, and so brilliant, one could hardly not smile at the promise of a new day.

Stretching her hands far above her head, she wriggled this way and that under the blanket. She recalled hearing through her groggy sleep, Nadir telling her mother he would be but several rooms away taking rest while she herself retired to her bedchamber. That had been all Meg could recall of the last hours since the bit of coffee and cake. She shrugged her shoulders. She should have known better than having sweets and coffee before bed, it never boded well for her to rest soundly. She blinked several more times, just staring up at the glittering, perfectly cut, crystals of the chandelier. As no others stirred, she thought to allow herself to drift slowly back into the netherworlds of slumber.

Slowly her eyes fluttered closed under the heaviness of her lids. They were seemingly weighted down with heavy anchors of sand. She'd not long been drifting in her relaxation when her eyes flew open hastily. There was a muffled gurgling sound. Sitting straight up on the divan, she looked this way and that. At first, the barely-lit room revealed little. Her focus still quite strained. Then her hand flew to her lips muffling a great scream, for there in the corner sat Raoul, bloodied, bandage wrapped about his head, trousers filthy, shirt sodden, he was in utter shambles. She sat erect, gasping, every movement now seeming involuntary. Her eyes flew around the room, how had he gained entrance? Had anyone come with him, why was he bandaged…what of the blood!

Meg felt herself going faint, as was oft her reaction to such fright, but she closed her eyes fighting the urge, telling herself to breathe in, breathe out, breathe in slowly, out slowly. As she settled into a slow, steady rhythm, she felt strong enough to open her eyes. She turned looking at Raoul, her lower lip quivering…he looked so small, so hollow, so defeated. She could neither imagine what had found him there, nor how he had stolen away from the doctor's watchful eye. How had he known where to find her? Why was he a disheveled mess, bound and bleeding? Her mind whirled with possibilities.

Instinct began to take over as she rolled to her side, slipping on her robe and taking the blanket, warmed from her own body, gently placing it over Raoul. He barely flinched. She looked down at what he clasped with the grip of death in his hands. She wondered at it, for if he'd had a cloak with him, why then did he not wear it for warmth? That was one of many questions she would ask him when he awoke. Now she'd simply want to make him comfortable and not disturb him to wake, for she was far from ready to greet him as a fiancé ought.

She was in shock, knowing full well she'd not be able to hide her horror of surprise from him should he wake and find her fussing over him. Was she happy to see him…yes, always…he made her heart pound beneath her flesh. But this very moment, her heart pounded from the terror that ran through her as surely as her own blood…how long had he been there, what had he seen, what had he heard, she, Nadir and her mother had spoken of a great many things. What should have happened if Christine or Erik had paid an unexpected visit, what if….

She shook her head. She had to stop this line of thinking lest she work herself once more into a frenzied lather. Her eyes had never left him as she'd rambled through her wonders. She looked down at the cloak, gently tugging from his hands. She laid it aside as she placed a small sitting pillow behind his head, tucking in the blanket here and there to keep him warm. She walked over to the fire that had dwindled in the fireplace. She'd set about building it into a goodly fire, warming the room thoroughly. Kneeling before the fire, she slid slim pieces of wood into it until it grew nicely.

Turning, she looked at Raoul; he'd not moved so much as a hair. He looked decidedly more comfortable than when first she'd laid eyes on him. Meg turned again looking into the fire as she stood, examining it to be certain it would not falter if left untended. Meg had already made up her mind, she'd go first to her mother, warning her of Raoul's presence, lest she'd rise and frighten to within an inch of her life upon finding him there. Then she would seek out Nadir… No…she shook her head. A more prudent course would be to counsel with Nadir at the outset. If something was amiss, she'd want for him to be looking into it before she needless frightened her mother. There simply must be some explanation as to his appearance there, unguarded as he was.

Meg rose from her haunches, walking with the trained silent gait of a ballerina. Part way to the door she spied the cloak laying on the floor. She'd hang it by the fire so that it was warm and dry when Raoul was next ready to make use of it. As she walked toward it mindlessly she thought…his presence would most certainly complicate things as they could not reach Erik and Christine to warn them, neither could they, she was entirely certain, find a way to circumvent Raoul's attendance at Sara's service. He had, after all, befriended the woman in his own way.

Meg was improvising as she thought. Perhaps she herself could feign illness, convincing Raoul to stay at her side whilst her mother and Nadir ventured to the cemetery. The thought of not saying a proper goodbye to Christine and Erik pained her greatly, but what other choice did Raoul's unexpected arrival now leave her?

She lifted the cloak quietly shaking out the length of the fabric. It was much smaller than she'd imagined, and then her breath caught, this cloak had a hood! This was surely a ladies cloak, Raoul's cloaks had no hoods….to whom did it belong? She held it out in front of her, it looked oddly familiar, but then all cloaks of that sort were similar, there was no way of knowing… Her eyes widened, she reached inside the pocket, the first produced nothing, and the second the same. Meg folded it over her arm, then went to hang it on the hook on the hearth. Perhaps it had been offered him along the way, or was even one he'd gathered by mistake. She would ask Raoul where he had found it when he woke.

She turned to leave the room, then she returned to the garment. Often young ladies would tuck a handkerchief inside the small pocket designed for coins on the inner side of the cloak. She slipped her hand beneath the cloak, fully expecting to expose nothing more than she already had. Her eyes widened as she felt the soft fabric that fell out of the pocket into her hand. She quietly slid it out into plain view, lifting it so that she could see in the light of the fire. A daffodil pattern…..and then, just before the room went black, she saw the embroidered initials that she knew belonged to one person alone…for she'd seen them so many times as a child….CD…Christine Daae!

Madame Giry rose from the bed in a flash, pulling the doors open, having heard a loud aching gasp and a thunderous crash. She flew through the door, Nadir having made his way in, gun in his hand, just as Madame Giry knelt beside Meg unconscious on the floor. Neither had looked just beyond at the form that now stirred in the shadows.

"Is she alright?" Nadir was panting, blinking heavily trying to wake himself fully.

"She's fainted, I dare say something frightened her!" Madame Giry was looking around frantically trying to find something to fan her. She reached down taking the small cloth from Meg's hand, and began shaking it loosely over Meg's face. It was then that she saw…her eyes growing wide… "where on earth did she…" her voice ran cold.

Nadir motioned for her to be silent; he looked as if he'd seen a ghost. His one finger pushed tightly over his pursed lips, the other now pointing at some point over her shoulder. Nadir's eyes were wide with horror. Slowly he walked toward Madame Giry, placing a hand on her shoulder as she turned to see what Nadir was pointing at. She gasped, nearly fainting herself, for there, sitting in the chair was Raoul…and before him on the floor…was Christine's cloak! Madame Giry had given it to the girl herself…and she had been wearing it just hours before to shield herself from the cold of the caverns below. Madame Giry nearly keeled over on top of Meg, and were it not for the fact that Nadir had firm hold on her, she would have done just so.

Nadir helped Madame Giry to her feet, taking her reticently away from Meg's side to her bedchamber, closing the doors. He lead her to the bed sitting her down before he ever let go of her. She gasped, though she tried to stifle it.

"Nadir…what on earth does this mean?" she said through strained breaths. "How is it that he arrived here, and where…oh there is but one way that he'd found that cloak…" she gasped…the thought was too terrible to speak of. They'd have been caught venturing to wherever they had been going, and now, only the good Lord knew what had become of them! Had they been shot, Erik trying to protect Christine…the two of them fleeing…Christine being spotted, and Erik trying to resist… She shook her head, all of the possibilities led to the same conclusion, they had been found, and all that Raoul could return to Meg with was Christine's cloak. But…if that had been so, why had he not woken them? She gasped, realizing she'd been holding her breath, wringing her hands.

Nadir shook his head. He did not know…and there was but one way to find out, and that was to wake Raoul.

XXXXX

Erphan was carefully pacing the long halls of the woman's shop. Everyone else, save himself, was sound in slumber. He'd wait dutifully until someone woke. He'd thought about loading the sleigh with what had to be returned to the winter house, but then realized it was precious little that could be taken out, as nearly all would be needed before they'd depart.

He stood, looking longingly out at the streets of Paris through the imposing beveled glass door that he'd passed through just the day before. It had been a fine night, and a fine visit to the City. He'd fought with himself, thinking that a mere hour would mean little to those who now slumbered, and he could quite easily venture out with nary a notice, as all were soundly asleep.

He'd left and returned to the door several times, with each return he'd admonish himself that traveling without express permission from his master could lead to a great many things, but what he feared most was the loss of trust that he'd worked so hard now to earn. He was entirely torn, but in the end, he picked up a book in the woman's library, and settled once more into room where the other young man slept. He'd made himself a strong cup of Earl Grey. A story, he'd learned as of late, was a worthy companion for time that could not be occupied with some other duty or distraction. He sat back on the divan, resting comfortably before he opened the book. It mattered little the title, the book was full of short stories, and that was suitable for the moment, for he'd never have time to finish a lengthy volume, and he'd not want to abandon a story half-read if it held his interest.

XXXXXX

Outside, on a lamppost, not far from the seamstress shop, hung the remnants of a faded and weather-worn poster. A sketchy drawing of a woman gone lost during the great fire at the Opera Populaire. Most notices had been diligently removed throughout the City, at the behest of elder DeChagny, some long weeks before. This one remained, likely overlooked as the location was rather obscure. It would rarely be seen, and certainly only by those who passed through that part of the City. And to them, it would be old news. The City had been healing itself, and the disappearance of a poor little chorus girl-come betrothed of a Victome, was all but entirely forgotten. Though weather had diminished nearly all its distinguishing marks, to the inquiring eye it was unmistakable, it was Christine Daae.

XXXXXXXX

The Barron was barely able to function, imagining where along the path into Paris he would find Raoul. He'd kept his eyes peeled for signs of blood or struggle, but thus far there had been none. The lone set of the prints of a horse at full gallop was the only evidence that was visible that indeed the horse that left DeChagny's house was bound for Paris.

The doctor was castigating himself; how could he have given in to his exhaustion so irresponsibly? He did not know. He'd stood watch over a great many men and women in their hours of need, and not once had he ever been so remiss in his duties. True, Raoul had not been in grave danger, but he had been under his watchful keep. He'd given Meg his word that he'd look after him; that she could easily and without worry accompany her mother into Paris…that Raoul would be mending and waiting for her return.

Having reached the last turn by the cemetery, before the straightaway into the City, he glanced over. He shuddered. The normally dormant knolls looked other-worldly. Bits of turned earth, flung carelessly about on the top of snow. Dead hares and possums scattered here and there...surely some beasts having hunted after enduring great hunger during the storm. No matter if it was nature or not, there was something entirely repulsive about seeing it first hand. He'd be glad to be once again within the civilized walls of the City.

The horse's stride beneath had him had been steady and true. Traveling in such a mess of melting snow, muddied soil and every other combination of earth and water that could be imagined, had not been easy. Not having found Raoul along the path, there was only one plausible locale for the man, and that would be the Opera House. He'd punish himself a long while for ever having told Raoul of Meg's whereabouts. Had he not told him, he'd not have known where the object of his affections had ventured to.

He thought of the Opera House, hoping that Raoul would have made it that far without incident, and so far the prospects of an unblemished ride into the City, looked to be quite promising of such a favorable outcome. The knowledge that the sleigh was at the Opera House comforted him. Once he was certain Raoul was safe and well, he'd administer a good dose of medicine and return him to DeChagny Manor for a proper rest.

As he came to the edge of Paris he thought to himself, Raoul had no idea how very fortunate his circumstance were…he could well have died from a blow to the head such as he'd endured. It was the arrogant, determined, selflessness that Raoul suffered from, that caused the Barron to worry for him as he did. It was both a blessing and a curse on Raoul's soul. He would be beloved by those in his charge for his compassion, and pitied as a weak-minded man by Parisian society for the risks he took saving and helping the un-notables. He hoped, that one day Raoul would not have to learn through great hardship, that he'd need to heed the cautions shown him, or those he cared for, would be deprived of far more than whatever loss he'd intended to protect them from.

XXXX

Christine dreamed as she slept in her half-prone position. She traveled through the mists, to a place where she'd found herself more times now than she could count.

Erik was wandering on the shore of a beach, a small son in his arms, a young rather stately girl walking beside him, her small hand in his. As many times as she'd had this dream, Christine had never heard them utter so much as a word. Today was different. She heard the little girl speaking, matter-of-factly to her father.

"Daddy, why is mommy so sad?" The little girl inquired of Erik, as she looked up with undulating adoration at her father.

Erik looked down, all the compassion one could ever see conveyed from one human to another in his glance. It was obvious in his gaze that he loved his daughter more than the life that coursed through his own veins. "My dear Katherine, your mother is not sad, she merely misses them as she would miss you or I if we were in heaven."

Katherine looked up at Erik, love abounding in her glance. "Does mother love all of us the same?" She looked down at her little brother who was now dipping his toes into the surf of the low tide.

Christine seemed to watch from above, as though suspended in air as a pendant hanging from a cloud. She felt as if she could travel at will between conversation and thoughts as quickly as her heart bid her.

"Your mother loves each of you, as I most certainly do." He reached out his finger touching the tip of her nose playfully. "Of this you can be certain. Each of you were conceived in love, born in love, and raised in love. I shan't be able to think of a time that I did not love your mother with every shred of my being. And as strong a love as we have for one another, and do not discount that love, for it is a great one, that can still not compare to the love a mother has for those she bares of her own flesh. For me to say that she loves you no more nor less than she loved them would be anything but truthful my dear Katherine."

The girl seemed to be satisfied with her father's reply. She scampered along the shore, running her toes in the clear warm waters, picking up shells, showing them to her brother. For all the things that seemed to matter most, the assurances of the love of her mother was tantamount to being in heaven itself.

Though she did not understand the meaning of it, Christine no longer feared the dream. Whatever made the dream twist this way and that she did not know. It seemed that she never knew which way the dream would turn, and surely it was but a dream. She smiled at having seen Erik with babe in arms. She knew in her heart of hearts, that he would be a wonderful father…she'd seen it so with her own eyes now, and her heart did not doubt it. It warmed her to think that in delivering his own flesh and blood to him, she would fulfill for him, the one wish that he had…to be loved by flesh of their flesh, without condition.

She opened her eyes cautiously. Erik was still sound asleep on the divan. She'd only left him for but a moment in her slumber, but somehow just gazing upon his sleeping form made her feel as though she were once again at home. For she'd learned long before, it was those that you loved that gave any structure to the word home, leastwise the very special place in one's heart, the inner court where only those one held with the closest affections were permitted residence.

XXXXXXX

A small huddled mass of four stood around a rather obscure grave at sunrise. There was no fanfare, no formal gathering of a gaggle of humanity mourning the loss of some member of their society. There, the mother, daughter, doctor, and vicar, stood silently reflecting on the words they'd just recited from the Psalms. It was as Victoria would have wanted it.

The few tears that were shed, were hastened to a premature end, by the knowledge that outside of the cemetery gates, closed to afford them privacy, was a group of intruding curious eyes.

Seemingly all wanted to know, what caused her to go out into a storm so dreadful that no man had dared venture out into it for fear of his own demise. They had bantered hungrily amongst themselves, certain that though they knew not WHY, they did know WHAT. It had indeed been her curious ways that killed the woman, they'd surmised, as surely as the glass that ran her through, draining her of all life's blood.

But as much as they were curious of the laying to rest of the woman whom all thought to be crazy, and though they'd not admit it forthright, were glad to be rid of her, they were far more curious yet of something beyond her death. What did they truly know of this man who so gallantly saved her? From where had he come, and for what fitting reason had the woman that now lay in burial chamber, find fascination with him such that she'd cause a furor whenever she encountered him? Though they would remain silent out of respect, their minds raced heavily in speculation. Perhaps one day the story would be revealed, lest rumor, being what it often was, created a tale all its own.

The doctor thought he'd understood the poor woman until he stood over her motionless body, offering up her penance. He hoped that, posthumously, she could be redeemed for all she'd done in her life. Though what details he knew were scant, he'd come to understand that there was much more to the woman's life than anyone had ever…or had ever cared enough to know.


	190. A City In Common

Chapter 190 A City In Common 

The sun shone with great intensity through the windows of the house high on the hill. The day would be warm, there was little doubt of it. The lady sat with her eyes closed, her face lifted toward the golden rays that flickered through the large drops of water running from the cascading icicles that clung heavily to the overhang outside the large windows overlooking Chausesser. She'd been doing this since she was a rather young woman, all those many years ago. Each time she poised her flesh to the bathing glow of this force of nature, it was as if she harbored the longings of a bird awaiting the first hints of spring. She recalled with great fondness the words of her mother. Too much light would cause her skin to go dry and leathery; too little would cause her to look sickly and sallow. It was, as it is with everything, a balance that must be struck to preserve that which is precious. To look upon the sun as it shone, was like looking into the face of God himself, warming and life-giving. If one tried to focus on it, their sight would be lost forever in punishment. If one glanced at it, treating it with much deserved reverence, it would willingly impart its blessing of warmth and comfort.

As she sat, her cheeks growing from barely warmed flesh, to a tulip petal pink, to the deep blush of a newly blooming sweet-heart rose, she relished it. Though her eyes were closed, they could not escape the light. The irises moved about beneath the amber imbued shroud of the lid that covered them with a veil of protection from that which lay just outside of it.

She wondered yet again at the odd correlation… she often felt this way with Chauesser and Paris……she and her lover…long lost now.

Chauesser had been the small City, hours from Paris, and she a young flower, in full bloom for the picking. Paris was the large, formidable City, laying off in the distance. Awe and power surrounded even the visitors that traveled from there, if only for a season, and he…he had been one such as this. The flower had innocently turned to the warmth of the sun as it rose from the distant City, in all of its wonder and glory. The small flower looked forward with trembling anticipation to the arrival of the sun every day, and mourned each night as it left her. Yet she smiled for the sun would return to her only to be disguised in the darkness, as the moon. Ahh…it was as the moon that the sun shone its brightest. For in the cool moonlight, the flower and the sun could share in their love…without fear that the sun would consume the tender blossom…scorching it with its intense rays…. But as the moon…yes…as the moon…he could embrace her…love her….caress every petal without fear. The flower could drink in the dew of the cool gentle shafts of moonlight as it danced all around her…embracing her. Then, as the wee hours of the night would wane…the moon would depart…only to return once more as the sun, glowing, formidable, to shine over her, warm her. As long as she did not look upon it with her eyes, she could bask in its warmth and love.

She sighed. It had taken years for her to fashion this thought in her mind…in her soul. In some inexplicable way, it helped her to harbor those feelings which connected her to the man she'd fallen in love with all those years ago. As with the return of the sun each morning, and the rising of the moon at night, every day renewed her hope that perhaps, if not in this world then surely in the next, they would find their way to one another.

Her cheeks were warm, nay, hot to the touch now, and in her mind, it was as if he was greeting her, embracing her, in the only way he could now. Oh why had it been forbidden that they love? Why had her father been so hell-bent to keep them parted? Yes, perhaps he was merely a boy, and perhaps of no particular breeding or standing in her father's eyes…but he did not truly know him. Did not love count for something? Did her happiness mean so little to him that he would part her with the man whom she would love forever?

A tear rolled down her cheek, her teeth gritting almost instinctively. Had her child not been parted from her, she would have seen to his every happiness, no matter the cost, no matter what polite society thought. For happiness, she'd come to understand through the seasoning of bitter decades, was far more precious than the opinions of men.

Happiness…true happiness, was for her an illusion now. Perhaps that is why she'd spent her life's work making others happy…caring for their needs. If one could not partake of happiness themselves, then there would be some reward in bestowing it upon others. She smiled though the tears flowed freely.

In her ears she could hear her mother's words. She reached her hand up touching the flesh of her cheek, it was warm. She inhaled, exhaling slowly as she lowered her face, turning her back on the sun. Her eyes remained closed, as they always did, as she made her way to her chair. It would be minutes before her cheeks would cool, and her sight fully return. It was the part of this ritual she never enjoyed, for as the warmth left her, and the amber glow departed from her eyelids, she was brought back to the cruel reality that faced her. Her life had become a mere reflection of a love long passed. In the present...this day….the sun was not the man, and she was not the small flower. They were destined, she was certain, to only be together in her mind. And though this process tortured her, she'd do it every day she could until she no longer had the will to do so.

She opened her eyes slowly. She saw out of the corner of her eye, the maid disappear behind the door. She smiled, surely it was an odd thing, nay many odd things that she did that would certainly cause them all to have wonder about her mind; but she cared not. She'd long since given up worrying about the approval of others. She need explain herself to no one. She half laughed, for surely if she did, they'd think her even more mad than they'd ever have been able to imagine. Some minds did not work the same, and many feared what they could not understand…what they could not wrap their mind around. She'd but known only one man who'd appreciated her for who she was…and he…he…had been taken from her, forever.

She stood, it was time, she'd have another task for Andre today. There was much to be done, the celebration was not far off now, and this year, it would be special. For even if the man would not be talked into being honored directly, perhaps, as the sun was the symbol for her of the man she'd love forever, perhaps there would be a suitable way to honor the heroics of a man, and perhaps even as much, with what humility he performed his duties. For a true hero never did any more than what he thought anyone ought to do, and thought so little of himself in the service to the greater good. That, she smiled, was the truest form of heroics. Yes, there must be something, some way of honoring him, some symbol that would inspire the citizens of Chauesser to do good onto one another. She would think on it…surely something would come to her…

XXXX

Erik woke, his chest was heavy and he felt as if he were burning with the rages of a fever. A gentle hand crossed his forehead, replacing a warmed compress with a fresh cool one. He felt the trickle of the chilled water run down the sides of his temples into his hair. He looked up into Christine's eyes, they had a worried and compassionate look in them. She leaned down, her lips tenderly embracing his.

"Good morning my love." She turned to dip a cloth into a basin next to him. Erik listened as he heard her wring the rag, the water dripping back into the bowl. He closed his eyes as he felt the cool of the fabric as Christine ran it over his chest, and down each of his arms. He shuddered involuntarily. His skin felt like it had been set on fire. He stared up at her watching as she continued until her hand placed on his skin felt cool. She took another cloth and blotted his skin dry before covering it with a thin sheet. Somewhere during the time that he'd slept, his nightshirt had been abandoned.

"Christine, what time is it my love, should we not be preparing to go, surely they will even now be waiting for us if it is nearing the time we'd agreed to meet them." Erik looked up at Christine as she slid her arm beneath his back, gently trying to glide him from his prone position. He lifted his shoulders, as Christine tucked several large pillows behind his back. She lifted a rather large teacup to his lips. He winced as he took a goodly sip, for it was not merely tea, it had been laced with something…he smiled, surely Christine and the woman had been in collusion once again, he recognized her old medicines, the bitter taste was unforgettable.

"Erick," she whispered, "You are not well enough to even rise from this bed. I know with what protest you shall meet this news, but you must save your breath, for it is already done." She slid next to him on the divan; perhaps her physical touch would soften her words. She ran her hand along his forearm as she leaned into his chest. Erik's arms circling her as they always did now without so much as a conscious thought.

"You must rest my love, if we are to venture back to Chauesser on the morrow then, you will have to be well enough to endure the ride, for it is long." She ran her hand along the exposed flesh of his chest, causing Erik to close his eyes. Christine smiled. She was just at the beginning of her understanding of what power lay within her touch. "I dare say, we may have to borrow the woman's carriage and return later for the sleigh, as it much altered outside today, the snow is retreating quite rapidly."

Erik leaned his head back into the pillows, relaxing into the comfort of it. "You've sent word have you?" Christine merely nodded. Erik sighed. "Do you not think they will find it strange that we agreed to meet and then went against our word….that they will not worry that something terrible has happened?" Erik said with great concern in his voice.

Christine smiled, turning her face just slightly to place a kiss on Erik's chest, and then lifted his hand, placing one in his palm. She held his hand close to her heart. "Do not think that I did not consider this heavily before I sent the boy out as messenger. The note, though simple, I am certain will suffice, even if it should be viewed by eyes other than the intended. Do give me some credit my dear…after all…I've learned a great deal from a rather clever mentor." She turned smiling up at him.

Erik's lips started to feel cold, a great shiver rose in him, causing him to shake.

Christine sat up; she knew this process well. His fever would crest and fall several more times before it broke, but she'd no doubt he would be well. Rising from the divan, Christine pulled several more blankets over Erik to cover him as his shaking worsened.

"I know my love, you are cold." Her hand brushing across his forehead pushing the hair from his brow. She turned and walked to the fire, placing deep within the hearth the several smaller logs that Erphan had brought in for her. When it was time for the larger ones, he would see to those himself.

She turned to see Erik's eyes boring through her. She smiled as she returned to his side, lifting the covers she slipped in next to him, pulling him down once more to his back. She ran her hand along his chest, and shoulder. He shuddered harder. She looked at him, though he'd not complain, she could read it in the pleading of his eyes…he was so cold. Gently she tugged at her own nightgown, slipping it over her head, pressing her warm flesh against his. He closed his eyes, the warmth seemed to soothe him from the inside. She nestled in as close as she could, continuing to run her hands over his shoulder and arm, until she could feel that his shaking had ceased, and his eyes were now closed. He'd fallen back to sleep, and she smiled, knowing she'd brought him some comfort.

She thought to herself that Erik would be unhappy that he'd broken his promise to Nadir on her account, having not met them as they planned. But she was now his wife, and had to think of what was best for him, even if he was unaccustomed to being cared for in this way. She thought rather sternly to herself, it would be in his own best interest to become used to it, for she was likely to continue doing so….for whatever remained of their life together!

She ran her hand along his chest; hoping that the woman's words were true. Several days rest, brewed herbs and lemon, and the love of a wife would mend him well. Perhaps she worried needlessly over colds and the like, but she'd seen him suffer a great deal…and she'd not want for that to ever happen again.

What had concerned her as much as anything this last day, was how red his cheek had grown, and how it had started to twitch again. The doctor's words haunted her still…he'd not finished his treatment. Erick still had need to be under his care. Now, the more she thought of it, the more Erik's decision to return them to Courtland Manor gave her less and less concern. Perhaps it was just as well they return there, for it was nearer the doctor, for both of their sakes. The winter house would remain a special place for them, and though it were closer to Paris, and therefore to Nadir, Meg, and Madame Giry, she had need now to think of her husband, and the children that grew within her. She'd always known she'd be making a choice when the day came for them to part…she could simply not have predicted just how difficult it would be to make. She nestled her head once more into Erik's chest. The note would be soon delivered if it had not already arrived. There was no turning back now…only moving forward…into the preciousness of what married life could truly be.

XXXXX

Meg was recovering on the divan, her eyes fluttering as her nose detected the most putrid of scents. The first she saw when her eyes opened, was Nadir's grinning face looking down at her.

"Miss Meg, how very lovely of you to join us!"

She blinked, it was Nadir, but something in his more than normal jovial tone, told her without looking that they were not alone, and she'd need to guard her words.

"What happened?" She asked innocently, knowing full well what had caused her to faint…Raoul had brought with him the cloak that belonged to Christine, and how and where he had laid claim to it frightened her to no end!

Her mother's face appeared above her. "You fainted child, no doubt at the surprise of finding Raoul here when you awoke." She made a faint move with her eyes as if to indicate to Meg that someone was just off to the side of her.

"Mother, is he well, the last I recall, I'd seen a bandage about his head…" she stopped in horror as she heard the voice that was just beyond her mother.

"He is being tended to by the family physician just now young lady. The fool thought himself well enough to venture into Paris on his own, now I dare say he shall pay in spades for his impulsiveness." The elder DeChagny's voice was rather gruff, no hint of compassion for his son's predicament in his temperament.

Meg lay very still. She'd not really know what to say or do, so for now, silence was her ally. She wondered, Nadir seeing it in her eye, brushed her hair from her cheek. "Do not worry Meg, he will be quite well, just a bit of repair to his stitches was in order." Nadir blinked his eyes slowly at her, nodding slightly, smiling. She knew it meant that she'd have to be patient, that he would explain all of it when they were once again alone. For now she'd need do nothing but rest herself.

There was a knock at the door, causing even Meg to turn her head inquisitively. DeChagny rose, walking to the door, through it and out into the foyer, and to the outer door. She could hear some muffled conversation, a bit of a chuckle, and then the door closed once more. She listened as his footsteps returned to the room, closing the inner door. He walked over to Nadir.

"A messenger has just arrived with this note. No reply is needed, that was his instructions, so I sent him on his way." He handed the envelope to Nadir. He returned to his seat, rearranging his long riding jacket. He himself was not long off his horse, having arrived not long after the doctor, who, as he now had come to understand, had arrived not long after Raoul. "I've further arranged for lunch to be delivered to us, and since there is not sufficient room in your quarters dear lady," he nodded to Madame Giry, "I've arranged for it to be brought to the great hall at the other end of the dormitories, that we might dine there together."

Madame Giry nodded her head politely, though her mind was immediately wandering to other things. First, the contents of that note, and to how they were now to ever steal away to go to Sara's grave.

Nadir had risen, drawing his spectacles from his pocket, feigning the need for additional light so he might move toward the French doors leading out onto the veranda, thus affording him some privacy, if not for the words, then surely his reaction to whatever he found within the body of the writing. His thumb slid easily beneath the wax, releasing the pages from the envelope, he carefully tucked it beneath his arm. Unfolding the parchment he read.

"My dearest Family,

It is with great regret that I must alert you to our rather unexpected change of plans. Stephan took ill during the night, and as the doctor had not accompanied us, I've need to return Stephan to his watchful care straight away. I'd have delivered such news myself, but there was little time. I think with several days rest, he might recover enough to travel on now to the summer house, he always seems to do so much better wandering in the gardens of the house by the sea. I dare say that is where we shall remain until the winds of winter come calling again…we've known such joy there, and though great changes will no doubt befall us whilst we are there, we shall make the best of it until such time as God decides to reposition us on this earth otherwise.

I do apologize that though we'd come with full intentions of paying our last respects to Sara, we shall have to rescind our agreement. I do so have hope that you've opportunity to visit us, once more before time changes us both into something we are now not, but we shall understand if circumstances do not permit it. At the very least, should all go well, please plan to join us in November once more at the winter house when the gales of November send us far ashore from the sea.

In our constant affections,

Elizabeth"

Nadir sighed, a bit relieved. Something had caused them to return to Courtland Manor, and now the worry of a chance encounter that very day, quickly dissolved. They were not planning to stay at the winter house, perhaps Erik had convinced Christine as to the prudence of moving to Courtland Manor. Nadir doubted that Erik was sick. Perhaps Christine had had another vision, warning them of Raoul's arrival. Whatever it had been, he was grateful for it, for now they had time to have a meal, and proceed to find out what had transpired. He had hopes that he'd have time alone with Raoul, to find out why he'd Christine's cloak. No doubt there had not been an encounter, or Christine would have eluded to as much in her note, and she had not.

"Nadir?" Madame Giry was gently touching his forearm. "Is everything well?" She tried to conceal the anxiousness in her voice. She'd had much training in it, having covered a great many errors in performances or production with the calmness of her voice.

Nadir nodded, "yes, though our dear Stephan and Elizabeth had to return home unexpectedly in the night. I am afraid that he is not feeling well, and that Elizabeth felt they must return to Courtland Manor, to where he can be properly attended to by his physician." He folded the paper and put it back into the envelope, tucking it into his breast pocket.

DeChagny asked, "Courtland Manor, is this the winter house that I've oft heard you mention Meg?" He looked at her.

Meg blinked, she'd want to converse as little as possible, lest she say something she ought not. "No monsieur, Courtland Manor lays quite far from the winter house. It is their residence proper. The winter house near Chausesser that the household retreats to when the gales of winter make Courtland Manor a less desirable place to be." Meg was pleased with her response, and wondered why her mother stared at her, and Nadir had his eyes fixed on where she was certain Raoul's father sat.

DeChagny had grabbed the back of the chair he now stood behind. He closed his eyes. "Chauesser…" he said so quietly beneath his breath that it was barely audible. He'd not thought of that City since last he and Nadir had spoken long before. He pressed his eyes tightly before he opened them again, his lip a bit stiffer, and his back a bit straighter.

"I shall go to check on the meal, do excuse me." With that he turned rather abruptly and made his way out into the foyer, and then to the outer door of the suite. He closed that door behind him, leaning heavily against it. He wondered….had any of them known the woman…had Meg's family known Claire? Perhaps she would have been known to Elizabeth, perhaps Madame Giry herself? He pressed his eyes closed trying to stifle the tears that now swelled within him.

It was his life's greatest regret…..he should have fought harder for her…. He shook his head. Surely he could not wish away the past he did have, he thought to himself as he walked passed the room where his son now lay being stitched up from his own stubbornness. For surely even now his son was a hero…how could he have deprived Paris of that? No he missed her…the memory of a woman he loved still. Perhaps when Raoul planned to pay a visit with Meg to Stephan and Elizabeth…he'd go with them. Perhaps walking the streets of that little City would somehow bring him comfort…somehow heal the hole that he bore for her still. He sighed, yes perhaps it would do well for him, though none would understand his sudden support for this girl who was not of noble upbringing to whom his son hand confessed his undying love. But at this moment, it was ironic. In embracing the happiness of his son, he might very well bring redemption to his own heart. For it had been in that City he'd found his first love…and to think that his son's love had roots there…gave him an odd pleasure…he could not explain. Perhaps in some ways, he and his son were not so different at the core…perhaps it had been the trappings of the world that had parted them, not their souls.

XXXXXX

At the edge of the City, in the cemetery just at the ridge, stood two men, a gravedigger and a Priest. They'd waited a goodly long while for the family to arrive. It had been over an hour now, and none had joined them. The gravedigger had heeded the nod of the priest and begun filling the hole with dirt, covering the casket that lay below. There was no explanation, no children, no friends, just a woman going out of the world as she'd come into it, alone.

The priest was saying a few prayers out loud softly as shovel after shovel filled the hole. He looked up, in the distance was a lone horseman, just having come through the gates of the cemetery. He watched, continuing to pray as the man maneuvered toward them through gravestone and monument.

Soon enough the mounted man was at his side, his hand extended. "Dear sir," he nodded. He himself was not Catholic, and did not know how to address this man in robes. "I've no note, but a simple message for you. The family is unable to come. Several have taken ill. Do not worry sir," he reached out his hand toward the priest, a small leather pouch was in it. The priest gave him a curious look. "From DeChagny sir." The man said, shaking it as if to entreat the priest to take it from him.

The priest scowled. "And what is this?"

"A little something for your troubles." The man said, looking around at the other graves that were freshly turned, no doubt still awaiting their permanent occupants.

The priest withdrew, taking a few steps back. "My troubles? This is a funeral sir, for one of my parishioners, think you that this is trouble to me…to do my duty?"

The man looked at him in disbelief. He'd never known any to turn down DeChagny's generosity.

The priest looked up at him resolutely. "Offerings are acceptable yes, but thinking of paying one in God's service for their troubles, as you so put them is deplorable. I'm God's servant, not a pawn of your employer."

The man looked down at him, he'd become as restless as the horse beneath him who neighed and whinnied. "Suit yourself…" he turned to leave, "even a man of the cloth has to eat does he not?"

The priest looked at him with great disdain as the man pulled on the reins of his horse, tossing the leather pouch down into the snow, giving the horse several sharp jabs to his sides.

The priest looked down at the pouch that lay open in the snow, several coins now peeking out. He looked at the gravedigger who was looking curiously between the pouch and the priest. He ventured, "are you a man of faith my son?"

The gravedigger shook his head, "you could say sir, I've put enough of them in the ground to know that what's dead is dead. I've never seen any of them come back. What I believe is that life ends when the body is in the ground."

The priest never flinched, kicking the pouch toward him in the snow. "Then it won't bother you to take this, if you are man of no conscience, at least you can make use of it."

The gravedigger smiled, snatching up the pouch, tucking it away before the priest thought better of it. He nodded to him.

The priest said one final prayer over Sara's grave and departed. He'd have none of DeChagny's money, not now, not ever. He'd been at DeChagny's wife's side when she died, and DeChagny? He had been with some visiting nobleman…..it was his duty after all, the guest couldn't be put off. He'd watched her cry bitterly for the man, her son and daughter her only comfort. No, DeChagny had been as busy at her time of death, as he had been all of their married life…and that sickened the priest…she'd been far too fine a wife and mother to be neglected.

The gravedigger finished what he'd been paid to do, and left himself having stamped the last bit down to cover it. He'd go home a bit richer man tonight.


	191. Women of Strength

Chapter 191 Women of Strength 

Misty had stood keeping watch out the back window for several hours now. She'd busied herself with the task of starching and pressing the curtains from the parlor. There were six pair, and it was a tedious job, but one that allowed her to stay in one place, by the window as she worked. It was a task that none, save Misty liked to do. But to her, it was mindless work she thought she'd have been able to do in her sleep. The house on the lower level reeked of vinegar; the windows each having received a proper washing to a glorious sheen. The sun, warm at mid-day had provided them opportunity to clean them, and they'd sorely needed it. She'd watched and watched as the sun sank behind the line of pine trees, praying for all of their safety, hoping that Crawlings had nothing to do with their delayed return.

She walked to the stove, exchanging the cooling iron for a hot one, returning once more to her task. She thought solemnly as she began to slide it over the starch soaked fabric, she'd have but one more day before she'd have to prepare a response to Lady C. in her master and mistress' absence. What would she say, except the truth…they'd been detained, for she knew nothing more. In the meanwhile, she'd go on planning and preparing the house for such an auspicious event as the visit by the Lady.

The house, if one could lift the roof and peer inside, would have looked rather like a busy anthill. Worker ants scurrying here and there, completing their assignments. The house would be perfect. Not one cushion un-fluffed, nor one sill not dusted. They were busy, but happily so. They'd spent many months, nay, years, in quiet service to their absent master. At the end of the day, they would retire to their quarters, feeling they were worth their salt.

XXXXX

Nicole had tended to the simple broth soup as her mother had sliced the bread and cheese. The doctor had gone about setting the table, and opening a bottle of wine he'd brought as a gift of thanks. He'd insisted that he not be waited upon, nor allowed to be excluded from the work to be done. He was not betrothed to either woman, nor was he related, so all familial obligation to be treated as a guest at leisure would not apply.

It was an arrangement of convenience for all of them, and nothing more. He smiled at Nicole who'd looked over her shoulder to see that the soup bowls were in place. Walking over retrieving them one by one, she'd eschewed use of a tureen at the doctor's behest, if they'd not use it if it had been just the two of them, he'd not want them to fuss with it on his account. Nicole brought the last of the bowls to the table, as he slid the chair in for Nicole's mother, quickly moving to the other side of the table to do the same for Nicole. His grandfather and father had agreed on one thing, a lady was always to be treated as a lady, and he'd no doubt that he was in the company of no less than the finest of them.

Nicole and her mother bowed their head, the doctor followed suit. "Would you do us the honor doctor?" Nicole's mother said, never looking up for his acknowledgement, but simply sat with head bowed in preparation.

Nicole never moved, though her eyes glanced at the doctor in surprise, knowing her mother had put him in an awkward position. She could do nothing to rescue him, though her heart pounded in embarrassment.

The doctor stared at his lap for a second before regaining his composure, then he closed his eyes, and began to pray.

"Our dear Lord in heaven, we thank you for this meal, and for the closeness we share with one another this very evening. Please bless these two fine women who have graciously agreed to permit me a brief stay here whilst my home is readied for me." He paused…could he be so bold as to speak his heart? If not now, when…perhaps being bold and honest from the start would be a benefit to them all. He pressed his eyes tightly closed. "Lord, please bless Nicole and her mother with your peace as they come to terms with the loss of their loved one Victoria. I pray that you guard their hearts and their health jealously and with favor. Lord if it is within your divine will, please heal our dear lady from her infirmities. If it be your will that she should live a long and prosperous life, let it be so." He swallowed, their had been no gasps nor fainting at the unreserved honesty.

"Lord, if it is within your divine will to allow Nicole…to find love and acceptance in the form of a fine young suitor, then let it be so, for she is more than deserving of it."

Nicole's throat felt as if it would constrict so tightly that she could take in no air. What had he known about this? She was not yet qualified to be an old maid, how was it that he thought…she pressed her eyes tightly…she knew not how she would look at him when the prayer was finished.

The doctor continued, "Lord, please allow me to make my grandfather proud, and with the help of these fine women, let me come to know and love the people of this City…as my grandfather before me." He paused, "in the name of Jesus the Christ we pray…Amen." He opened his eyes, raising his head cautiously. He dipped his spoon into his soup without looking up. Somehow it felt wrong to make contact with their eyes just now, for he had been very bold in his utterances.

"Very well doctor, very well. I too am thankful…thankful the prayer wasn't any longer lest the soup be entirely cold." She smirked at him, a glint in the corner of her eye. She glanced up at the doctor, he was smiling as he dipped his spoon into the soup once more. "That, good sir, was my attempt on humor, did you not find it amusing?" She said now taking her bread and dipping it into the soup.

The doctor glanced at Nicole, the smile on her face confirming that her mother was indeed jesting. He thought for a moment, a sardonic tone in his voice, he replied, "thank you dear lady, I'd have thought your humor would be reserved for more refined company."

The trio laughed. The doctor sighed in relief, if he had been too bold, he was forgiven, at least for the moment. A glance at Nicole still let him know that he had no doubt touched at a very soft part of her heart, and one, he could tell from her lack of eye contact, that she would have liked to have kept entirely private.

"Wonderful soup my dear…it was grandmother's favorite." Nicole's mother said as she looked into the swirling steam that rose from the bowl below her. She inhaled closing her eyes. She'd been eating it at least once every week for the majority of her life. Even when she'd been a married woman, she'd made it as much out of habit as anything, for it reminded her of the mother she missed far away. It would be no different now. Something about that soup would always keep her connected to her mother….in the coming months….until she at last joined her in heaven.

XXX

The Barron returned to the room where DeChagny, Meg, Nadir, and her mother sat awaiting word on Raoul. He'd washed off all evidence of the blood he'd been bathed in just moments before. Quietly he closed the doors behind him. Four pair of eyes lay intently on his face, what did he know?

He came to sit on the divan next to DeChagny, opposite Meg. Madame Giry had risen and was even now offering him a cup of tea. He thanked her for it, taking a sip before he began.

"Raoul's injury required a bit of re-stitching. Whatever or wherever he found himself, he'd somehow managed to rip out fully half of the stitches, the others barely clinging together. Had they not remained, I shudder to think that he may have very well bled to death. He is weary now, and I've given him something to keep him at rest. He will have to return to his home for rest. I dare say his exertions will no doubt cause his recovery to be lengthened."

He turned to look at Raoul's father. "As long as your son is obedient, he will make full recovery. He simply must stay still for several days until his scalp heals, and the stitches are properly settled."

He looked over at Meg, reaching out for her hand. "Dear Lady, I must tell you, I fear that it is my fault that he ventured here. He was concerned for you, and in a moment of stupidity, I'd made mention that you'd come to Paris with your mother. Though he seemed concerned at the time, he'd given no indication he'd any intentions of trying to follow you." His eyes wander to her mother, who was holding her other hand, soothing her. He smiled, his attentions returning to Meg. "My dear he loves you so, he was worried…"

Everyone in the room knew, without it being said, why Raoul would have been worried. The doctor shot Nadir a glance. They both knew what the others did not…who Raoul claimed to have seen…and why he would be worried for Meg's safety. The others knew only that Raoul had lost his last love in Paris…at the Opera House…and he'd be taking no chances with Meg's life…not now.

He glanced back at Meg. "He will recover, and my dear, I think now it would do well if you could be at his side, as much as you can tolerate. It provides him comfort, and will no doubt keep him in bed where he belongs if he knows you are safe." The doctor squeezed Meg's hand.

Meg looked around the room, Raoul's words haunting her…she knew what society would think of such things if she stayed in his room, and he'd been determined to protect both of their honor. She looked Raoul's father directly in the eye, if he'd condone it, she would do so. "Is it permitted? My being at his side while he convalesces?"

DeChagny sighed, he understood why she would ask. He recalled the bitter diatribe he and Raoul had exchanged on the very subject. "Meg, it is what is best for Raoul now that should concern us. If you are willing dear lady, then I shall take care of any who would question it. Do not worry." His chin was squared and certain, he'd see to the squelching of any rumors that started.

Meg smiled at him, nodding her head slightly. She glanced at the doctor, "then let it be so."

He nodded. Standing, he said, "very well." He looked around at the group, now confident that all would be well. "Did I hear someone mention a meal? Or was that my overactive mind reeling in the wonderful aromas that are wafting up the stairways?"

DeChagny rose, "not your imagination at all my friend, a meal is to be delivered to a room down the hall, I believe the architect called it a great or a gathering room in his plans." He came along side the doctor, the pair walking shoulder to shoulder to the door. Nadir rose, extending his arm to Madame Giry, who took it with a smile.

Meg hesitated, "if you do not mind". the group all turning to look at her. "I shall take my meal with Raoul." She blinked, lowering her eyes to her hands before looking up at them again.

The doctor walked over to her taking her hands into his. "Meg, he is resting now, you've need for something to eat, you look peaked my dear." He looked her in the eye, a sudden rush of compassion filling him.

"Monsieur…you yourself said that he would benefit from my attending at his side." Meg said softly.

"Yes my dear, but you should…"

Meg interrupted, "Sir, he would do it for me…he has done it for me…." She smiled just slightly, trying, he could tell, to fight back tears. She felt guilty for having left his side in the first place, though she could not have imagined missing her visit with Christine and Erik.

He patted her hand, "very well then, we shall have your meal sent in for you." He took her arm in his, he would escort her himself to Raoul's side. He'd want to reassure her when she saw him that all was well, all was normal, considering the circumstances. He'd had to shave off a bit more hair in back, and his scalp was swollen and red. He'd not covered it with a bandage for he'd hoped the wound would dry a bit before he'd cover it.

The rest of the group proceeded out the door and down the hall, the doctor and Meg exited, going to the first small dorm room on the right. It had a window, a small stove and a single bed and chair in it. It was all she would need to be at his side until they could return to DeChagny Manor where she could care for his every need until he was fully recovered. Perhaps it would be her turn to read to him, as he had to her, all those sleepless nights. The bond was forming, ever deeper. If she could be there for him in some small way, in return for all he had done for her, it would warm her heart to do it.

As she came to rest in the chair, the door closing behind her, she and Raoul were finally alone. She reached out to lay her hand on his. His face was carefully laid between two pillows, allowing the back of his head to point to the ceiling. She rubbed her fingers over his tenderly…he did not flinch. She rose, brushing a soft kiss across his cheek, staring at him for a long while, deep in thought. He had done so much for her….was so much to her now.

Her fingers wandered to the ring that he'd given her, recalling fondly the wonderful snowy afternoon he'd taken her to that special place, the grotto that lay at the very end of his property….the day he'd given it to her. How wonderful an afternoon it had been…eve without the gift it would have been an afternoon she'd have remembered all of her life. Never had any gentleman gone to such lengths to surprise her, to please her. She smiled widely, she imagined that was how it felt to be romanced. Her eyes studied Raoul's sleeping form….it hadn't been a dream…he had romanced her…and there had been no hint of Christine in that moment, it had been only she and Raoul. She smiled, and perhaps a little bit of the aura of his grandfather!

Her faced turned a bit serious, remembering the story he'd told her of his grandfather having learned a lesson at great cost. She smoothed the back of her hand along his cheek…he loved his grandfather dearly, respected, and protected the memory of the man vehemently. He had wished he was his grandfather's son, and in some ways, he couldn't have been more like the man he had described to her, if he had intended to be so.

Meg sighed, running her finger along the shape of Raoul's face, and across his lips. She stood just staring at him. Perhaps she'd need to remind him of the story when he woke. He would do well to glean the wisdom of the story he'd told her. One should always listen to what one is told, especially when proffered by those trained or seasoned in life to know the consequences of disobedience.

If he'd stayed in bed as he'd been instructed, none of this would have befallen him. He would even now be resting in his room, a proper meal in his lap, and good conversation and a warming fire his companions. As it was now, he'd relegated himself to days more of healing, and no doubt additional pain and suffering. She closed her eyes. His mind would be suffering as much as anything if he knew whose cloak he had in his possession. Meg, however, was allowing for the possibility that he might not have known, that it were a mere coincidence. She laughed, shaking her head…she knew better, though the possibility gave her mind chance to escape the horrors of the probable truths for a time.

She glanced away at the window. She leaned down giving him another kiss before she wandered over, pushing the curtain aside. She looked out at the City, lamenting. If he'd only listened, she might now find herself at Sara's graveside with Erik and Christine. Giving proper respect to a woman who had done so very much for them all.

Her mind flashed to Christine, her lip trembled as she said in a low breath, "where are you my sister…I pray that all is well." She reached out her hand placing it against the glass. If only she knew where Raoul had taken possession of the cloak…she would breathe a bit easier.

She glanced over at Raoul. Suddenly a bit of belated empathy gripped her. Oh how Christine would have suffered those months waiting for Erik to wake…never knowing if Erik would wake. She was saddened that she'd not been more sympathetic to her situation when she'd gone through the worst of it. She shook her head, perhaps it was something one could not fully empathize with, until one had some point of personal reference to the heartache. She closed her eyes to pray…pray for them all, for they needed it desperately.

XXXX

Christine had risen several times to uncover Erik, cool his forehead with a damp cloth, and encourage him to sip more of the tea from the pot kept warm by the fire. Then she'd rejoined him when the shivering started again. They'd made this course several times, silently, Erik allowing her to care for him without protest.

Christine smiled and cooed in his ear that he was being a very good patient, and that when he was well, he would be rewarded for his good behavior. That had caused him to smile through his fevered glances.

His coughing had stopped, no doubt a benefit of the herbs and lemon that the woman had brewed for him. It did indeed have the most bitter of aromas, Christine thought to herself, but Erik took it without complaint. She surmised that he must have known that there was advantage in the unpleasantness, for certainly none would have voluntarily taken something so horrid without assurances that the cure was worth it.

At last Christine settled in next to him once more, his chill having set in yet again, though his shaking was much diminished from several hours before. They lay, eyes open, facing one another on the pillow. They'd found themselves in that position so many times….just staring into one another's eyes. He seemed to be saying "thank you"….she seemed to be saying "I love you".

Christine lifted her hand to Erik's face, running it through his hair, pushing it away. He closed his eyes each time her hand passed over his cheek, the sensation was mesmerizing, even to his fevered skin. She smiled at him, sliding her hand down his shoulder and arm taking his hand into hers. Leading it to her flesh, she deposited their intertwined fingers over her abdomen. There was something about their singularity as separate bodies being joined in the most powerful way in their growing children. No matter the circumstances, the very act of placing their hands over that small bundle of proliferating flesh, as they dwelled safely within her, reminded them of what was most important now. Illness would pass, they would leave Paris, Spring would give way to Summer, and eventually to Autumn…and then…and then…their world would change forever.


	192. Curious

Chapter 192 Curious 

Erphan laid down the book on the table next to him. The silence of the house, coupled with the dripping of the rapidly departing icicles just outside the window, had nearly driven him mad. He was accustomed to some sort of noise, some sort of goings on at nearly all hours of the day, but most certainly, when the sun was up. He could nearly not take the silence.

He rose, walking over to look at several of the pictures in the parlor. Why they held such fascination for anyone, he couldn't tell, they were women, all women without faces, and in the strangest places one could imagine. How could anyone know what the woman was thinking without benefit of the expressions of a face? It struck him very odd that an artist would paint in that way. He had to give the artist this much, he had never beheld anything quite like them before!

Erphan paced back and forth until he was bored to distraction. He pushed the curtain aside, the sun seemed to beckon him…come out…come out…. He rubbed at his face walking over to the clock. It was nearly eleven in the morning. By now he'd have had breakfast, morning tea, and would even now be preparing for his lunch. So far this day he'd had several cups of tea, and a few kippers with a dried biscuit, hardly what he'd call a suitable replacement for more desirable sustenance! His stomach growled, and though the woman had urged him to eat whatever he liked, nothing was of interest to him there that would not take a bit of preparation, and he'd not want to dirty a sink full of dishes just to feed himself. He and the other young man had finished off all of the cheeses, and dried meats. There was but a loaf of stale French bread and a pot of mustard left in the basket, minus a few sweets that he knew were Elizabeth's favorites, so he shan't be eating those!

He paced a bit more. He'd the money in his pocket that Stephan had given him before they'd left Chauesser, and indeed, he'd been told to use it if there was a suitable need… He paced back and forth in front of the fire. He glanced once more at the clock, and then down the silent hall. He went to the window. He could see to the street just one block away, there were people moving about, and he thought he'd seen men with shovels not far in front of what he was certain now was a carriage.

Closing his eyes, he sighed, pausing for a moment to think. Then, he inhaled, a resolved look on his face. He went to the hall retrieving his boots and cloak. He'd take what funds he had and go out to find them a proper lunch. Even Stephan would not disapprove under the circumstances he thought to himself.

Donning his cloak and boots, he made his way to the door. A note had been left on the table just outside of his room. Truly he would not be gone long, but he'd no want for them to worry. Every other time he'd traveled from this place, he'd used the service entrance, save of course, when they'd first arrived. Today he would go out into the City from this more proper entrance, it seemed just the thing to do.

XXX

"They'll be coming soon, I can feel it in my bones." Said the man as he lifted his head from saying grace over his lunch. "The foal grows stronger every day, and Monsieur Courtland will be very pleased indeed when he gets a look at 'em." He lifted his bread pulling off a large piece dunking it into his soup.

The woman was nodding her head. She was growing rather stir crazy with just this man for company. Though he was suitable for the services he'd been charged with, he was rather dim-witted; his conversations lacked any hint of real interest. She wondered what adventures the other staff were having at the winter house. Surely they'd be returning soon, if not for good, at least for the seasonal things that one would want when Spring truly arrived. They'd never spent a Spring at the Winter house, so she was not at all certain what precisely would be needed. The weather seemed to grow warmer with each passing hour. What had been a mere few drops a minute from the icicles hanging from the roof, now nearly sounded like rain it ran so hard.

"The mud will be thick and difficult along the way. If they'll not depart in the next day, I'm quite afraid that sleigh they have won't be of much use to them." She shook her head. "There was a reason for such order in the household, a reason the winter house was departed when the snow was still firmly on the ground. Now we'll have quite a mess of things until everything is resettled once again. It will make many trips on lone horses, for surely the mud and melt after such a storm will make using a carriage nearly impossible for some days to come!"

She sighed, suddenly she'd lost her appetite. "If you'll pardon me sir, I've several tasks to tend to; I've items on the line outside. Thank heaven's there's a breeze, or nothing would be drying!" She nodded her head and got up from the table, walking out the door.

There was little else to do these days. Everything imaginable had been cleaned, washed, pressed, or polished. She'd ground flour, she'd darned socks, she'd done every stitch of mending she could find in the house. She'd even cleaned out the closets, dusting and rearranging them. Now, she'd nothing to do but wait. She could read, and she had a little every day, but her old eyes grew rather weary, the spectacles she had were no longer useful when her eyes grew tired. Yes, waiting….waiting and wondering, though she prayed it would not be long now. Whenever they arrived, she would be most thankful for the company. The house was readied, now all that was needed was the family that made it a home.

XXX

Andre had taken leave of his meeting with Lady C. She was her usual self, working right until the lunch hour, reviewing with him every detail of the events she had planned for the Spring gala. She wanted there to be no mistakes this year, and no underestimating the number of children. She'd instructed him to check with each church, making certain no new families had moved into the City without her knowledge, nor babies born in recent weeks. She wanted to be absolutely certain that there was a gift for every child, no matter the age. Last year she'd had to send Andre off with a shopkeeper in haste to make up a little basket of goods for a new family that had arrived just days before. She'd not want the embarrassment again if it could be helped.

Each of the girls who were turning sixteen were going to receive a simple strand of pearls, nine in all this year. It had been a long tradition in the City, one she hoped she'd be able to continue for a great many years. She delighted so at the pleasure the girls took in receiving them, it had almost become a formal right of passage amongst them, as if they were now ready to be suited. For certainly any girl who wore the strand of pearls was of age to be wed, or at the very least betrothed.

Each young man turning the age of eighteen was given opportunity to have his first year of books paid for if he were attending university. Or, if he were planning to stay in the City and apprentice himself to some trade, he was given a proper monetary equivalent such as tools or texts on his chosen work.

To the couples who were married in the last year, a cradle, to welcome the eventual arrival of children into the world, when the time arrived.

For those who had built a home within the last year, several fruit trees to grace their gardens.

There were so many details to double-check, she'd not want to miss a single thing. This year had taken on a sudden significance, she could feel it. Perhaps it was the passing of Victoria…perhaps it was the selfless heroics of the newest citizen, whatever it was, there was an aura of mystery in the air, and it made her tingle with anticipation.

She'd shrugged off comment over the years about the money she spent on such things each year. She'd no other family, no children of her own to leave a large inheritance, and she knew, if she lived to be one hundred and fifty, and did this and more every year, she still shan't be able to spend all of the money that was left her, nor all of the money the investments and business her father had left behind still earned. Yes, she could have lived a rather ostentatious life with all of its grandeur for the remainder of her days, galivanting about to this country and that, having lovers here and there. But, she'd given her heart away years ago, and though she was bound by no marriage vows, she'd been faithful to him none-the-less. She was content to live her life, knowing she'd brought some good, some happiness, to a place that had once held her every hope and dream.

XXXX

Meg sat quietly by Raoul. Her mother had brought her meal, the tray lay off on the small table, but she'd not touched more than a few bites of it, she'd had no appetite to speak of. She wished for Raoul to wake, for him to reassure her that all would be well, just as he had so many times before when she was the one convalescing.

Meg had nearly caused a sore on her finger twisting and turning at the ring Raoul had given her. She'd looked down at is so many times, recalling when he'd given it to her. To her he had seemed invincible then. Now he seemed as fallible as the rest of the world.

She found her mind wandering back to Christine's cloak. It frightened her, but as the morning had worn on to early afternoon, and no great stir from the floors below was heard, the more her tensions eased. For if the Phantom had been found, and the girl returned to the Opera House, surely there would have been celebrating in the streets of Paris. But all seemed normal…quiet.

Meg sighed. What pained her to her core now, was that which she did not know. Raoul's hasty trip into the City, of his own volition in search of her, was flattering to be sure. But, where he had been before he'd arrived so oddly in her room, she did not know, and it frightened her. She'd run through the scenarios in her mind, trying to estimate how it had all played out. As nearly as she could estimate from the fragmented conversations between the doctor and DeChagny, Raoul would had to have arrived at the Opera House before Midnight. Yet, if he had done so, surely he would have found Madame Giry, Nadir, and herself in conversation over coffee and cake. But, if he'd traveled elsewhere first…trailed someone…or worse yet, ventured to the caverns below….she could not bear to think of such things. No, something had happened in those hours, something terrible that had caused Raoul to tear at his stitches, leaving him nearly at death's door for the loss of blood.

She was wringing her hands, unknowingly she'd knotted her dress into them as she'd come to sit in the small chair next to Raoul. She slowly inhaled, she could feel herself starting to breath rapidly. She'd have to learn how to contain this emotion, or it would get the best of her. She sat breathing in and out slowly, silently.

There was a faint knock at the door. Meg's eyes opened. Surely it was not her mother, nor Nadir, or Raoul's father, for they'd have let themselves in. Her pulse began to race. Surely Christine nor Erik would have, no…she couldn't think that way. They'd never be that foolish. Perhaps it was yet another messenger come to deliver some news.

She stood, glancing down at Raoul, and walked quietly over to the door. She opened it just slightly, looking out in curiosity. There before her stood a man she'd thought to maybe have seen a few times in her youth, yet he looked far too clean-shaven, too proper, to be who she thought. It was not until he bid her let him in that she knew for sure….it was the propsmaster, and he'd had something to share with her before the others returned.

XXXX

Erphan thought himself to be quite smart as he returned with a proper and hearty lunch. Two roasted chicken, popovers, potatoes augratin, a medley of green and waxed beans, a peach pie, plate of candied stemmed cherries dipped in chocolate, and several liters of fresh milk. It was likely to be their last meal there before returning to Chauesser, and he knew that the Monsieur would not be wanting to stop along the way for supper, for he was never one to dwaddle. He'd several large baskets, and though he was a young man, carrying them that far, heavily laden as they were, gave him an entirely new appreciation for the women he oft saw carrying baskets about. It was not as easy a task as one might think.

He'd rounded the corner, placing one of the baskets down in front of the door, rearranging the items in his arms, when a fluttering caught his eye. Had it not been the odd color, and the intrigue of what would be posted in such an obscure location, he'd have paid it no mind. But, he was the curious sort…perhaps it would be something of interest to the seamstress seeing as it had been posted not far from her shop.

He sat the items on top of the baskets, and wandered over to the paper, grasping it with his hand. His eyes quickly ascertaining that it was old, for it was weather-worn and faded. Perhaps it had just come loose from its hold. He began to scan it, yes, it was indeed old, months old now, it spoke of the great Opera House fire. He read part way down, through the details he'd already known. He'd take it with him, the lunch was even now cooling in the basket. As he removed it from the nails he looked closely at the picture, now well faded. His breath caught in his throat…it looked just like….he blinked several times…surely his eyes deceived him….no….he looked again…it looked very much like….he swallowed hard, looking around to see if anyone was watching as he folded the document and put it into his breast pocket, making his way rather hurriedly toward the door.

His pulse was racing as if he were hiding some great secret and he had to hide lest someone see him and he expose that which remained hidden. Once inside the door, he leaned his back against it heavily. He'd have to regain his composure before he ventured far, for if anyone stirred, he doubted he'd be able to contain the horror in his eyes. He shook his head as he made his way to the kitchen. Certainly there was some explanation; it simply could not be one in the same woman. There were many people who looked like one another; perhaps this was the case with Elizabeth. He'd talk discretely of it to the Monsieur when he woke. For now, he'd set about serving lunch.

Erphan brought the meal he'd fetched to the kitchen. He'd put portions on individual trays and deliver them. Certainly they may not be as hot as he would have liked, but they'd suffice. He was thankful the woman had a number of trays, no doubt she used them for entertaining the men and women that she sewed for when they waited. Just now it served his purposes well, for he'd need one for the woman, one for Stephan and Elizabeth, one for himself, and one for JP.

As he divided the food his heart was pounding, surely what he had in his breast pocket was merely coincidence. Surely they'd not have ventured back into Paris if it were true…and surely they'd be in hiding as far from the City as one could have found. And his master…a monster? He could not imagine it…it simply had to be a rather morbid coincidence and nothing more. He closed his eyes, though it was her very likeness, from what he could tell. Indeed, that would explain the long absences of the master of the house, and the arrival with the new and comely bride. But no, he shook his head, she seemed to love him dearly, seemed to be there very much out of choice, and certainly she'd have run when he'd been unconscious those months.

No, he'd not think of it, though now, more than ever, he wanted to have the City of Paris behind them, lest someone who did not share in his loyalties find them, and part them all, for making the same error of her identity that he had.

Having finished serving to the plates, he lifted the first tray. He'd bring it to the woman, gently waking her. She'd need to have something to warm her and something beyond the bits of dried fish she'd eaten last. Next the tray would be delivered to JP, and his own. Last, he sighed, last would be to Elizabeth and Stephan….he'd want just a moment alone with the Monsieur if he could find someway, for he had something beyond the meal to give to him.

XXXX

"But sir, we've no need to know, he's paid his bill in full, the lady was laid to rest today. He's taken care of not one but two funerals sir, at far more than our customary rate."

The young man was pacing back and forth. He'd often thought ill of this man to whom he was apprenticed, but he'd only had one year remaining before he'd be able to open a parlor of his own, or even take over the present one when the man retired. But today…the disagreement had nothing to do with the profession itself, yet his actions could have everything to do with his future there. He stood biting his lip looking away from the undertaker.

"You seem to be misunderstanding my words young man. I'm not merely asking you, I assure you." The undertaker stood staring at the young man though his back were turned. Surely he himself would be viewed with suspicion for poking around, but this young man…he was trusted and respected, as much as the apprentice to an undertaker would be. No…this young man would be able to wheedle the information he sought.

He straightened his back, leveling his brow. He was not being meddlesome. Quite the opposite. He viewed this as his civic duty. If there was a killer in their midst, even if disguised as a nobleman, the City of Chauesser had right to know of it! There had been great stories of all sorts of strange killing in Paris, in London…. No, it was his civic duty to be sure. And, if in all of this, if the man turned out to be of ill repute, then, the City of Chauesser would be indebted to him for pursuing it. If it turned out that this new man was indeed the bloodline of a noble brow, then he would rest in the knowledge that at least he had been the one to check, looking out for the welfare of the living citizens of Chauesser as well as the dead.

"Young man, I'm asking you to do nothing more than deliver this brief note, to tell the man that his accounts are clear, and thank him for his generosity. And…." He smiled nefariously, if you should happen to run upon that young woman…Misty was her name I believe, perhaps she will offer you some tea and the two of you could chat. Does that seem unpleasant to you in some way?" The undertaker continued to stare at the back of the young man, his head now hung.

"If that were your only intentions sir, I'd do it willingly, of that you can be sure. It is why you have me going there….it has nothing to do with my training. Are we not to respect the families of the dead?" The young man looked over his shoulder, certain that no matter what response he gave other than in the affirmative, he would be castigated for it.

The undertaker laughed, walking toward the young man, putting his hand on his shoulder. "Why yes, you are most correct….and in fact, that is what we would be doing. Do you not think that the families of these women found dead, this man the last to be with them, have a right to know with whom their loved one was crossed over from this world to the next? There is something far too odd about all of it. The circumstances, the timing, all leads me to only one conclusion, that he had something directly to do with their deaths, if they were not indeed caused from his own hand. Why else would he refuse the honor, the title hero…unless he had a guilty conscience?"

The undertaker had spun the young man around on his heels to look him in the eye. "Now, you may have the night, and the next day if you must, to prepare yourself for the task, but make no mistake, you will deliver this note, and have conversation with the young woman…." He paused, waiting for the young man to look up at him. "Is that understood?" He glared at him, the unspoken implication was clear, if he did not agree, it would cost him all of the work that he had completed in service there.

The young man was seething. Had he known that this man would be so dreadful, he'd have never agreed to be apprenticed here. Undertakers were a different breed of people, they had to be, but this one, he seemed to be less than human in his respect for the citizens he served. He fully understood with what great distain people looked down on this man, for now he himself felt the same and worse. "On the morrow then," was all he said. He'd neither given the man an affirmation nor a declination to his request. He collected his cloak and walked to the door. He so wanted to give the man a verbal lashing, and perhaps one day he would, but today…was not the day.

XXXX

Erphan lifted the first tray, his intent was to take it to the woman, but his mind bid him otherwise. His best hope to distract Elizabeth, allowing him opportunity to speak with Stephan, was in asking for her assistance. He walked down toward their room, intent on retrieving her. "Madame? Lady Elizabeth?" There was no response. He swallowed, his plan would only work if her were able to rouse her without having to enter the room they occupied. "Madame?"

Christine rose from the bed. She slipped on her robe, glancing back at Erik. He was staring at her through sleepy eyes. He lifted his head as if to speak. She put her finger to her lips indicating he should rest. Making her way to the doorway she parted the curtain just enough to peer out.

"Erphan? Is everything alright?" She looked down at the tray in his hand curiously, she'd not smelled scents of any cooking.

"Lady Elizabeth, I am sorry to disturb you. I am a bit perplexed. You see I'd gone out into the City to retrieve us a proper lunch…" his eyes were unconsciously wandering the woman's face, the resemblance to the picture was unnerving. He continued, "The lady slumbers, though I know she is in desperate need of a good meal. I am at a loss. I do not know how I might find her, and since she is without site, I fear that I might come upon her in less than proper attire and embarrass the both of us." He bit his lip nervously as Elizabeth's eyes searched his. "I know this is an imposition dear Lady, but would you be willing to take this into her chamber?" He nodded toward the tray.

Christine looked down at it, and then back up at Erphan, it was a reasonable request. She smiled, "I understand Erphan," she glanced over her shoulder at Erik. "I shall be back in but a moment my love." She turned back to Erphan, slipping from behind the curtains out into the corridor next to him, taking the tray from his hands.

The pair walked side-by-side down the hallway. "I shall retrieve a tray for you and the Monsieur, if it meets with your approval might I take it in to him while you deliver this tray?" Erphan looked at her hopeful that the quivering of his lips did not betray him.

Christine looked up and smiled. "That would be wonderful Erphan. I've given Stephan some tea, but I do think it would do well for him to have a more proper meal. He is awake, though groggy, do not expect him to be a conversationalist at the present, he is not feeling at all well." Christine smiled at Erphan as he left the hall into the kitchen. She'd continue on to the workshop where she'd seen the cot in the corner. Certainly the woman would be resting now, and being a woman herself, it would not be at all awkward to be awoken in one's bedclothes. She smiled; it had been very courteous and resourceful of Erphan to ask Christine to help.

Erphan was nearly tripping he'd grabbed onto the tray as quickly as he could, taking it down the corridor toward the room where his master lay. He'd have, he estimated, no more than a minute, perhaps two before Elizabeth would return, and he hoped that he would find the man awake lest he have to waste precious seconds trying to rouse him. He came to the room; he'd no time to acknowledge the proper formalities of entering one's chambers, he simply pushed the curtain aside, looking once more over his shoulder down the long corridor before he turned to see Erik half-risen on the divan.

"Young man, do you not understand the….." Erik went silent at the pleading and terrified look in Erphan's eyes as he sat the tray down in front of him on the table.

Erphan was trembling, nodding at Erik as he moved quickly over to Erik's side, kneeling down next to him. The closeness was a bit unnerving to Erik, but from the look on the young man's face, he'd no doubt there was something urgent that caused this most unusual behavior.

"Monsieur, I've but a moment until your wife returns. I will be brief. I went out into the City to retrieve a meal, and I happened upon this," his hands were trembling as he slipped his right hand into his pocket retrieving the carefully folded paper, handing it to Stephan.

"What is this?" Erik began to slowly unfold it. Erphan looked as though he would faint, his face having gone white. "Young man, sit down, you look as though you've seen a ghost, whatever could give you such…" Erik's eyes grew wide, and though later he would wish he could have concealed his reaction, the surprise and acknowledgement registered on his face, only confirming for Erphan, he was certain, that there was good cause to worry.

Erik pulled his fevered body upright. He had to think about this rationally. They were safe, no one had any reason to believe that they were there. He looked up at Erphan. His mind wild with fever, but knowing the young man could not easily be fooled. "Where did you get this young man?"

Erphan released the breath he was holding. "Outside on the post Monsieur." He looked at Stephan with curious eyes.

"And you think this is relevant to us?" Erik was pushing himself up further to a seated position, putting his legs over the side of the divan.

Erphan looked down at the floor, he really did not know what he thought, he only knew that it caused a great fear to rise in him. He looked at Stephan. "I know only sir, that if I made the error looking at your wife, then others might as well." He paused, "Sir, I know how you guard your privacy, and hate intrusions of any sort. If someone were to see your wife and mistake her for this woman," he nodded his head toward the paper Erik held in his hand, "there could be a great uproar in the City, much to your dismay sir." Erphan exhaled, he supposed that is what he feared most. The intrusion, the attention and trouble that it would cause all of them. He'd no doubt they wold be detained, pictures posted in the newspapers, and perhaps a week or more spent in judges chambers trying to convince a City desperate to have the mystery solved, that she was not the woman they sought, but rather the wife of Monsieur Courtland of Chauesser.

Erik stared at him. It was as if he could read the boys thoughts. "I understand." He looked down at the paper, folding it once more, handing it back to Erphan. "It is just as well we should be heading back to Chauesser. I'd only told the household we'd be gone a day, and already it has stretched into two." Erik was rising, a bit unsteady.

Erphan put his hand on Stephan's shoulder. "Sir, if you'd permit me to be so bold, I think it best now that we wait until the sky darkens again to travel. Perhaps after the sun sets, there would be less question. The streets are brimming and busy." He looked over his shoulder at the door, thankful that they'd had more than the few seconds to talk. "We will have need now to borrow the woman's carriage, if she will permit it. The City has been busily clearing the remainder of the snow from the streets, a sleigh will not make its way through."

Erik scratched at his chin. He felt dizzy and the chills had begun to set in again. He pulled the covers back around him. He sighed. "A carriage will never do when we leave the City Erphan, for surely the paths are still covered in snow there." He looked down, then back up at Erphan. "When you've finished your lunch, take the other young man, and go out for a walk on the streets behind the shop. There is a good chance, that because they are so infrequently traveled, that they'd have yet to clear them. We could depart the city from that vantage point, and though we would have to travel out and around the City, making our travels much longer, we might still be able to make use of the sleigh."

Erphan looked up at Stephan then toward the door once more. "That is a most wise thought Monsieur. And monsieur, no matter what the truth behind this," he patted his breast pocket where he'd redeposited the paper, "I want you to know that it is with you and your wife that my loyalties lay."

Erik swallowed hard. Perhaps his gut instinct of this boy had proven to be correct. He was far more than his unpolished exterior would have appeared. He nodded to him.

Erphan stood moving toward the door, "I shall see to your request straight away Monsieur," he said pushing open the curtain, nearly toppling Elizabeth with his hand. "Madame, I am terribly sorry, are you hurt?" Erphan was flustered, not knowing how long she had been there, he'd never heard even one step toward the room.

Christine laughed a little, "startled but fine sir. The woman bid me to thank you for the fine lunch sir, and said that if your friend is not awake, that you may dine with her if you like." Christine smiled at him, going over to sit on the divan next to Erik. She looked back and forth between the two men, having the distinct feeling she'd missed something.

"Thank you Madame, Monsieur," he said, bowing slightly at the waist as he left the room, the last glance between he and Stephan assured him that he would take care of everything.

Christine turned her attentions to Erik. "Now my husband, you've started to shiver again, you should lay down," she gently put her hand on Erik's shoulder to lean him back, but he resisted.

"No Christine, we've need to eat. I am hungry, and you most certainly have need for a bit more of a meal have you not?" Erik lied to Christine, he was far from hungry. It was both the fever, and the thought that Erphan somehow knew, that soured his appetite, but he would eat lest Christine not, and he worried for her, and for his children.

He smiled at her, "let us have this meal together my dear. Erphan thought enough of us to go out searching for it, the least we can do to repay him is to enjoy it." He lifted the first dome for Christine, a small bit of steam rising from it. It would not be long and it would be cold if they did not eat.

Christine smiled, perhaps a bit of chicken would do her well, though her eye, was as always these days, on the pie and chocolate covered cherries.

Erik cleared his throat, looking at Christine. "Not today my love, you'll be starting with the chicken."

That caused both of them to laugh, he knew what she wanted…and also what she needed. It was his turn to be the dutiful husband, just as she had been the dutiful wife.


	193. Love At First Sight

Chapter 193 Love At First Sight 

Raoul thought himself to be dreaming. He could hear voices. Low voices, whispering. His mind was awake but his body would not do his bidding. Damned the infernal morphine. He longed to open his eyes, but try though he might, they remained as still as if certain death had paid its call. One voice, he was most certain was Meg's. He exhaled slightly in relief. If it were her voice, and not a dream, then the man had kept his promise and delivered him to the dormitories. The other voice, he strained to listen, though he could not focus well, he was certain was that of the propsmaster! Why would he have come, and why would he be speaking to Meg? His mind lumbered through his muddled confusion, though it felt like it was racing; liken to a horse cantering thinking itself to be in full gallop. He wanted so badly to speak, but it was as if he was screaming under water, and no one could hear him. For the first time in his life he understood the words…silent scream.

He sighed, a defeated sigh, as he heard the door close and latch, the man was gone. He listened as Meg whimpered, and began to cry softly. What had that man told her that stirred in her such grief, such fear? How he longed to reach out and offer her comfort, but alas he could not.

Raoul's thoughts turned to the time he'd spent with the man on their way to the surface. He could scarcely recall the trip itself, let alone what conversation had occupied them all the while; though he knew they'd spoken as they made the arduous journey from the lower floors. They'd stopped to rest several times, Raoul feeling week. The last he could recall with any clarity, was feeling arms scooping him up and flinging him over a shoulder, a man groaning heavily. He'd never seen the main level of the Opera House, nor anything more since then. He'd been in blackness for hours, and it felt as though he were destined to wander there for all eternity.

He listened as Meg cried mournfully. He could tell by her tone, that she was trying to stifle it, no doubt for his sake. Raoul really had no idea how long he laid and listed to the woeful tears before the room fell silent. He knew she was still there, though he could neither lift his head to look, nor open his eyes to see. All he could do is wait…patiently.

As time seemed to pass, and Raoul heard little if anything in the room, save the few shuddered breaths that Meg emitted. He considered heavily allowing his mind to go where his body was begging him. He'd sleep. It was what his body craved desperately, though his mind had refused to let him give in. It had nearly seemed an effort in futility, but he wanted to be there for Meg, no matter that she would not know it.

He lay a bit longer still, and then, redemption came. He felt Meg's hand on his forehead, her other on his shirt as she silently ran her hand along his collarbone. He relished her touch. It was the wanton touch of a woman that loved him, not of one who feared his closeness, nor had thoughts of another. Raoul's pulse quickened. If he could have at that moment risen, taken her into his arms in an embrace, he was certain that he would have asked her to be his wife. Oh how he ached now with the thought that he had tried to please everyone else, worry for everyone else, his father, for polite society. They loved one another, it was as obvious in her touch as it was in his heart. If only he could swim through this fog and find her, embrace her…he loved her.

Raoul was a man, and he loved this woman…this woman who was Meg. Oh how he hated this drug that took over the will of his mind and body. Surely there had to be some other concoction that the doctor could give him! After all, did he not understand what it did to Raoul? Nearly incapacitating him? When first he had opportunity, he would ask the doctor of it. Having no ability now to converse, he would relish the moments of her touch. What came next, Raoul would remember forever, though he would vehemently deny ever hearing it, for it would change his world, forever.

XXXXXX

The doctor had spent the entire day putting his house back in order. Yes, the neighbor, even through the storm, had dutifully come and built a small fire in the hearth each day to keep the contents of his house from falling prey to frost and the like. He'd have to remember to give them a gift of thanks. Yes, truly, he did give them whatever medical cares he could free of charge, but save the two babies he'd delivered for them, he'd not really done much in reciprocity, as they were a healthy lot.

He stretched out in front of the fire for his afternoon tea. He'd rest from his toils, read a bit, and have an early supper and then off to bed. On the morrow he'd be paying a call to Courtland Manor to check his patients. See how they had faired. Having arrived home and not finding any posts or notes, he assumed all was well there, or certainly Stephan would have sent for him, even at his sister's. Yes, it would be a relaxing evening, followed by a busy day, but he always liked those sorts of days.

As he rested in front of the fire, he thought of his sister, and his niece and nephew. They were wonderful budding new lives, so full of hope and promise. It was the part of his profession he enjoyed most…bringing life into the world. One day he too would have a family to return to, for now, he'd be content with a good book, and frequent visits to all of the children he'd delivered in recent months, and the parents of those who were yet to arrive.

XXXXXX

Sebastian and Pyotr emerged from their room, there destination was the mercantile, quite precisely the humidor. Rumor in the dining room at the inn was that several sleighs had arrived from Paris, carrying on them much needed supplies and coveted luxuries. The shelves would no doubt be stripped bare as soon as the shopkeeper could put the items on display. The mud that would come now, would be as debilitating to the deliveries from Paris as the snow had been, and it could be a week or more before another delivery would be made. Yes, there would be a swirling frenzy once the shop reopened after the afternoon tea, and they'd every intentions of taking full advantage of it.

There was a mere several weeks now before the celebration, and they wanted to be fully prepared for when it did. That would be the last they would travel to that house until it was abandoned for the summer. But what they had there now…that was being waited upon impatiently by the buyers.

XXXXXXXX

Nicole's mother smiled to herself as she closed her eyes. It was at the doctor's behest that she take a nap. He and Nicole would see to the dishes after lunch. She'd nearly fallen asleep when she heard Nicole open the pantry door to hang the dishcloths up to dry. She prayed that perhaps the time that Nicole and the doctor spent together would produce more than a friendship. A melancholy washed over her as she realized that perhaps it was in her death that she may have provided Nicole with the one thing she had deprived her of while she lived, an opportunity for a proper suitor. For there was little doubt in her mind that they would be spending a good deal of time with one another in the coming months, and there was little else that made the heart grow fond than spending time together.

XXXX

Nicole sat down on the divan in front of the fire, the doctor on the chair. They both stared into the fire, knowing what they talked about next could be overheard by her mother, so they would choose their words carefully.

Nicole smiled at him, glancing over his shoulder toward her mother's bedchamber. He nodded, it was understood. "Thank you…thank you for coming with us today." She said hesitantly, and then continued. "Thank you for being a support to my mother," she paused, smiling yet again, "and to me."

The doctor reached out taking Nicole's hand, squeezing it for just a moment, and then resting it back in her lap as he came to sit next to her. "Nicole, we have an arrangement do we not? I shall be there for you and your mother whenever you are in need of me."

His smile was a bit unnerving. Nicole felt her breath catch, and then chastised herself immediately. She needed to remind herself that this was an arrangement of convenience, and his friendly manner was part of the support he'd vowed to provide, nothing more. She looked up into his eyes for a brief moment before she looked away. Though if she let her imagination run away with her, she would have sworn she saw something more in his eyes.

She had a flash, for an instant she recalled so many years ago, a young woman all of sixteen standing in the rain under a shelter in the park, shivering cold. He had put his arms around her, it was then that she'd first seen him. He'd helped her under the shelter, offering to share his dry cloak. He'd been waiting there to meet his older brother who was just arriving by carriage from the University. He'd seen her from afar, running, which would have been considered very un-lady like in those days. She was trying to get in before the rains began, but alas she had been too late. He'd bid her join him under the shelter, it was just a shower, for the skies were blue about the edges, and the rain would quickly pass. She'd dodged under the awning and had been standing there shivering. It had been so natural…it all seemed so natural…

He'd leaned over and put his cloak around her. The warmth of his body immediately had comforted her. They stood in silence just watching the rain until the sun peeked through the clouds. She'd turned to look up at him, a sudden awareness that she'd been beneath the cloak of a young man who was an utter stranger, though she'd felt like she'd known him the entirety of her life. It was that very moment that pierced through her memory all these years later. He'd looked down at her and said the words that had nearly caused her heart to stop beating beneath her flesh.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?"

She smiled at the memory, though it was more bitter than sweet now. They'd been nearly inseparable for the next year. As spring came that year he'd asked for her hand in marriage, though not formally through letter of engagement, but they were very much in love. Then her grandmother had fallen ill, and she'd had to leave… She felt a great lump rising in her throat, and a hand on hers.

"Where did you travel off to just now Nicole?"

She looked up to see the doctor smiling compassionately at her. She shook her head, "I'm sorry, a memory. I'm dreadfully afraid that this will be an often occurrence these next days." She smiled coyly. "A memory from a long time ago." She was certain she'd need say no more. Under the circumstances, he'd likely assume that it was a memory of her grandmother.

The doctor nodded his head. "You looked so happy for a moment Nicole." He smiled at her, flashing his perfectly straight teeth, the blueness of his eyes twinkling in the light of the fire. "It was nice to see you smile," he ran his hand over hers, "you've a lovely smile".

What caused Nicole to swoon was the intensity of his gaze, though his words did nothing to dissuade her earlier thoughts. She was always the first to look away from their glances. "Yes, a happy one." She said looking down at her hands, his resting over them. She thought to herself….do you believe in love at first sight….though she'd not the courage to say it.

XXXXXXXXX

"Very well my Lady." Andre said as he pulled the doors closed to the music room. He'd not time for another trip into Chauesser himself this afternoon. He'd all of the letters to write to the purveyors, the final lists to make. He'd fully prepared to travel into Chauesser on the morrow, but this afternoon, no, it just would not be possible. He was relieved that she'd agreed to allow him to write a note and send it on with one of the men from the stable.

He walked down the hallway to his own quarters, going in he closed the door. He removed his waistcoat hanging it on the hook by the door. He began rolling up his sleeves. With much writing to do, he'd not be taking chances of inking up his best shirt.

He'd never seen her so very insistent on paying a visit, but her logic was sound. She'd need to know a few things lest this new family not be treated with the same courtesies that all the other families of Chauesser had been. She preferred direct conversation with a family such as this, she'd not known if they'd an affiliation with any church, and she'd not rely on what gossip might tell her of the family. No, a personal visit was always preferred in situations such as this, and in truth, she was intrigued, curious, about the man. She could only imagine what he looked like, and she had want to see if her mental picture suited the truth.

If they were newlyweds she'd a cradle to purchase. Furthermore she wanted to know if they'd accept several fruit trees for their garden. Truly they'd not just built the house, but it felt as though it was a house newly occupied by the family, it having sat nearly vacant for as long as she could recall. Yes, those were valid questions indeed. But truly, he thought it to be her impatience gotten the best of her. She'd hoped to have received some reply by now, though Andre had warned her it may be days. She was an impatient sort when it came to her curiosity. She wanted a reply before the sun set. She very much wanted to meet this man and his young wife, and she would do so on the morrow unless they directly declined.

As he settled at his desk, the maid brought in some tea and a plate of the lunch he'd missed. He thanked her kindly and then asked her if she would be so kind as to summon the carriage driver, that he'd an errand for him. He'd pen his note before tending to his appetite.

Dear Monsieur Courtland,

Lady C would like very much to have a brief audience with you on the morrow. You may not be aware, but there is a rather large celebration that is just weeks off now. It would bring her much pleasure to include you and your wife, as well as your household in the festivities. If this note finds you to be unable to accept such a visit, please send reply with this messenger.

In sincerest regards, Andre

He quickly blotted it dry, tucked it in an envelope, sealing it with wax. The wax was barely set when the man came to the door to retrieve it.

"Now dear sir," Andre said as he handed the man the envelope, "this is to be delivered to the large white house on the other side of Chauesser, you know the place, the one where the family has just occupied," Andre paused, the man was nodding, he knew the house of which he spoke. "It must be opened by the household if the man is not there. If he is not there, ask when they will arrive, and wait for a reply before returning. Have you any questions?" The man shook his head no. "Then very well, be off. Do not tarry any longer than you have need to, Lady C will await the reply before she retires this evening."

The man nodded and departed. Andre turned around, placing a check mark on his list, that task was accomplished, now on to the other twenty or so he'd need to finish before night fell.

XXXXX

Erik had managed to coax Christine into eating nearly half of everything on her plate, along with a half-liter of milk. He himself had eaten a few bites of each thing, focusing primarily on the chicken for the saltiness was rather soothing to his throat. He'd no appetite, but he'd eaten in order that Christine would as well, and indeed she had.

He'd really no idea what to tell her, why the abrupt departure, and what it was that had caused him to feel less safe in that place after their hours of unguarded leisure there. Part of him wanted to be completely honest with Christine, and part of him wished he could protect her from it all. If she never knew what Erphan had found, then she would never have to play along, she could continue to behave as she always had, thus making Erphan believe that it was a coincidence that she resembled the girl from Paris. On the other hand, if he did not tell her, and Erphan began asking questions of her, or somehow revealed it to her himself, then it may give her a fright causing her to say or do something she would later regret, or worse, cause her to faint. It was a difficult decision. He looked at her several times, just watching her. She was as beautiful and innocent as he could imagine her, and he'd no wish to disturb her temporary happiness, but alas, he knew that he must.


	194. Confessions

Chapter 194 Confessions 

**Dear faithfuls**: Just a note to let you know that there will not be an update on Thursday of this week…but stay tuned for Friday!

Meg began gently running her hand along the exposed side of Raoul's face, curling the hair from his neck behind his ear, tucking it into place as if she were properly grooming him. His flesh was pink and warm, and as smooth as a stone gently tumbled in the waters of a meandering stream. To the world he was handsome, an extremely coveted suitor, perfect. To her he was all of those things, but something much more. He was her love…her savior…her friend. The pooling guilt of keeping so much from him tainted her happiness like a poison. Oh if she could but tell him…tell him of all the truths which she withheld from him. She sighed. The secrecy was necessary, she knew it, but she felt like a pot on the stove that had slowly boiled, and now the lid had begun to rattle from the pressure beneath it. Oh pray what travesty would lay ahead if she could not find relief from this guilt.

Raoul relished her touch, it was like a gift sent from heaven to relieve the aching of his soul. He wished so that he could respond to her, to let her know he was there for her…that he would be well again…to care for her again. It unnerved him to be this vulnerable, but he'd come to this place by noble means…in defense of the woman he loved. He knew well that all that was needed was time. Time to swim through this drug-induced mire to surface from within this whirlpool fog of morphine until he was once again himself. He would listen to her breathe, cry, whatever he could so that when he awoke he could reassure her that he had indeed been listening. And then it began, the long, one-sided conversation, that would forever change the way Raoul looked at his life.

Meg's hand came to rest over Raoul's. Her staggered breaths had slowed and now she was breathing slow and even. The only evidence that she'd been crying dolefully was her puffy eyes, and the dewiness that still clung to the inner-most rim of her lashes. The burden of all that she'd kept to herself was overwhelming her. There was something to be said for being in such a place, alone, with a man that could neither hear nor respond, it was as if it were perfect for confessions of all sorts, if for no other reason than to ease the strain on her soul. It started as a small conscious thought, and grew as she spoke…and oh how it grew.

"Raoul, Raoul…..my love. If only you'd known how I'd admired you when first you arrived at the Opera House. You were handsome and charming, and took the very air from my lungs such that I thought I might never have ability to breathe again." She paused, the first words seeming to startle even her having said them out loud, and yet, the process was oddly liberating.

She ran her hand along his face and shoulder. "Oh how I thought of the fortunate woman who would one day be suited by such a fine man…such a proper man. I'd heard you had yet to select a wife, that you were looking for something in particular was the rumor".

Meg looked down, ashamed though she knew she'd no need of it now. "I knew that this something, whatever it was, would most certainly not be the likes of a poor chorus girl such as me."

There was a long pause, Meg taking in the reality, nay, irony of the conversation. Her face twisted a bit, she reached up to brush away the dampness in her left eye. "When Christine looked over my shoulder and had first glimpse of you, I could see it in her eyes too. No doubt had I looked around, I'd have seen it in the eyes of every woman in the room that night!" Meg's eyes lit up, nearly as they had that night as she recalled that moment. Then a darkness fell over them again, as she turned back to look at him, running her hand along his arm again. He looked so comfortable, but she knew it was not the comfort of restful slumber that kept him so, but the drug which left him nearly lifeless.

She continued. "Then Christine said the words that sunk, dashed, any hopes that I might have had in my foolish mind…" her eyebrows rose, a resigned look of disappointment crossed her face, "you'd been childhood sweethearts….what more was there for me to know of it? I could see the glimmer in her eye as she looked at you, and no doubt yours would have been the same had you known it was her." Meg sighed. "In that moment I knew jealousy, coveting, and the disappointment of a dream quickly lost, for I knew I shan't ever be able to interfere with the affections of my sister!"

Meg half smiled, though her eyes grew sad. "I watched with envious eyes as Christine beheld you as you walked by us, and then, saw in her face the look of disappointment that I myself felt. Though she had known you all those years, she would now be nothing more than an opera rat, in your eyes, as surely all the other girls were viewed by society. Something in that thought comforted me, though I feel guilty for it now."

Meg seemed to be staring off in the distance as though she could walk through a portal into the past, recapturing it. "Then, as the fates twisted with Carlotta walking off the stage, and Christine taking her place….I knew…somehow, I knew that you would rediscover her. Her voice is as beautiful as any song bird, and yet as haunting as a mourning dove…how could one not love her once he'd heard her sing?"

A tear ran down Meg's cheek as she recalled watching Christine perform that first night. "The large white gown, beautiful and angelic. Her hair dressed with violet scented creams and gossamer curls! The diamond clips had only added to her radiant glow….she was perfect. How could you not notice her? One would have to have been both deaf and blind not to behold the beauty of Christine. She was like a crown jewel newly uncovered, radiant and glowing."

Meg sighed. "I'd never felt so much in her shadow as I had that night Raoul. She was everything that I was not, and though I were proud of her, so very happy for her, I mourned for my own loss, as pathetic as that may seem. What loss? How could one lose what one never had?"

Meg laughed, a sad laugh just once at her own folly. She inhaled deeply, and exhaled slowly. "The next months were rather a blur Raoul. My best friend, nay, my sister, was suddenly consumed by the attention of every other, having little time for our casual conversations at night, our stealing away in the garden in the afternoons during tea to gossip, all the mundane things I'd come to love about our time spent together…now suddenly gone. In truth, I wrestled with my loathing of it all. I wanted my sister back, I longed for life to return to normal, she and I dreaming together in the dark, our beds shoved together concocting in our minds what our suitors would look like, and from whence they would come!"

Meg smiled, running her hand along Raoul's arm. She pulled the covers up under his chin, his flesh seemed chilled to her touch. "Christine had grown so beyond me, and save for the fact that she refused to move to the quarters reserved for the prized soprano, we'd have been separated from one another entirely. And so it went, my life continued on, as hers seemed to flourish. Oh certainly, she'd insisted on certain things, my accompanying her to the masquerade ball, dress shopping, and all of those things, but it was not the same…not the same simple life we had enjoyed before. And I missed it…missed it jealously."

There was a long silence, and Raoul wondered if she were finished. He'd never imagined Meg to have been anything but thrilled for Christine, she'd seemed so supportive of her. In truth her words could not be denied, he'd noticed no one but Christine, and he'd have consumed her every moment if it had been possible. His heart fluttered, if just for a moment, an old flame long extinguished. He had truly loved Christine.

"Raoul, if Christine had ever known, she'd have felt terrible…and I all the more terrible for it. Then when Erik came forward at the Masquerade, snatching the engagement ring from Christine's neck…growling that she belonged to him….oh how ashamed am I for thinking it….but I'd thought he'd come to claim her at last!"

Raoul's mind ached…what had she said? Erik? That beast had a name? And…and…Meg knew him as more than a monster?

Meg sighed. "I'd nearly thought he'd swoop in and snatch her in the night when all were sleeping. After all, he'd be there when darkness covered the earth and the moon was high in the night sky, watching her sleep, as he always had."

Raoul could feel his blood begin to boil. That beast had watched Christine…Meg…while they slept…like a monster laying in wait?

"But when he did not come that night, my heart began to worry for what revenge he would seek. He'd loved her…every day since he'd first laid eyes on her…surely he'd not give up so easily." Meg paused, she listened, rising from her chair she went to the door, peering outside, and then returned, it had been her imagination, or paranoia.

"I knew with near certainty that it would not be over, that he'd simply not disappear, though it seemed he might once mother had rescued you from his dangling lasso. Oh Raoul, would it have been such that she'd not found her way to you…" Meg gasped, running her hand along his back, "I shudder to think of it".

Meg began mindlessly caressing Raoul's back. "Christine was so frightened…so worried as much for you as for anything. She knew of Erik's passion, of his feelings for her, and to what lengths he might go to possess her, yet she could not leave him. That is why she'd pleaded with you to keep your engagement secret…out of fear for your survival."

Meg smiled. "Part of her had loved him all of the days she'd known him. She'd always had a glint her eye as if she'd a secret lover, though I knew it shan't be so, as she was always in our dormitories at night. Whenever I could not find her, I'd walk to the cellars, and down in the chapel, I could hear her singing. I never interfered, I thought she was somehow reaching out to her father, as she prayed there for him often. She would go there dutifully every day in the afternoon when the rest of us would be on recess from our rehearsals. No one disturbed her there."

Meg sighed again, "Christine later confessed to me, it was in that room that she'd fallen in love with him…in love with her angel…and oh how she'd wished that he had flesh…she ached for him to have arms that he could hold her!" Meg's eyebrows rose again, "In the end it seems, her wishes came true".

Raoul felt a sob rising in his chest, though it was merely his imagination. What of these words? Christine had wished for a beast to take flesh…that she could be his? Why had she never spoke of it to him…he sighed…why would she have confessed such a thing to him…her own finance?

"The night of 'Don Juan', I thought I would collapse in fear as the stage was set. I knew she was torn, it was so very hard for her. She'd no want to betray you, nor could she bring her heart to betray him. Christine knew she could not live in both worlds…she knew it, but neither could she bear to think of hurting you, of abandoning a future she'd dreamt of when she was a very young girl, entirely enamored with your charms in the attic at the house by the sea. She'd spoken of it with such fond affection, and how she wanted me to be with her as oft as I could until I'd found a suitor that was worthy of me, and one that was friends with you so that we might all live happily ever after!" Meg laughed out loud. The longer the one-sided conversation went on, the bolder she began to feel, and the more liberal her confessions.

"How very far from those wishes reality would become. It will be as we dreamed as children, she in one kingdom, I in another, both married to kings that swept us away to places far apart." Meg fell silent, as if in deep reflection.

Raoul began to wonder if he was dreaming…imagining…nay….hallucinating all of this. It could not be true…was Meg imagining Christine living like a queen in some distant land, in love, and happily sacrificing, submitting, to a life with that beast? No, surely it was the drug, playing pitiless tricks on his mind!

"If only it had not been so, if all of this had never come to pass, how very happy the lot of us could be. Sara would yet be alive, Christine and I would still be dreaming like children in the dormitories, Erik still creating his music for the plays, guarding and guiding his muse, and you…my dear sweet love, you'd be happily off having married and fathered half a brood by now!" She sighed, "but alas it is not so."

She rubbed his back gently. "Oh Raoul, if it were not so that we all had need to be separated. If only what Nadir and I suspected would be true…oh what then? What happiness could our futures hold? Would there be a way…any way at all that we might happily unite as one family?"

Raoul's mind was spinning out of control. He could neither understand nor put together the pieces of the puzzle that Meg was tossing about. Who would live as a happy family? What did they suspect? Sara was killed by Crawlings when she'd gone to the Winter house of Meg's aunt and uncle…what were these ramblings?

"Oh that it could be that we shan't be separated by distance and circumstance…." Meg looked down at Raoul, wondering. "But what then my love…if you knew Christine to still be alive, would then your heart…your feelings for me diminish? Would all that has passed between us vanish forever, as if it never had existed at all?" Meg's hand instinctively flew to her chest, it was as if she bled from some imaginary self-inflicted wound.

"I'd wish that I could believe that it would not be so, but I fear in my heart that the truth would change your very heart for me. If you thought her to be alive, or if you know her to still be alive, having found her cloak, what of your feelings then? Will a fiancé now resurrected from the certain dead, take the place of the living breathing one whom you've all but become betrothed to now?" Meg could feel the emotion rising in her chest. Why was she rambling on over this?

She rose and walked over to the cloak she'd brought in from the other room, holding it close to her. It was Christine's, and she loved her sister dearly, as dearly as she loved the man that lay sleeping not two meters from her. She slipped the cloak around her shoulders and returned to his side, leaning down to place a delicate kiss on his cheek.

"Raoul, the last time I saw Christine she was wearing this." She smoothed her hand over the cloak. "My mother had given her this on the day of her sixteenth birthday. It was much finer than any she'd owned since she was a little girl, and she was so very happy to have it as winter set in that year." She paused, inhaling, "it still contains her scent."

Raoul wanted to weep for the torture Meg was putting herself through…he had smelled it too! He feared his mind had been lost in this surreal fabrication…oh how he loathed it for what reality it seemed to be spun with. It was certain to be his most elaborate hallucination!

"Raoul, oh how I wished that I could tell you that she is alright, that she is happy, that she is where she belongs, in the arms of her angel, that this is what she truly wanted in her heart of hearts though society, and my mother's urgings nudged her towards you."

Meg rose, removing the cloak, laying it down in her lap. "There will be happiness for both of us, though we will be parted forever, I know in my heart, though I shall miss her as desperately as I am certain she will miss me. We've both such different futures now…both with the mrn we've come to love."

Meg placed another kiss on Raoul's cheek. "I hope only Raoul that would you know any of this that you would forgive me, love me in spite of my shortcomings." Surely you can understand them, for you'd confessed as many to the man who deposited you here. I've so much to tell you when you wake Raoul. That man, oh Raoul, he has want to confirm that what the two of you saw…that there was indeed footprints in the mud leading out of the caverns. Oh Raoul, why do you search for that which is no longer yours? The man has sworn a solemn vow to tell no one else…why had you told him he could share this with me? Does it not make it all the more painful for us both?"

Raoul's insides hurt dreadfully. Was Meg saying that she knew Christine to be alive…knew her to be with that beast….it so very much sounded as if she was confessing as much…but if it were true…why had she not told him….had it been her jealousy? His mind went blank. Had Meg and that monster somehow conspired to keep them apart, each having gotten what they wanted in the end? Could she have been that conniving…that heartless and cruel…to both of them?

Meg's tears were flowing down her cheek, rounding the fullness of her jaw, and venturing down her neck. She inhaled heavily, exhaling as though she'd finally expelled a poison from her lungs that had been threatening her very life. It had been very cathartic, and she'd wish to confess all of it. Of knowing their whereabouts, that Christine was with child, that she thought Erik and he to be brothers, all of it…every last stitch of it. For though she knew he'd not heard a word, she would somehow feel the better for having stated it plainly, even through a hushed whisper, at least she'd said it if for no other benefit but her own.

She resettled herself in the chair, the next would be longer, perhaps more difficult, involving far more than she and Christine, and some of the thoughts she'd not even fully processed yet in her own mind.

She was about to begin when she heard footsteps in the hall. Rising quickly she went to the door to see who it would be, and it was the doctor, satchel in hand. Meg wiped her face and returned to the chair, taking Raoul's hand into hers. She smiled discretely as the doctor entered the room closing the door behind him.

"Meg, has he yet stirred?" He inquired, sitting his bag down on the table opening it to retrieve his instruments.

"No, he's not stirred. I'm quite certain he could sleep for days." Meg looked back and forth from Raoul to the doctor.

"Not for days my dear, and certainly he shan't sleep completely though he is quite drugged." The doctor pushed his spectacles back up his nose as he looked closely at the stitches on the back of Raoul's head. He reached down pressing on them lightly to make certain there was no oozing.

The first few presses, Raoul managed without whimper or complaint. But when the doctor pressed down on the middle, the part where the stitches no doubt had come undone and were yet again re-stitched, he moaned deeply, the pain was indescribable.

"Yes, son, I know, it hurts, but it will get better with time. You are a fortunate young man Raoul, you could have bled to death. We shall speak more of it when you are feeling better." The doctor withdrew a syringe from his kit filling it with a liquid from a brown bottle in his bag. He took it to Raoul's arm and began administering the medicine.

Meg looked away, the site of needles as of late, had taken on an entirely unpleasant meaning for her. She waited until he'd finished before she spoke. "Why do you talk to him as though he can hear you, for most certainly he is asleep as he has been all the while I've sat with him." Meg's heart had begun beating a bit faster since hearing Raoul moan. She was fishing for reassurances from the doctor.

The doctor smiled at Meg. "Surely Meg, you yourself know the affects of the drugs I've given you. Raoul rests, and rests well, but I can assure you, he can hear what I was saying, I could tell by the movement of his eyes beneath his closed lids, and his moaning. Yes he is resting, but sleeping surely not. Perhaps you'd like to read to him, I'm certain he'd enjoy it, and you'd have a way to pass the hours until he rouses. This medicine will do nothing more than see to his staying in one place to let his body heal. Having you here with him, will bring him great comfort."

The doctor put his hand on Meg's shoulder as he stood to leave the room. He glanced over at the tray, looking back down at her. "My dear Meg, you must eat something, you'll wither and wear yourself and be of little company to Raoul when he wakes if you find yourself quite ill."

He took a few steps away, lifting the tray to take it with him. "I'll have a fresh tray sent to you, perhaps a bit different assortment would be preferable, and I'm certain we can find something you'd like." He smiled and closed the door behind him.

Meg slumped back in the chair. Her hand flying to cover her mouth, she thought she would ill. Had Raoul heard all of what she'd said? Would he remember anything she'd said? Why had she been so foolish as to think those things out loud? She though she would faint, grabbing onto the side of Raoul's bed as she felt herself start to race. She grasped it hard, pinching herself, she'd not do it, she'd not give in, she must stay alert, she had to think, there had to be some way….but she knew not.

Raoul had already began to drift further into the fog, until at last there was nothing.

XXX

"What is it Erik?" Christine said as she crawled beneath the blanket nestling him into her arms, guiding his head back until it rested on her collarbone. "It is obvious that something troubles you my love."

Erik wished for more time, more time to decide what to do, what to tell her, but he could not avoid it, there was no way around, only a way through. He turned his head glancing up into the eyes of the woman he loved more than his own flesh, and decided, if he could not share this with her, and she found it another way, she would learn not to trust him…and that was far too great a price to pay. He'd afford her the most protection by telling her the truth.

He turned himself fully so that he could look at her. "Christine, I've something to tell you that may frighten you, but perhaps not, for most you already know." Christine's eyes did not waiver, she nodded in acceptance of the warning. "When Erphan ventured out, to retrieve lunch for us, he happened upon something." He now wished he'd have asked Erphan for the parchment, so that he might show it to her. "Christine, you might have assumed that when we left Paris…left the Opera House…that it would not only have been Raoul that searched for you."

Christine blinked, she'd not heard Erik ever say Raoul's name more than a few times, and the times she had, were in anger. Today, his voice was even-tempered and steady. "Yes, I rather imagined it would have been a wider search." She cocked her head. "Why would we be discussing this, now so much after the fact?"

Erik continued. "It seems that at some juncture, posters were fashioned and posted throughout the City."

Christine still did not understand the significance nor the relevance to their current situation.

Erik took her hands into his, "Christine, the posters had a sketch of you on it…the very likeness of you," Erik swallowed, "that is what Erphan found."

Christine's eyes grew wide…she suddenly felt a bit light headed as though the thin protective walls to their being in Paris were beginning to crumble. "And he…." She could not bear to say it.

Erik slid up slightly until he could look Christine in the eye. "I've told him nothing, though I am most certain he was clever enough to have figured it out on his own." Erik could feel Christine begin to squirm about beneath him.

"Do not worry Christine, though I've told him nothing, he has assured me that his loyalties lay with you and I, though I do think he may be more curious as time goes on. If it is possible my dear, we must act as though such news has not affected us in the slightest. You will continue to answer to no other than Elizabeth, and I none other than Stephan. If it should happen that he addresses you by Christine, and your guard is down and you respond, try not to look anxious or unnerved. Simply say something along the lines, Christine is my middle name, and used frequently by my grandmother as my pet name." Erik focused in her eyes, "can you manage that Christine, if the need should arise?"

She nodded her head. "Oh Erik, how we thought ourselves to be so safe here!"

"Christine, I can assure you we are no less safe than we were before he happened upon the poster. The only danger would be in his believing it to be truth, and doing something with that knowledge."

Erik coughed, feeling a bit worn again, what precious little energy he'd managed to muster for the events that unfolded, now waning. "Erphan gave me his assurances, and we must trust that he is a man of his word."

Christine nodded her head again. "You've no intentions then…intentions of telling him the truth?"

Erik shook his head. "I'll neither lie nor deny if he asks me directly Christine, for if ever he has enough courage to put those thoughts into a question, we will have reason to fear that he would do something that may cause us to have need to flee far from here. I tell you only this, that I believe he is a man of his word, and we shan't need to worry."

He sighed, running his hand along Christine's collarbone, trying both to sooth her and to assure her. "As we speak he and JP are out assessing the snow. It has become obvious that carriages are now starting to roam the streets again, and that means that it will not be long before sleighs are of little use. If we are to depart, and it is still possible to a path out of Paris with sufficient snow, then we shall leave tonight."

Christine began shaking her head, running her hand across Erik's chest. "You are not well enough to endure a long ride in such temperatures all of that way my love. You've still a fever, and that cough, it shall not better itself by such exposure."

Erik smiled, he'd anticipated her protests, and though he had need to override her opinion, it warmed him to think that she cared for him enough to challenge him. "My dear Christine, we've been gone far longer than we'd ever thought to be. Surely our household will be looking for us. Wondering at where we might be. If we do not take this opportunity my love, it may be a week or more before we can leave again, and then by borrowed carriage with hopes that the mud had hardened enough to support the wheels. If we've even one or two spring showers, we could be stuck in Paris indefinitely, and that my dear, is a risk I am unwilling to take. This woman's shop has been quiet for us, but only because of the storm. Most often, this time of the year especially, she is most busy. All the young ladies of society wanting to have fresh new dresses for Spring, swarm in and out of here like locusts. In a day's time, these quiet halls will be brimming with young women. If that were to happen my dear, we'd have no where to venture that was safe."

There was a long silence. Christine knew Erik was right. They could ill afford to be in Paris for another week, though she and Meg would have time to visit, and she and Madame Giry a chance to spend time in one another's company, if Raoul would permit them time away from him. "Very well Erik, though do expect you will need to cooperate fully along the way, permitting for a night's rest if your condition worsens."

Though he liked it very little, he agreed. Once they were in the sleigh, it would be difficult for Christine to make them stop if he ordered them onward. It wasn't as if the trip was that far, a mere five hours during the day, a bit longer in the dark. "Very well Christine. We shall set about making ready for our departure after Erphan returns. I've no doubt he will have found suitable paths from the City that would still remain open to us."

Christine was shaking her head. "You sir, you will rest. I will see to making our things ready. When Erphan returns, we shall talk. In the meanwhile, you shall try to sleep." She slipped out from beneath him.

He groaned as a small child would whose warm blanket was just tugged from him. Christine laughed. "My dear, how very attached you've become. What will you do when there are three others vying for my attention?"

Erik smiled at her, and yawned, covering his mouth, he'd no hope of arguing the point of his need for rest now. "My dear Christine, when that blessed time arrives, I've no doubt that we shall have a rather large bed."

Christine cocked her head off to the side. "A large bed?"

Erik smiled, yawning yet again, as Christine pulled the covers up under his chin, kissing the side of his cheek. "Yes Christine, for I do not think for one moment that I should be able to give up having all of you within my arms length. I can imagine us one large swarm of arms and legs wrestling about like a tangle of puppies," he smiled, "though I will share you jealously for I shall want you to myself all the more."

Christine laughed. "Do not worry dear Erik, I shall be even more your wife when I've delivered your sons and daughters into your arms. Then truly will we share flesh of our flesh, and a family we shall be. And I…I shall love you all the more." She ran her hand along his jaw, placing one last delicate kiss on his lips. "Rest Erik, for we've a long journey ahead of us." She walked to the doorway, glancing over her shoulder, smiling at him, and departed.

Erik's eyes fluttered shut, he was indeed tired. He could stretch out fully on the divan without worry he was hurting, or making her uncomfortable, for all the space was his. He smiled as he conjured up a mental image of he and Christine, with three small children climbing about them on the bed. She nestled into his arms, he reading a book to her, she nursing and cuddling the children, he with one, having just been fed, sleeping on his chest. Oh what a wonderful thought…a sweet thought…that just six months before would never have crossed his wildest imagination. He drifted off to sleep, not even noticing that his fever had broken.


	195. Misconceptions

Chapter 195 Misconceptions 

The propsmaster was out of breath when finally he arrived at his home in the cellar. He closed and latched the door soundly behind him, sighing heavily. It had not been the restful night he'd intended when first he sat on his bed last evening rather satisfied with himself that he'd tidied his abode, set the table, and prepared for the woman's visit. He'd not made it to the barber, the shave that he wore now was one he'd hurriedly done himself, and was not up to standards, not hers leastwise. He was a tired he'd not felt in a good long while, not since the production of 'Don Juan' when he'd burned the midnight oil the long many nights crafting a plethora of props. He had need yet to pay a visit to the market, the kitchens, and try to arrive at the barbers before he closed his door. It wasn't as though he were a regular patron for whom the man would stay open.

He rummaged about a thick wooden box, blackened from age and residue, pulling what funds he'd require before he retired to the table to catch his breath. His head hung heavily in his hands as he rubbed the lids of his eyes. The last hours had been surreal. The evening had started with benign curiosity, and led to so much more than he'd ever have been able to imagine. How could events transpired as they had? He laughed to himself, he'd almost wished it had been an elaborate dream invented in his mind, caused by indigestion, or some other disturbance of his sleep. But it had not…it was all very dreadfully real.

The Vicomte had been strange company, and given any other circumstances, the man doubted he'd have been viewed as anything more than scourge, or dirt under the wheels of his fine carriage. But the precarious balance of social classes was muddled in their meeting. He and the Vicomte shared a secret…one they'd solemnly vowed to share with no one other than the two women in their lives, and then only as little as possible.

DeChagny had not been at all like those he himself had so oft written about. DeChagny was neither snobbish, nor boorish; rather genuine, though at times naïve in the ways of the lower tiers of society. He had little doubt that the Vicomte's perceptions had more to do with ignorance by way of lacking exposure rather than through arrogance or superciliousness. He had to admit to himself, if however hesitantly, that perhaps misconceptions regarding those of another class with whom you share no affiliation, could occur in both directions.

He considered carefully all that had been shared with him by Raoul. The Vicomte had desire to hunt down the beast, putting an end to the conflict, once and for all. The Vicomte told the man he was neither interested in the conquest itself, nor the glory. It wasn't for the pleasure he'd derive seeing the blood of his mortal enemy flowing on the ground, but rather, quite the opposite. The Vicomte longed for one thing alone now, the assurance of enduring peace. Peace provided only in the knowledge, that if the beast was dead, he could no longer threaten their happiness or welfare.

He scratched at the evening shadow a morning shave produced. He'd never had a quarrel with the Phantom. Indeed, he was certain now, more than ever, that it had been that very creature that had pulled him from death's door in the depths of the water. Why he'd been spared, he would likely never know, and especially not if the Vicomte had his way. But what if they failed? What if they did nothing more than stir the beast's anger? Then what terror would he wage on the Opera House? Had they not already paid a dear price for a hard lesson with the fire? There were no easy solutions to this quagmire. He understood the point to which the Vicomte had suggested vanquishing the beast, but he feared for the success of the method. For if they'd not succeed, they'd surely live in fear for the remainder of their days. He could say with sage certainty, that even a City the likes of Paris would not be large enough to hide in.

He shook his head. He could ill afford to spend time pondering that now. He'd a meal to prepare for, and a guest to entertain. He rose, walking over to his dry sink, pouring a bit of water in the basin, splashing it on his face. He donned his cloak, and lifted the walking stick he had leaned against the sham of the door. He doubted he'd need it, but one could never tell what you could run into, especially as the sun still set rather early these first days of spring. This would be his second trip that day to the upper level of the Opera House. Normally he'd not venture there even twice in a week's time. He chuckled to himself, though it were morbidly humorous, he'd not a body slung over his shoulder to slow him down.

The lamp turned down, he walked out closing his door. It screeched as he pulled it tightly closed. He'd have to see to that when he returned. For his own purposes, the sound was a bit comforting for it would wake him out of a dead sleep if anyone tried to enter his dwelling. He imagined however, that it would be a source of irritation or fright to his guest, and he'd already gone to so much trouble to make the visit pleasant. Yes, his first dinner guest…after this number of years spent dining alone, it was long overdue. No matter what method he'd used to coerce the company.

XXXXX

The shopkeeper, his wife and daughter had been busy since the sun rose. The thawing City was beginning to bustle again, and word had no doubt spread that two sleighs of goods had arrived, and were even now being unloaded behind the mercantile. Normally the two hours between when the mercantile closed after lunch, before high tea was served late afternoon, they'd relax a bit and have lunch themselves, but today was an exception. They'd had a few eggs and scones with clotted cream when first they'd woke, and they'd likely not be eating again until the doors closed well after the sun sank on the western horizon. Such was the life of a merchant in such a City he thought.

The shopkeeper was busily unloading the cargo from the sleighs, his wife was carrying in what she could. Their daughter dragged the boxes or crates to where the items were to be placed on shelves. They'd barely had time to get everything inside when already they could see people lining up outside on the front walk. Over the curtains could be seen top hats, and plumes from ladies headpieces. The three worked fervently, knowing that all of their toils would be made swift work of when the doors were opened. It almost seemed sheer folly to put goods on shelves, for they'd be there for but a brief moment. Had they not been such a proud family they may very well have let people dig about in bin and box to save them the trouble. But, they were a proper family, and proudly so. They'd no intentions of letting the storm have influence on the way in which they'd conduct their business.

Chauesser, as with any City so far from Paris, relied on the daily deliveries of goods from the ocean ports and large Cities such as Paris. Nearly every shelf of food stuffs had been stripped clean, and with the winter having just passed, there was precious little remaining in pantries of the summer vegetables and meats that had been canned during autumn. True, they would never starve, for there were farms all around for beef, dairy, poultry, and a flourmill just at the edge of the City. But liquors, tobaccos, coffee, spices, sugar, fresh fruits, silks, and medicines, they would have to be delivered, for there was no natural source for them there.

The shopkeeper eyed the windows at the front of the mercantile carefully. As soon as the doors were open, all those who gathered there would be inside, and the shelves would be bare yet again. One hat in particular caught his eye, it was that of Sebastian. He'd know it anywhere. The man was a full head taller than any other in the City. He shuddered, he'd rather hoped the storm would have chased he and his companion from the City for good.

As he stocked the humidor, watching the tops of hats bobbing to-and-fro, he smiled to himself. The particular preferences of Sebastian and Pyotr had somehow been missing from the shipment. He'd have to remember to thank his wife later, for surely she must have omitted it from the order. Perhaps that would cause them not to tarry at the shop, but go back to whence they'd come. He really could never put his finger on what it was that he felt about the men, but he loathed them just the same.

There was a rather large box, sitting off to the side near to the back door. It was the items that Monsieur Courtland had ordered some time before when last he was there with his wife. The storm had greatly delayed the shipments, but at last they had arrived. He'd send out a small sled and horse on the morrow to deliver the goods, as they'd already been paid for on his account.

He'd not seen one member from the Courtland household since the storm arrived, though he'd heard that two had ventured in to the undertakers to see that all the details for the woman's burial had been taken care of. He was a bit surprised they'd not stopped there, having already made the grueling trip into the City. In truth he was anxious to learn of how the Monsieur and his wife had fared. He shook his head. Finally a man of honor had come to the City, and now, if rumor could be believed, the insolence with which he'd been handled at the inn, would likely cause him to depart, leaving the house empty yet again for another season.

XXXXX

The undertaker closed and locked the door. His young apprentice had not returned. He was entirely certain he'd been angry when he left, but he'd been far more certain that the young man would have returned with apology and acquiesced to his request to deliver a note to the Monsieur Courtland's house. He'd really no choice in the matter, as far as the undertaker was concerned, at least not if he wanted to keep his employment there. What a shame it would be for an apprentice to fail when he was so close to finishing.

He smacked his lips. He'd have his afternoon tea and read a bit perhaps. All the bodies that rested there were prepared and awaiting the gravediggers and priests.

XXXX

Meg's breath had grown shallow. She blinked with great effort as she tried to keep from keeling over. Raoul had not been sleeping, or at least she could not be certain that he had slept, though he'd appeared he had done as much. Now, with the extra drug in his system, he was drooling on the pillow, a sure sign, she thought, that he was indeed at complete rest.

Rising from the chair, she began to pace the room. Her only hope was to convince Raoul that he'd imagined it all when first he brought it to discussion. Though she hated to lie, what other choice did she have now? She needed to convince him it was all part of some fantastic dream he'd fashioned in the delusions of the drugs and pain. Surely that would make sense to him. Yet another lie, in a string of lies, and now, her unburdened conscience she'd so relished just an hour before, was once again heavy laden with the knowledge of not only what she'd revealed in ignorance, but by that which she was about to do in the name of a higher good. Would there ever be an end to the lies she would have to tell him? She paced tensely all the more.

She stopped dead in her tracks, her breath caught in her chest, for a great sound grew outside. At first she'd thought it to be the weather, it sounded rather like the howling of the winds or a rushing in of a rainstorm. But then, as she went to the window to open it, her eyes grew wide with horror. There was a sea of black cloaks below the Opera House. There was screaming and cheering, all manner of things being tossed in the air. She opened the window just slightly so as to hear the chanting. "Vicomte, Vicomte, Vicomte!"

Meg turned on her heels, her eyes flashing in terror to look at Raoul. She quickly drew the window closed. How had anyone known he was there? Why were they chanting? The propsmaster had never told her of what they had done…what Raoul had done…nor explained the presence of Christine's cloak. He'd told her only that he had been the one to deposit Raoul in her mother's chambers and that he'd gone back to the Phantom's lair, and scoured the tunnels, finding that which they'd suspected, footprints in the mud.

Her heart began to race. She'd made the assumption that meant that Erik had gotten away, that he and Christine were safe….had she mistaken the man's words? She gasped…what had they done?

Meg moved back to the window, looking over her shoulder at Raoul, before she opened the window just a sliver. She could hear them chanting…could it be? She listened closely, yes it was so….

"Vicomte's a hero the beast is dead, Vicomte's a hero the beast is dead…"

She could not bear it…her eyes darting back and forth not pausing long enough to focus on anything…it all made sense to her now… Surely Erik had been drug out into the street, found somehow…killed…and Christine…Raoul after all had the very cloak she'd been wearing! What other reason would a group of citizens be clamoring at the gates of the Opera House? Meg nearly fell as she made her way back to the chair. She barely noticed when the door flew open, Nadir rushing to her side.

"Come Meg, let us go to your mother's bedchamber, we must talk." He glanced from Meg to Raoul, "do not worry, he shall be fine without you." He lifted her hand, helping her rise, and led her from the room, one arm supporting her beneath her shoulders. He'd had no doubt by the look on her face that she'd heard it too. It was their greatest fear now come to pass, but how it had happened he knew not. His only want now was to find Christine, and reunite them all until he could figure out what to do.

Madame Giry sat dutifully in the great room with DeChagny and the doctor. She sipped from a cup just poured from the fresh press of espresso and demitasse that had been delivered by the kitchen at the doctor's request. The pair of staff had come together, as they'd a fresh tray to deliver to mademoiselle Giry.

Madame Giry sighed, it was good, yes, but it paled in comparison to that which Madeline made. She smiled, hoping all was well at Raoul's house. She glanced over at the wall of windows. She'd heard a noise of some sort or another, but she'd not heard detail. Nadir had been standing next to the window when it first began, and he'd said he would go to check on the disturbance, that his legs needed a bit of stretching. She'd not given it another thought.

She glanced at the doctor, he'd drawn a book from his bag, and was now casually leaning back to read. No doubt that latest treatise on some subject or another. DeChagny sat rather peacefully in one of the overstuffed chairs, dozing, as was his usual behavior after a meal. She sighed again, they'd little left to talk about, and now they were simply passing time sitting in that most comfortable room, waiting for Raoul to wake.

Madame Giry glanced around the room. Now having spent time in it, she could see how there would be many hours of self reflection and pleasure spent there by many classes of her ballet students…Erik had been most wise in fashioning a room such as this. It was as far from the distractions of the floors below it as a room could be, and none could venture there without escort. It was perfect for the nourishing of the tender souls of impressionable young women.

She closed her eyes, just briefly, breathing in and out. She'd begun to slowly, but certainly make her decision. Meg would be staying with Raoul, she would take her place once more as the ballet mistress. Christine and Erik…they had a family to raise now. And Nadir…dear sweet Nadir, he'd a few choices of his own to make. She knew what she so wanted in her heart of hearts, but she, better than anyone, understood his loyalties to Erik. It would no doubt be as difficult for him as it was for her. For unlike the others, for now, he would have to be the bridge to two worlds…two worlds so far apart that they might as well have occupied two different places in the Copernican heavens. He would be their only link…the only link for a family who loved one another enough…to be parted.

XXXX

The two young women made their way down the hall to where the doctor had told them to deliver the tray. "She was one of us just months ago, and now we're to address her as mademoiselle rather than by her first name?" One said to the other.

"Surely the time she's spent under the roof of DeChagny has not given her right for a new title! She and her mother are going to be returning very soon. What then? Are we still to address her as mademoiselle when she rejoins us in the dormitories?" Said the other.

The two girls snickered as they came to the door, rapping on it lightly. They were looking around the halls, this was the first they'd seen of the dormitories, and though they were not yet finished, they were very excited to see them. They were far nicer than what they'd even hoped. When there was neither answer nor invitation, they knocked again.

"Perhaps the princess has fallen asleep." Said the first girl sarcastically.

The second girl snickered. "We can just go in then and put the tray on the table and be off. I'll not be responsible for disturbing her." The girl pushed passed her, opening the door cautiously, taking one step inside, the other girl close on her heels. She stopped and moved backwards quickly, nearly toppling the tray from the second girls hands.

"Whatever is the matter? I nearly spilled the tea!" The girl said disgustedly as she rearranged the cup and saucer that had all but fallen from the tray.

"Something is wrong." She looked at the other girl, her eyes now wide. "Meg is not in that room…it's the…it's the….Vicomte!" She nearly chocked on her own words.

"What? You must be mistaken." The girl was looking around the hallway. "This is the last door on this side of the hall, that is what the doctor instructed." She said, a great irritation in her voice.

"No, no, I assure you, it is the Vicomte, and he is quite asleep!" She shook her head. "I do not know what mistake has been made, there is no…"

A male voice from behind both of them startled them. "No, there's been no mistake, this is the room you were instructed to deliver the tray to. Is mademoiselle Giry not still sitting there?"

The girls looked liked they'd seen a ghost. How long had the doctor been there? The girl holding the tray, said, "no, she's not there sir, where might we…"

The doctor sighed, coming forward he took the tray from the girl's hand. "You may go. She must have grown tired from sitting watch, and gone to freshen up a bit, I'll see that she gets this."

The girls curtsied politely and descended the stairs. They'd not say a peep until they were certain they'd traveled far enough not to be over heard. Once several floors down, they huddled behind one of the doors in the many rooms that were there.

"The Vicomte! Why would she be sitting in with the Vicomte when he was sleeping? I'd not even heard word that he'd arrived! Surely if the mobs outside new him to be here, they'd clamor all the more at the gates!" The one girl nodded at the other.

"To think, our dear, handsome Victome is a hero! How wonderful to think that Paris will no longer have to fear for the likes of a Crawlings again!" She smiled. "You are most certainly correct. If they knew the hero to be here, they'd throw themselves over the fence to pay homage. Paris will be forever in his debt. It seems we've lost monster after monster these last months. Perhaps the arrival of the new Patron was a good omen for us all!"

"But what of Meg sitting with him?" The one girl looked jealously at the other.

"Perhaps they've befriended one another during her stay there, goodness knows that he does have a taste for Opera girls!" They laughed.

"Oh my, what a scandal that would be! The precious princess of the ballet mistress, a mere toy for the Vicomte to fetter away the doldrums brought about by a spring storm…oh how very charming!" They began to giggle. They'd best be off before someone came looking for them.

The two girls scampered from behind the closed door, looking this way and that lest they be caught dawdling by the kitchen mistress.

XXXX

Outside the Opera House, a swarm of humanity collected. Black cloaks abounded for as far as the eye could see. There was cheering in the streets as though a great victory in a bloody war had been won, and indeed it had. The name Vicomte DeChagny was on the tip of everyone's tongue.

"He's said to have chased Crawlings into the woods, where he made a swift end to him." One man said.

"I heard he fought him off with a sword, and then wielded a pistol with the other hand when he had him on the ground!" Said another.

"No, no, he tracked him from Paris, following him to his own house, then vanquishing him there once on safe soil, with protection of others in the event he failed." The others were shaking their heads. "No," the man was quite insistent, "it's the truth I tell you, someone saw Crawlings leaving Paris hurriedly being pursued by someone on a large horse, it had to have been the Vicomte!"

A small skirmish broke out about the events that had brought down Crawlings. But whatever version of the story they embraced, the end result was the same. Crawlings was dead, and the City of Paris had the Vicomte Raoul DeChagny to thank for it.

XXXXX

Christine knocked softly on the wall outside of the workshop. "May I join you?" She called in, seeing the woman's back turned toward her. She was obviously busy at something.

"Oh yes child, do come in." She motioned to Christine. "How is our patient feeling?" She chuckled a bit. "Did he complain about drinking the bitters? He always asked for a peppermint after he'd drunk them before, he said the taste was worse than swamp water." She laughed all the more. "We found great humor in arguing over the very fact he could not compare it to swamp water when in fact, he'd never actually drunk swamp water!" She laughed a bit more, then turned back to her work.

Christine came in, pulling up the singular stool just off to the side of where the woman was working. "He took it without complaint, though he did wince a time or two. In his defense, it smelled far worse than anything I've ever had the displeasure to inhale, even worse than the stagnant stench of the moors in the dead of summer!"

That made the woman laugh. "Yes I know, it is a terrible mix of herbs, but I assure you it is very effective! By the morrow he should be feeling considerably better!"

Christine looked down at the ground. She had to tell this dear sweet woman that they would be leaving just after night fell. She so wished they'd more time to visit…more time for her to learn about what the woman knew of her dear Erik.

"Why are you so silent child, is everything else alright…you are feeling alright?" She turned her face toward Christine, as if to gaze at her. The hollowness of her eyes sent a shiver up Christine's spine.

"Yes, quite well. I'm only in the midst of my third month now, but the nausea has eased, and most generally, save the strange cravings and often ravenous bouts of hunger, I feel oddly better than I ever have!" Christine was smiling, though she knew the only hint of happiness the woman would have sensed was the timbre of her voice.

"You are feeling quite well as you've not breathed this well in a number of years. Not being so confined to those corsets….that alone would make one feel better. I'm glad to see you've abandoned the idea of such frivolousness for the duration."

"I do believe you are quite correct dear lady. I really shan't miss those as much as I thought. Though it is dreadful the way a body looks without them!" Christine said as she looked down at her figure in the mirror. The coveted hour-glass shape was slowly disappearing, just slightly, but she knew it was only the beginning.

"Do not worry child, it will come back when you are done. In truth, I've heard it said, that some husband's find their wives even more desirable when they are with child. Not so prone to fainting spells, and a bit more color in their cheeks!" The woman smiled, she'd overheard many conversations about that very thing.

Christine was blushing. In truth she'd not thought about it, though she knew her physical attraction for Erik had not waned, nor his for her. She thought it to be the afterglow of being newly married, but perhaps, there was more. She knew it pleased Erik beyond words to know that part of him was with her always, and that one day soon, they would hold someone that was flesh of both of their flesh.

"He is a most devoted husband, I can assure you. I've no fear of being neglected." Christine said rather coyly.

"Ah yes, with anger usually comes passion." The woman said as she laid out a large bolt of fabric on the table. It was of the finest silk, a regal chiffon yellow.

Christine wanted to ask what sort of garment she was making, but her first question was more pressing. "Stephan was angry? While he was here?"

The woman shook her head. "Not angry about being here, rather he brought his anger with him. I never heard a foul word from his lips while he was awake, nor indication he'd be anything but a proper gentleman. But when he slept…there were times I was afraid we'd had an intruder he screamed so!"

"Nightmares?" Christine said looking down at the ground. She'd witnessed a few of those herself. There were times when the bed shook from his frenzied movements, but most often his words were inaudible.

"I presume they were." She said as she began to take pin after pin, placing them as precisely as a woman with her years of experience would, though Christine could not imagine how one did so without the benefit of sight. "He would never speak of them when he woke, often denying he had them. Though I knew he was not being truthful, for he'd become unusually sullen after a terrible streak of them."

Christine was so very curious. "How often did he come for a visit…were they long?"

The woman smiled at her, a sweet expression coming over her face. "My dear, dear, girl. There are many stories I could tell you! His arrivals were sporadic, erratic even. He would appear at my door in the dead of night. Then he would stay up all night that first night painting. If he stayed a second night, I could be fairly certain he'd be there for a week, nearly to the day. It was during those times we had the most fun, and accomplished the most work!"

Christine smiled, resting her elbows on the corner of the worktable, putting her head into her hands. "Was he good company?"

The woman laughed. "Good company? That is a simple question with a very complicated answer! But yes, for the most part, we enjoyed one another's company. He was a good listener! He'd loved to ask questions about the mystery of life. Why were people so cruel…why did some only love what they could see…and what was it like to love when one had no site!" She grew quiet. "There were times we wept together for the cruelty of the world. This world places far too much importance on perfection, rather than appreciating things and people for what good they can offer to those around them."

Christine sighed. Somehow she felt sorrow and pity, and yet relief. Relief that somewhere in the world someone had shown Erik compassion in a way that he could feel it. This was a woman who could only judge the man by what he said and did, not by how he looked. Perhaps he had found brief periods of solace there.

A silence fell. They'd both pondered those very questions. Why was the world so cruel?

XXXX

"Erphan, I do think we'd better hurry." JP said as he trudged through the slush of melting snow. "If we're to pull a sleigh through this, we'll need more than our pair of horses. I've no doubt that the trip will be…" His voice dropped when he caught sight of Erphan. The young man's face was twisted in pain and confusion. "What is it? Do you not think…"

Erphan was stepping gingerly, his boots pushing through the thin crusts of the undisturbed snows on their way back to the seamstresses shop. "I must speak with Monsieur Courtland. I'll not be making any decisions on my own in regards to our travel arrangements."

He shook his head disgustedly. His boots were sodden through and through, he was chilled to the bone not from the temperatures, for it was indeed very mild. It was the wetness of his boots, and the fear that gripped at his heart. How were they to travel through this mess….but surely staying in Paris would require a bit of hiding. His mind not yet made up about the truth of it all. Was Elizabeth not Elizabeth? And Monsieur Courtland….but why would a wealthy man such as he have need to hide beneath an Opera House? He shook his head. It mattered little. He would be dutiful no matter the truth. But whatever it would be, he knew the couple had need to be safeguarded lest anyone else be more presumptuous and ambitious. For certainly a great reward had been offered on the parchment that rested in his pocket. His brow furrowed, his jaw clenched. If blood was thicker than water….was not honor worth far more than money and glory?

The pair walked in silence all the way back to the shop, venturing in through the service entrance so they could rid themselves of their wet clothing. For once Erphan was thankful that he'd thought to deposit a change of clothing just inside, lest he have to travel the corridor in his bloomers alone.


	196. Too Long Without the Love of a Father

Chapter 196 Too Long Without the Love of a Father 

"No Nadir, we must not…." Erik's voice muddled into a mere groan as he rolled over. He'd been dreaming of Nadir visiting them at Courtland Manor. Spring was in full bloom, and so was Christine. She'd fallen asleep under the shade of a large flowering branch, a glass of chilled jasmine tea with slices of lemon floating on the top like lily pads, sat on the small table next to her. She was in a lovely flowing pink summer dress, the tresses of her hair pulled back with a long white silk ribbon. Her cheeks were full and a blushing pink, as much from the extra blood that flowed through her veins, as the reflection of the dress that she wore. Erik could hear Nadir chuckling.

"She looks like a sleeping water sprite Erik! Just one little tickle with this feather beneath her nose…"

Erik could hear his own voice, "she is so tired Nadir, her time grows close at hand, let her rest while she can. Rest at night has become rather difficult. She is so warm, and finding a comfortable position has become complicated. Let her rest while she might. No doubt the gentle breezes from the sea have lulled her to sleep." Erik could feel a smile cross his face. He knew himself to be dreaming, but it was so pleasant there, he could not help himself. It was like peeking through a worm hole into their future life.

"Oh my dear Erik, soon your house will be full enough, you won't even miss my visits over the winter months."

In his dream Erik could see himself nodding. "I've no doubt that Christine and I will be quite occupied when the children arrive. I'm determined to help her all that I can." Erik's face grew sad. "In all that I've read on the subject, the truth is that I've yet to touch the flesh of a young child, nor hold a baby in my arms." He smiled, a wave of tears growing in his eyes. "How very strange and wonderful that the first I shall hold will be that of my own!"

Nadir chuckled. "Erik, this business of having triplets, how could one ever be so blessed! It is just like you though…whenever you'd made up your mind to do something…."

Erik saw himself laughing. This world of dreams was so very odd. It gave one opportunity to see oneself as others might. This dream world so very often deviated far from the truth; bordering on the fantastic and surreal, to morbid and terrifying. Still in his dream, whenever he saw himself, he wore his mask. It puzzled him. Why when he'd known of the alterations of his flesh, did he still dream of himself in a mask? He did not know, save the thought that perhaps it would take a good long while for his mind to accept the fact he was changed, if it ever would.

He huffed, rolling over again. He'd a chill run through him, and it wasn't from inside but from outside. The cooling of his sweat-soaked clothing that clung to him had begun to chill his skin. He'd felt a draft, but wondered to himself if it was all part of the dream….an extension of the sea breezes he could see swirling around Christine's fairy-like frame as she slept. Then he heard footsteps in the hall; soft footsteps, as one might make if one were wearing only stockings. He knew Christine had put on a pair of shoes before she ventured out to tend to their arrangements, so it shan't be her. Then he heard muffled voices in the adjoining room. It was Erphan returning with his report he surmised. Stretching, yawning, he batted his eyes as he opened them; though they fought vigorously to stay closed. All hope of returning to the most pleasant dream now vanished, for reality returned whether one wanted it to or not.

He'd come to the art of eaves-dropping quite naturally. Perfecting it through years of reluctant practice. The first he could recall doing it, was when he would sit by his darkened window as the woman slept, listening to the children play outside, and to the conversations of men and women on the floors below. Her stern warning to be silent left him with little alternative but to listen during those hours…it had been his only connection with the world outside his cloistered existence. Though the memories of those years remained vague, the skills he learned, reading, writing, and listening, were firmly in tact.

It was when he traveled with the gypsies that he'd truly honed his acute listening skill. It was only through their conversations that he knew to whence they traveled. It had taken a long while to learn their language. It was akin to French, but a strange divergence, almost a sub-dialect. Blending a bit of English, and what he assumed, from what he later read, to be Italian. By the time he'd traveled with them in the third winter, he'd nearly become fluent in this odd verse. Through this he had learned much about geography, and about the heartless and ruthless ways of men. Life had trifling value in their world, and least of all those within their clan, such as he, that were little more than dogs to be exploited.

In truth, this acquired skill of patient, attuned listening, had likely saved his life on more than one occasion. In Persia it had helped he and Nadir plan their escape. In the Opera House it had alerted him when searches were to be conducted. And today, he made use of the skill, merely because he could. Though he'd become fond of Erphan, his youth could make him overly eager to please his master and mistress, agreeing that there was a path for them to travel, only to find themselves quite stuck in the middle of the country, with no help, and the danger of being truly discovered.

He listened for a long while as the he heard the men rummaging about in their bags, for what he couldn't imagine. Were they packing? Erik sat up, as if to rise, he would not be the last to be ready. Then Erphan began to speak.

"You will need to dress in your warmest. If he should decide to tarry in Paris, you will take the horse and travel back to the winter house. I will remain at their service here."

"But Erphan, you have been to Paris on a number of occasions, do let me stay in their service if they should decide to remain. I could be most helpful, and would not at all mind having opportunity to see a bit more of the City itself when I'm given time for leisure." JP said imploringly.

Erik could hear scuffling of feet, and a small scrape of the legs of chairs on the wooden floor.

"You and I are but a few years apart JP, and in truth, I've just begun my true service to our Monsieur, but let me give you a word of advice. When we travel with the Monsieur and his wife, we are always at their service. Even now as we sit in this room, we are at their service. The very fact that we were permitted to travel about Paris was at his behest to help the woman with whom we've stayed. True duty is best conducted with the knowledge that one is always at the service of their master unless specifically instructed otherwise. One must always have the sense that at any moment their service could be petitioned, and be ready to respond accordingly. To anticipate the needs of those in whose service you are indebted, is the attitude one must take if one is to be considered faithful and loyal. For us JP, there is no higher honor than to be trusted, and trusted implicitly." Erphan paused. "Until such time as you can come to this knowledge, embracing it as your own, you must bide your time, and do what is bid you."

Erik was smiling. Somewhere this young man had learned a lesson that some twice or even thrice his age never had. How sage a man he already was. Erik could only imagine this young man was very much a shadow of what Nadir had been like in his youth. It boded well for his grooming in the faithful service of his family. There were few Erik trusted as he trusted Nadir, and perhaps he never would, but what he'd learned of Erphan so far, inclined him toward the possibility.

"Erphan, what think you that he will do?"

"I do not presume to know his intentions. I know that he shall want to protect his wife, providing for her every comfort. I shall quite simply speak to him of what we've seen, the conversations we had with those that had traveled into the City, and let the Monsieur decide for himself. That is why I've told you to be ready. No matter what his decision, you will be leaving here this night. And now with the threat of Crawlings gone from Paris, travel along the road will be much less fearful a trip."

Erik's breath caught in his chest. What had they heard?

"Erphan, do you believe it? An aristocrat, truly, wouldn't he have had someone in his service see to the disposal of such a threat? Why would he knowingly put himself in harms way when he'd nearly an army of faithful staff who'd have done so for him?"

"It is odd, I would agree, but as I recall from what Nadir has said of the family which Meg and Madame Giry have been staying with, it might not be as unusual as one might think. The elder man is given to boasting, so perhaps there is an arrogant vein in the family that would compel one such as he to strike a killing blow, if for nothing more than the bragging rights."

Erik leaned back against the divan. So word had spread in Paris already. He shook his head. It was the one thing that perplexed him most about people, why did they hunger so for such fodder for gossip? No doubt it had emanated from the undertaker's office, or the police. He looked down, his eyes nearly boring a hole in the floor. He huffed. Of course DeChagny would be exceedingly proud of a son who'd rid Paris of an arch-criminal remnant of a family. It would only further the man's pompous haughtiness. Oh what egos some men had. Erik shook his head. So many thinking themselves to be such an important cog in the wheel of a City the likes of Paris!

He listened as the young men finished their conversation about what was to be packed, and what JP would take with him if he were to leave. It was nothing of consequence, and Erik could feel the pull of sleep dragging him unwilling back into slumber. Christine had indeed bid him rest, so he fought it no longer and allowed his eyes to fall closed.

XXXX

The woman began to chuckle under her breath. Christine's eyes lit up, "a memory perhaps?" Oh how she longed to hear a story…a story of something good that may have happened in Erik's life…there had been far too much tragedy and loss.

"A memory indeed." The woman mumbled as she removed the last pin she held between her lips, sliding it into place in the fabric. "There. That is ready to be cut, but let us have some tea first shall we?" She smiled in Christine's direction.

Christine smiled and happily took the woman's arm. "I'll retrieve the tea," she said softly.

"Nonsense, we can go together my dear." She patted Christine's hand. "I can see why he loves you my dear, you are certainly as sweet as the morning dew!" She laughed, as they began to walk out of the room and toward the kitchen. "That is what he always said of you!" The woman smiled, Christine was blushing. "That and that you were like manna from heaven, the food of the God's and the only nourishment his soul would ever have need or want for."

A great tear grew in Christine's eyes as they walked down the hall. He'd described his love for her with such words…it was beyond flattering. "I'm quite afraid he held far too high an opinion of me, I was but a…" Christine caught herself, nearly saying she was mere opera rat…! The conversations with this woman were so genuine and natural, she'd been lulled into a warm security nearly exposing herself. She sighed, quickly finishing, "I was but a mere girl, nothing out of the ordinary when he found me."

"I beg to differ with you my dear child. You altered his life forever. Before he spoke of you, his spent his time talking of wishing for death, of being spared, of finding redemption from this perdition he felt had befallen him. Would that it be that he'd never met you, I do not know what would have become of him! And I must say, you have had a most pleasant affect on me. It has been a long while since I'd had such pleasant company my dear."

Christine patted the woman's arm as they turned into the kitchen. "That is only because you've yet to see my rather childish side, I do most certainly have my flaws, in spite of what Stephan may have told you." They both laughed as the woman filled the nearly empty kettle on the stove, setting it to boil.

"Come, come, have a seat." The woman was saying as she patted the table with her hand searching for the chair. No doubt it was not in its customary place, for the woman grimaced. Surely order was an important part of managing one's life if you'd no benefit of sight. No doubt Erphan or JP had moved the chairs about when they'd been in the kitchen.

Christine moved forward guiding the woman's hand to the chair. "Thank you my dear." She said smiling at her. "Now, I do believe, unless those young men have displaced it, there should be a jar with some cookies in it. Do you like ginger snaps?"

Christine smiled, she had enjoyed them so. It was one that they baked during the holidays, filling the house with such wonderful scents. "As a matter of fact, I do enjoy them very much, they remind me of being a young child." Christine lifted the jar down from the shelf bringing it to the table. "Would you mind telling me…telling me another story about Stephan?"

The woman smiled, dipping her hand in the jar, retrieving a cookie putting it on the plate Christine had set in front of her. "A story," she sighed, a grin on her face. "There are so many to choose from!" She laughed. "Let me see…"

Christine sat in eager anticipation. No matter the subject, nor situation, it would be part of Erik's past that she could share in, the mere thought of it thrilled her.

"Very well then," she settled in her chair as they waited for the water to boil. "It was a summer night. It had been so very hot that day." She closed her eyes and shook her head as she recalled it, though the wide smile that crossed her face assured Christine that it would be a good story. "It was one of those sweltering days when even sitting still one is dripping wet. The sun shone brightly that day, and everyone was thrilled, it had ended a two week period of rains every day. Paris had become a pig pen, full of mud on all but the cobblestone streets, and even they were muddy from the wheels of wagons! I guess it was no different for the City than this great snowstorm, perhaps that is what made me think of it!" She laughed. "My shop was not, let us say, a favorable place to be trying on and off dresses nor clothing, so though I had plenty of work to keep me busy, I'd not had company for several days. I simply worked until I was tired, rested and started again. I really didn't know what time of day it was, nor how many days had passed, I worked and slept and so on. Needless to say, I'd grown quite discombobulated without some sort of structure, but who was I to care as long as I'd their jobs ready for fitting when they came?" The woman laughed again as she leaned her ear toward the stove. The water was just starting to heat up in the kettle, as it had begun to tink and pop. Tea was still a few minutes off.

Christine wondered where in the world this story was going. But she listened patiently.

"I don't now, as I've said, what time it was, except that it was very quiet, and I assumed it was nightfall because he never traveled by light, why I've no idea." The woman said so casually.

Christine grimaced, if only the woman had known.

"I was bent over a garment, sweating so much I nearly worried I'd stain the fabric, when I heard the knock at the back door. I knew it was him, for who else would it be?" She laughed. "I went to the door, and sure enough, there he was. The dear soul put something cold into my hand. Where he'd gotten it, I don't know, but he'd brought a jar of chilled peaches, and some other awful salty…"

"Fish, it was fish I'm certain." Christine recalling the first meal he'd shared with her. She shook her head, oh how she remembered the appearance of it. But to this woman that wouldn't have mattered.

"Yes, I do believe you are right. Do not tell me he has fed you that as well?"

"I regret to tell you, that is in fact, the very first meal we shared. It left me wondering about his food preferences!" Christine joked, though she knew it was more out of necessity than it was likely his preferences.

"You poor dear, he's fortunate that you did not send him to the curb from the first!" The woman laughed. "So in he came, peaches, fish, biscuits and all. He'd come for a night's visit he'd said, to finish one painting. We sat in the parlor talking and eating until we were full. There was no breeze to speak of, so having the windows open were of little help, all we could do is sweat." The woman began to chuckle.

"I shan't really recall the exact details that led to it, but it wasn't long before we were in the basement in the wine cellar. He'd brought down a kerosene lamp, so he could see, muttering, as I recall, that tidying that room would be our next project when he'd come for a longer visit. Well, we sat until we cooled. The cellar was a wonderful place to go when it was so very warm. With little to do but sit…he never like to be idle then…" the woman said shaking her head. "That poor man never seemed to rest! There was quite a collection of wine in the cellar. Mostly gifts I've received over the years for holidays and gratuities from loyal patrons. He decided that they should at least be organized. I'd the racks for them, why not make use of them was his logic." The woman was smiling.

Christine smiled too. It was just like Erik to do something like this. Even as her tutor he was organized and methodical.

"We were there for I'm quite certain hours. It was so very comfortable, and we knew what awaited us when we went upstairs, so we tarried. He sorted out first the reds from the whites. Then by region until I laughed at him, then he changed his mind, sorting it by year. The whites were in order of the oldest to the youngest, the reds, from youngest to the oldest. He took me to the racks taking my hands to show me the differences. I humored him though I knew I'd never venture down to retrieve it. For what good is wine drunk alone? I never entertained! But I humored him, in truth I enjoyed the company."

Christine smiled touching the woman's hand as she rose to retrieve the kettle that had just begun to boil. "I've no doubt he enjoyed the company as well." Christine thinking that to be the end of the story. "Tell me another?" She asked as she poured the water into the teapot she'd already lined with a tea ball and several slices of orange and a cinnamon stick from the jars on the woman's counter.

"Another, I've not yet finished this one!" The woman laughed again as Christine resettled into her chair. "He was perplexed as to what to do with the bottle of red he'd not room for. He didn't want to put it on the rack with the white, but neither did he want to put it on the floor next to the rack, lest it be toppled over by accident and break. I suppose it was only the natural solution, but we both happened upon the only suitable one, and that was to drink it. He went upstairs to retrieve several glasses, while I cleaned with my apron the old cork-screw that he'd found hanging on the end of the rack."

Christine was smiling widely. By the glimmer in the woman's eye, this is where the real story began.

XXXX

Meg sat with Nadir in her mother's bedchamber. "Nadir, whatever are we to do? Can it be possible?" She was nearly inconsolable.

Nadir himself was as unnerved as he had ever been. How would Erik have ever have found himself in such a state? He was a careful calculating man. He knew how to travel without detection. Perhaps it was as Nadir had feared, living among gentle creatures where he'd no need to hide, had dulled his keen senses, thus making him vulnerable.

He shook his head. "Meg, whatever we do, we must think of ourselves now. Erik would have wanted it no other way. If it has happened as we fear, then Erik had no choice, and he'd be all the more distraught if he thought for one moment that our lives would be in jeopardy because of his discovery."

He took Meg's hand into his, running the other under her chin. "Child, Erik and I, years ago came to an understanding." Nadir's lips began to quiver as he recalled this most sacred pact. "If one of us were caught, and there hope of neither rescue nor escape, the other was to walk away, disavowing all knowledge of the other's existence, no matter the consequence. For it was better that one was able to be free, than both to be dead."

Nadir's eyes were filled with tears as Meg looked up at him. He took her into an embrace, crying, for the first time in a very long while. He'd never shared this fear nor pact with anyone else. Yet, somehow, he and Meg had grown a bond with the sharing of fiercely guarded secrets. His shoulders shook as Meg began to run her hand along his back, trying to comfort him.

"Nadir, I can assure you that you meant a great deal to Erik, though you likely knew that already. He was a fine man…" Meg's own voice cracking in emotion…was she already speaking of him in past-tense?

The two sat, holding one another shedding tears. There were no solutions now. Everything they thought would one day bring them together. The notion that Erik and Raoul were brothers, Erik finally finding a parent…all the other mysteries that they suspected…now laid to waste. What tragedy had fallen when they were so very close to such potential happiness.

"Nadir? Meg?"

They both turned, the voice breaking the temporary shroud they'd pulled around themselves in their grief. Meg rose, wiping her eyes and her cheeks.

"Mother?"

"There the two of you are!" Madame Giry said as she came into the room, her smile quite quickly growing to a frown. "Whatever is wrong? Is it Raoul?" She glanced over her shoulder as if she half expected the doctor to be standing there with sad news.

"Mother, no, did you not hear the chanting?"

Nadir rose taking Madame Giry's hand leading her to the edge of the bed. "Oh Antoinette!" He said, trying to stave off a fresh wave of tears.

She looked bewildered, "chanting, yes, that is why I came looking for you, is it not wonderful?" She smiled and winked at Nadir.

Nadir's mind reeled what was this happy sentiment? She clearly misunderstood.

"All of Paris is in the streets celebrating! Raoul DeChagny is most certainly the man of the hour my dear. His father has gone down to make a statement to those gathered in the courtyard. He's no intentions of letting them know that Raoul is here. He wants his son to be fully recovered before he greets the public, though I do think this is the first time I've seen the man's chest swell in honest pride!"

Meg felt faint again. Could her mother be quite mad? "Mother, do not tell me that you celebrate in this folly! When our very happiness has been dashed?" Meg's mouth hung open in disbelief.

"Why are the two of you so sullen? Paris is overjoyed at being rid of that beast!"

Meg's mouth flew up over her mouth as she leaned heavily back into Nadir's arms.

"Nadir, I thought you would be thrilled with the news. It will work quite nicely for our plans do you not think?"

Nadir blinked, blinked again. His mind was swirling. Suddenly a look of sheer epiphany overcame him. He turned taking Meg's chin into his hand. "My dear young lady, I fear we have made a most egregious error.

Meg looked into Nadir's eyes. The relief she saw in them both baffled and comforted her. "Nadir?"

Madame Giry came to kneel before the two of them, taking one of each of their hands into hers. "The city of Paris is celebrating the death of the last of the Crawlings family." She looked at the two, suddenly realizing, that they had been under a distinctly different impression.

Meg's chest rose in a giant sob, changing to laughter. She turned in Nadir's arms, flinging her arms about his neck, kissing him on the cheek, laughing as she nestled her head on his shoulder.

Nadir laughed heartily too, though he wanted to cry out of relief that it had not been so. As he held Meg, their laughs utterly confusing Madame Giry, Nadir thought to himself, this is what it must feel like to have a daughter. He kissed her cheek as he smiled at Madame Giry. He was nearly certain that was the very thought that ran through her mind. Meg had been too long without the love of a father.


	197. Love is Love

Chapter 197 Love is Love 

Dear Faithfuls: Just a note to let everyone know that there will not be an update on Wednesday. Thank you for your kind indulgence….darned work, it is always getting in the way of all of my fun!

The man had made it into Chauesser as Andre had requested, but the trip had not been easy. In good weather the trip was no more than ten minutes by carriage, fifteen by sleigh. It had taken him nearly an hour and half. The surface of the snow was hard to gauge. In places it was solid, almost slippery from the melting upper layers. In places it was soft, the horse's hooves easily poking holes in them. He'd been careful, as he'd taken his favorite stallion, and had no want to injure the animal just to deliver a note. He was cold, his horse weary, and though he knew he had need to deliver the note as soon as possible, he had to stop for a brief respite, if for no other, then for the sake of the horse.

Arriving at the inn, he took the horse to the stable behind. The inn had been busy during the storm, but high tea was an even busier time there. He'd had half a mind to go to the mercantile instead, had it not been for the horse, he would have. The horse needed rest and warmth. No animal belonging to the Lady would be found neglected. He kicked at the post by the door before entering through the service entrance. He'd no want to return to the front, for he was only one, and had no need of a proper table for tea. A seat at the tavern rail was all that he would require.

The inn, as he'd anticipated was brimming and overflowing. There seemed to be a happy bustle moving through the crowded room. The last seat at the corner of the long bar was vacant. He sat down next to a rather sullen looking young man. A simple nod provided him a pot of tea, and a small plate of fruit preserves and a trio of petite scones. They were still warm from the oven, coated with a lovely golden crust and coarsely granulated sugar. It was a welcome treat having been out in the damp cold, which he found far more penetrating than a simple chill from a wind.

"Pardon me sir, would you be so kind as to pass me the cream?"

The young man barely looked up, his sullen expression unchanged as he pushed the silver tea service with cream and lumps of sugar toward him. Several people at the bar scowled at him, the behavior was rather rude by any standard. One lifted and passed, not shoved across as if they were still barbarians.

"Thank you," said the man scowling at him slightly. The poor boy, he assumed must be having a terrible day. "A fly in your tea sir?" He tried to make polite conversation. After all he was nearly pinned in the corner next to him, with no hope of striking up a conversation with anyone else. The young man only nodded. At least he was not deaf, a promising sign.

"Everyone is certainly excited today, no doubt pent up giddiness from being kept indoors by the storm." The man took a bite of his scone, washing it down with a gulp of tea.

The young man looked up at him, there was little hope now that the man would be quite. He only wanted to be left alone. He'd a decision to make. He'd not want to lose his apprenticeship, nor did he want to harass the citizens of Chauesser for information, least of all a customer in good standing, and a new citizen at that. He loathed the cheeriness of the gabbling of the man next to him. He needed time for thoughts. Surely a curt answer would dissuade any further conversation. "No sir, a dead man, Crawlings to be exact is what they celebrate."

The man nearly dropped his cup of tea. "What?"

The young man sighed. "Crawlings is dead, the last of the bloodline they're sure. Killed yesterday by some aristocrat in Paris. Word just arrived on the sleigh that came from there to the mercantile. That good sir, is what they are celebrating." The young man looked down at his tea. The shot of scotch he'd had the man behind the bar put in it had done little to relieve his anxiety.

"How very fortunate sir, how very fortunate indeed. The Lady will be exceedingly pleased to hear of it." He was suddenly feeling rather smart for having stopped for a rest and tea. One never knew what tid-bit of information one might glean from informal social gatherings.

The young man was temporarily distracted by the man's words. "The Lady? Do you mean your wife sir?" Certain that he was merely being polite to call her such.

The man took another bite of his scone, this time swimming in strawberry preserves. "No sir," he wiped at the corners of his mouth, "Lady C sir. I am here at her behest. I've a note to deliver, but stopped in to rest my horse and take a cup of tea."

The young man's eyes lit for the first time in hours. What fortune he had. If anyone could be of help to him now, it was Lady C. He'd heard through the grapevine that she'd a dislike for the undertaker, and perhaps, with her help, though he did not even know what to ask, he could somehow find a way out of this sticky wicket. "Lady C? Well then sir, I apologize for having treated you so rudely. I dare say I've the highest respect for the woman. It just so happens that this could be a most fortuitous meeting sir." He extended his hand. "My name is David Chenier, I work for…"

"Yes, yes, I recognize you. I recall seeing you at the service for my wife last year sir." The man looked down at his folded hands. Suddenly remembering the winter funeral.

"And you sir?" The tide of the conversation changing; suddenly an interest had grown in the young man.

The man looked up at him, blinking. "How terribly rude of me," he extended his hand shaking the young man's. "I am Patrick Bizet. I am but a liaison for Andre, I believe you may have had an encounter with him?"

"Yes, yes, I've had opportunity to work with him on many occasions." He paused, removing the smile from his face. Surely frequent visits to an undertaker was not something to be pleasant about. He grew serious. "Sir, I know I've but made your acquaintance, but I wonder if you might share something with the Lady, perhaps quite discretely if it were possible, and no names need be mentioned." David was looking around to see if anyone was paying attention. Feeling assured he looked at Patrick.

"Yes of course, what is it that you require?" He was certain there was some need the young man had. He'd heard Andre unburdening himself in the kitchens after nearly every trip into Chauesser. There was always some sad story of woe he was to carry back to Lady C. for a citizen of the City. He sighed, he'd be patient and polite, as Andre had always claimed to be in those situations.

"Sir, it is not for me, per say, as much in the name of right and wrong." David was again looking around to see if anyone might be listening.

Patrick looked at him, "I'm not certain I understand."

"You see sir, I am in my last year of my apprenticeship with the undertaker. I've been biding my time until I could receive my certificate, and now to be so close and have threat of losing it…"

Patrick looked at him. He was more confused now than before David had begun.

"Sir, I've been asked to do something…something, I dare say intrusive, with our new family to Chauesser." He leaned forward whispering as quietly as he could. "You see, the undertaker is concerned about Monsieur Courtland. He finds it quite odd that he'd be found with two dead women in a month's time, and he's asked me to do a bit of probing. I'm to deliver a note there if not today, then surely on the morrow, or suffer the consequences of failing to do as he asks."

Patrick turned to look at him, leaning closer. "He bids you do what?"

"Sir, I've no want to cause problems, neither do I want to hurt an innocent man, nor sully my own reputation for being respectful. If I do not deliver the note and be a bit of an inquisitor, I'm likely to lose my position there." He looked down. "While I am a young man, I've no want to start over again in six years of service to another undertaker."

Patrick shook his head. "That man has been a thorn in the sides of this City for as many years as he has been here. It is simply too bad that we've not been able to attract any others, but alas, no one wants to be this close, yet this far from Paris, where business is always plentiful." He scratched at his chin. "Did you say you were to deliver a note there sir?"

David shook his head. "Yes, I'm to do so by the morrow or suffer the consequences." He looked down again, the sullen look beginning to return.

"It just so happens, my new friend, I'm to make that very journey myself. The business of Lady C's that I'm to tend to, it is the delivery of a note to said household!" He smiled at David. "What say you and I make the trip together. We can keep one another company, and perhaps have a bit longer chat about that employer of yours."

David, lifted his cup, nodding towards Patrick. "Sir, I should be most honored. I've need to return to the parlor to retrieve the note, but could be back within the hour, ready to make the trip. Does that meet with your approval?"

Patrick nodded. "I sir should find this to be a suitable arrangement. I shall stay for the remainder of my tea, and await your return."

David was on his feet, a smile, and a glimmer of renewed hope in his eye. He nodded. "I'll return within the hour sir." He paused after he put on his cloak. "It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Patrick smiled, "the pleasure is all mine sir. Lady C is a most fair and prudent woman. I am certain she will take interest in resolving this matter swiftly."

The men smiled once more, David departed, and Patrick returned to his tea. Yes, a most fortuitous meeting indeed.

XXXX

Erik was awake; his feet already on the floor when Erphan knocked on the doorframe. "Monsieur?"

"Do come in Erphan, I trust you've news for me."

Erphan pushed the heavy curtain aside entering the room. "Monsieur, yes, I've some news. You've a decision to make based on what I've to share with you. Please know that whatever your choice, JP is ready to travel to the winter house, with or without out us Monsieur."

"And you Erphan, what are you ready for?" Erik inquired though he thought he likely knew the answer.

"I Monsieur, will do whatever you bid me do." Erphan said resolutely.

Erik smiled, he'd already made up his mind. "Very well then sir, what have you to say of the possibilities of travel?"

Erphan looked at Erik, "may I Monsieur?" Motioning toward the chair in the corner.

Erik nodded, "by all means, you must be weary." Erik watched his every reaction closely. If he were to be groomed, Erik would pay particular attention to those things that adversaries might use against him. Those were the things that took a long while to learn and often betrayed any words that one used.

"No Monsieur, I worry only of being overheard." Erphan said as he drew the chair next to where Erik sat on the divan.

Erik looked at him. "So what know you of the paths from this place?"

"Monsieur, it was as you suspected. The streets behind the seamstress shop have yet to be tended. In places we found they'd actually pushed some of the snow from the busier streets to those behind making the mounds there even larger. The alleyway directly behind this building Monsieur, I think must be traveled by no others, we saw nary a print or evidence of a sleigh rail having passed near here."

Erik smiled, it was in part, the reason he felt so comfortable there.

"Beyond that Monsieur, I can only rely upon what others that traveled in from the countryside have made mention of."

"You inquired with someone about traveling out of the City?" Erik would not indicate now lest he discourage Erphan, but direct questions about traveling out of a city was never a help to being able to do so undetected.

"No Monsieur, would that not have made our departure more difficult?" Suddenly Erphan was questioning his own judgment. "I had thought to listen was far better, since in taverns none has serious conversation with strangers. Nearly all they feel benign enough to discuss freely is travel and weather. One only have need to be a good listener to learn what one needs." Erphan glanced at Stephan, hoping that his explanation would excuse his behavior if it were incorrect, though in his gut it felt right.

Erik smiled at him, reaching out to grasp his shoulder. "No Erphan, it is just what I would have done." Erik could say the words without reservation, for in truth he was rather proud of the boy.

Erphan smiled, though he wanted to be serious and appear not to be flattered, he could not help himself. If he could emulate anyone in his life right now, it would be the man before whom he sat. He nodded.

"I heard that in the direction of DeChagny Manor, the paths have yet to return to the true roads, though they are barren of snow in a number of places. They say it is difficult to tell if it is due to the natural regression of the snows, or from the great number of people who've traveled that path in the last several days as the temperatures have warmed. They say that travel by carriage will be the only option to them on the morrow in that direction, though they worry for the mud. Some, having been cooped up so from the storm, have been seeking rooms in Paris, determined to spend a few days in the City. Yet others were going to attempt to return in that direction yet this evening." Erphan knew why the hoi polloi would travel, paying homage to the Vicomte, though Erphan thought Stephan would have little interest in such gossip.

Erik nodded his head. "I see. And in the other direction…the direction of Chauesser?"

Erphan smiled. "It is unfortunate, not many conversations were heard of travel from that direction, with the exception of two. Both had said they were exceedingly pleased to have made it into Paris that night for they worried that they may not have had they stayed along the way. The second was a large merchant who worried for the several delivery sleighs he'd sent off to cities in that direction. One can assume some might have indeed been bound for Chausser, though he did not state as much specifically."

Erik nodded his head. "Had they been overdue?"

Erphan shook his head. "No Monsieur, but he did mention if they'd not returned by the supper hour, he would assume they'd not be bringing the sleighs with them, but rather leaving them somewhere and returning by horse alone."

"I see," Erik said rubbing at his chin. He could not subject Christine to the possibility of an extended ride on horseback, neither could he take the risk that the sleigh become stranded. He looked resolutely at Erphan. "Sir, to what inn or tavern had you traveled to where you had opportunity to hear this merchant speak?"

"It was…" Erphan stopped, as Erik rose his hand.

"Please return there." Erik reached into the pocket of his jacket that laid across the end of the divan, retrieving a sum of bills. "I want you to find some item that you can purchase, that might be had at the merchant's shop. I trust you can find out who he was?" Erik looked at Erphan, a seriousness in his eyes.

"Yes Monsieur, I can," he nodded in affirmation.

"Very well, then go you to his shop, and in course of conversation find the man, or his manager, and ask casually of the sleigh's return. When you've found the information, return to me, and we shall decide then. In the meanwhile, suggest that JP ready the sleigh as if we were to depart, for with your return, a swift decision will have need to be made."

Erphan took the bills, tucking them into his leather pouch. "I shall do as you bid me sir." He walked toward the door, turning around as he reached it. "Is there anything that I might bring for you sir?"

Erik smiled, "no Erphan, that will be all." Erik in truth was curious about Christine's progress, but decided he was feeling well enough now to check on this himself.

XXXXXX

She laughed, "one really ought not find humor in such debauchery, but I must tell you, we'd no intentions, but somehow, we found ourselves, each a glass in hand, raising a toast to the coolness of the cellar!" She laughed a bit more. "Before long the bottle was empty, and he'd uncorked a second. We sat in that cellar until what we would find to be later as sunrise. The laughter! Oh my!" A great laugh rising from her belly. "Conversation ran the gambit from politics, to authors, to the paintings he'd done." The woman paused. "That very subject I dare say we spent quite a long while on."

Christine smiled, she'd not seen the humor in it all, and what had led the woman to her raucous laughter Christine couldn't really be sure. "What subject?" She asked.

"Well you of course!" The woman smiled widely. "You see my dear I asked him what it was about this girl, this woman, no face?" She began to giggle, then her face turned serious. "He told me he could never paint your face, for you'd never given him your permission to intrude." She sipped her tea. "You see that night we laughed, we cried, and we laughed again. I think the fruit of the vine put down a few of his carefully constructed walls my dear." She sipped her tea again and put the cup down in the saucer. "He said he could not paint your eyes for they were far too beautiful to portray with mere paint, that he would have needed dust from the stars in the heavens to light them to do them any justice. And your lips," the woman paused.

Christine smiled at her, was the woman blushing?

"He said your lips were perfect half moons, round and plump, and the color of the first budding pink tulip of spring. He said he could not paint lips that had not been kissed, for it would drive him mad with jealousy if anyone craved them if they saw them." She laughed, "my dear, that night I heard the whimpering of a love-sick puppy. Normally he was quite reserved, but that night, oh how he rambled!"

She reached out and took Christine's hand. "You see my dear, that night I told him that he should take all of those feelings and put them into music, that he could both rid himself of the suffering, and make quite a tidy little sum. All the taverns and the like craved new music, and if he could make something that no one had heard before, he'd certainly be all the wealthier for it!"

Christine gasped, Erik sell his music for a profit? She thought not…it was far too personal, far too… "So what did you do then?"

The woman began to laugh again. "He stood and began to sing for me, one of the songs that you inspired, something about a ripened apple, a muse, oh and some other thing, it was all very lovely, very lovely….until he decided to teach me…." She began to laugh again. "He was going to teach me to sing!"

Christine was laughing, not from the woman's words, but her actions, she was nearly broken up with laughter.

"We struck a bargain. I would teach him how to thread a needle and sew a button, and he would teach me to sing. So up the stairs we went, retrieving thread and needle, buttons, and a plate of gingersnaps. Somehow we ended up opening a third bottle of wine in the cellar, having once again retreated there to the take solace in the cool air." The woman grinned madly, leaning toward Christine whispering, "it wasn't a fair bargain at all, I didn't tell him I was tone deaf!"

Christine smiled from ear to ear, nearly so far her cheeks hurt. To a musician, hearing a voice that has neither tone nor proper note, was akin to hearing someone running their fingernails over a slate board. "So how did this play out?"

The woman laughed, "to be entirely honest, I have to tell you that I remember only bits and pieces of it. What I do remember quite clearly was Stephan humming, then singing. Later I remember him covering his ears, shaking his head, and the next I knew he had his hand over my mouth begging me to stop through his laughter, though I recall the pain in his face." She grinned, "it was quite apparent I was not a worthy pupil!"

She shook her head, a waive of laughter started again. "We both fell asleep in the cellar, leaned up against the wall, blankets behind us. He was the first to wake, and in truth it was his grumblings that woke me from a dead and painful sleep. When I'd managed to open my eyes, if my head had not hurt before, it soon felt like a splitting melon!" The woman laughed again. "You see my dear…" she bent over slightly slapping at her leg, "you see, I kept my end….my end of the bargain…I did teach him to sew."

Christine was laughing along with the woman, reaching out to touch the woman's shoulder.

"He'd…he'd…sewn an entire….an entire…" she laughed so heartily that tears ran down her cheeks, "oh my…he'd sewn an entire package of buttons….to his shirt!"

Christine was laughing now full heartedly. "Surely not…" she paused, thinking the question to make the answer all the more humorous, "surely not the shirt that he was wearing!"

The woman was nodding her head, "yes, and several more to his pants as well!"

XXXXX

Erik stretched to his full height on the divan. He had want to change into a fresh set of clothes, and yet not before he had chance to bathe. He could tell as much by his garments as his head that his fever had broken. He'd no idea what the woman mixed together in the brew, but whatever it was, it was worth suffering through drinking a pot of it. Now all that was left was an overwhelming tired, and the occasional sniffle.

The divan was far more comfortable than he'd remembered. He smiled. Nay, perhaps it was he that was far more comfortable on it then when last he'd lain there. He closed his eyes. The world was a far different place then when he'd paid his last visit.

The last visit he remembered well. He had been so unsettled, and she had been so reassuring. Her words resonating in his mind as if he was there yet again.

"Love knows no time table, it is but water rushing through a broken dam. Though you may slow it, channel it even, and try to put up a new dam, in time, love, true love, will find its way."

His brow drew in as he recalled his own words. "But what of forbidden love…unrequited love…love that is never clearly expressed…what of that sort of love." He smiled, she had been so patient.

"Love is love. Even if it is never known by the object of our affections, it does not diminish what we feel. That is the purest love…love for which we've no hope of ever having returned to us. When we love someone enough to allow them to be free…free from the knowledge we love them…because we want them to have a far better life…that is to truly love."

Erik's lips trembled, he swallowed hard. Oh how those words had cut him through. He'd shed tears over those words a number of times since she'd spoken them. It was in those moments when he had courage to face those words, that he'd nearly left Christine. If he truly loved her, he had to step back, step away, until she no longer sought him. Though she'd been like heroine to him, and try though he might he could not stop watching her.

One stretch of days, after a night of soul-searching he'd resolved to have a final lesson, and then disappear from her…it was the only way. He recalled that pitiful practice. He had been impatient as she'd tried to settle down. She'd had a rather exciting day with Meg and a few of the other girls. They'd gone shopping, and lunch, as they were all permitted to do for good behavior. Whenever she returned from those outings she'd never focus properly. He was frustrated when she'd drop a note, or when she began looking at the clock. True, practice had gone on for more than usual, and a great deal of review had been done.

He sensed her eagerness to finish, and it had hurt him. Didn't she know how important this practice was…her final practice…their final practice? Of course she did not, he'd chastised himself. He'd ended the lesson with the usual admonitions about rest and diet, drinking plenty of water, and remembering to breath from her abdomen as much as she could. When the lesson was finished he watched as she walked away, back up the stairs, the light of the candle disappearing from view, leaving there, darkness as his only companion.

He'd wept bitterly that night, sleeping in his coffin rather than watching her from the rafters. He would try to stay away from her. The first day he'd managed to occupy himself with tidying and sorting his work in the grotto. The second day was a bit more difficult, his resolve was weakening. By the third day he'd rationalized in his mind that continuing to watch her would do no harm. It was the third day that had done him in. As he followed, and she wandered from chapel, to library, to flower garden, searching, calling to him. It was sheer torture. By the sixth day she'd grown sullen, barely eating, incessantly gabbling to the other chorus girls about things of little matter. She cried herself to sleep at night. But what pained him most was to hear her whimper in her sleep, mumbling "what did I do, tell me…"

He could not take it. On the evening of the seventh day, weakened, having never been able to leave her for more than a few hours, he finally spoke. He smiled recalling the moment…oh how pleased she had been, her angel had returned. She'd cried, promising to be a dutiful student, an obedient pupil. Oh how painful it had been…how he'd longed to hold her. He pitied her, and loathed himself for it. If he truly loved her…why couldn't he walk away, let her have a normal life?

He lay on the divan, exhausted from the sheer memory of it. It had pained him to the core. The guilt all that long while had eaten away at him. He sighed, his eyebrow twitching. It had not occurred to him until that moment. Love had indeed found its way just as the woman had said. What a paradox, that though he loved Christine so much he'd wanted to let her go, he'd loved her enough to never let go. In his weakness he'd found the strength to hold on…for if he had not…none of this…this wonderful love…would have ever come to pass!

Erik turned his head, a wide smile crossing his face. He'd heard that laugh. The wonderful, sweet, innocent laugh that belonged to one woman alone.

He stretched once more, swinging his feet to the side of the bed. In that awkward position he felt a strange tug in his mid-section. He ran his hand over that part of his abdomen. It was the entry wound of the bullet from months before. Every now and again it was tender when he pushed on it, but today was the first time that it had hurt. Perhaps he had slept on it wrong, or all the riding on the horse the last week had been difficult. He felt a catch in his side as he stood. He would not baby it, nor would he over exert it. He longed all the more for time spent at leisure once they'd returned to Courtland Manor. He heard the laugh again. Whatever it was that tickled Christine so, he'd wander and find out.

XXXX

The two women were laughing so hard that neither had noticed the shadow cast by the man standing in the doorway.

"Surely that is not the most humorous story we've to tell her my dear lady! And in my defense, you'd been the one handing me the buttons!" Erik said, leaning against the arch, arms folded across his chest.

Christine and the woman startled, and though they felt somewhat guilty, even that did not dissuade their laughter.

"Oh my dear husband, do not worry…I can sew buttons…" she was laughing as she rose going to Erik slipping her arms about his waist, nestling her head in his chest.

Erik put his arms around her shoulder, kissing the top of her head. "Only the love of a wife would allow for such tolerance my dear. I fear my fever has broken, and now I am utterly unworthy of your affections in this state. I shall relish a bath when we return home."

Christine turned looking up into Erik's eyes, smiling widely as he looked down into hers. "I told you before, my love for you is not what I see when my eyes are open, but what my heart feels when my eyes are closed." She stretched up slightly taking his lips into hers just briefly.

"Ah sir, you are right…she is a romantic at heart!" The woman smiled in the direction of their voices.

"Did I not tell you she was wonderful?" Erik said to the woman as he scooped Christine up into his arms returning to the stool, placing her carefully on his lap. "Now dear lady, let us tell her a story of yours! Perhaps about the woman who thought she might pay for a dress with lambs…and she brought them to the shop, and they'd gotten loose, nibbling on your fabrics as I recall."

"That story was not funny young man, it took me weeks to trim off all that those little monsters did to my workshop! It was not funny in the least! You thought that to be humorous did you?"

Erik was laughing now too. "Humorous yes! Watching you chase down the lamb, pulling it by its tail….telling it you'd have lamb chops and a new wool sweater if he'd not cooperate!"

Soon they were all laughing. Tale after tale, coming out about the times they'd spent together. Somewhere during the next hours Christine took the opportunity to emblazon in her mind the glances, the laughter, the pats to the hand, the arm around the shoulder. This woman had given Erik far more than a place to recluse to when the Opera House became too much.

She looked back and forth between them as the kerosene lamp was lit, the cheeses and meats, breads and yes, a bottle of wine from the cellar laid across the table. There were several times that Christine was certain they'd not even known she was in the room.

The woman had given Erik hope in humanity. She had come to see him with her heart and not her eyes. Finally in the world, there was another person who could understand how she had loved him all those years…when her sight of him was no better than the woman's. She'd taught him to love, and in turn he'd given her the gift of his undivided attention, and help, much like a son would have. No doubt the bond was strong, for the look in Erik's eyes was vulnerable, relaxed, and content.

Erik glanced over at Christine, a tear was in the corner of her eye. "Whatever is it my dear?" A concerned look coming over him.

"I was just thinking, that right at this moment, there is no where on this earth that I would want to be then here with the two of you."

Erik kissed her cheek. "I couldn't agree with you more." Erik smiled, and he could almost feel something inside of him growing, or melting…perhaps it was the ice of self protection that had he'd so carefully fashioned around his heart. With these two women, he could be himself."

XXXX

She sat patiently by the window looking out at the City as the afternoon began to wane. Why had the man not yet returned? She sighed. Perhaps she was far too impatient, it had only been a little more than four hours, and even in good weather it would have taken the lion's share of the afternoon to accomplish his assignment.

She turned away from the window. She felt as if she'd spent half of her life waiting by that window, waiting for one man or another to return. She lifted the book again. She was checking over the lists. She'd poured over the details with Andre, but something felt to be missing. She sighed. Perhaps it was the nagging thought that she'd yet to find some way, some visible way that would both honor their new town hero, but not be too ostentatious so as to insult him, and drive him further from the position she one day hoped to encourage him to take.

What would it be? She paced back and forth on the floor. It would have to be something that all would share in common. Something wealth had no bearing on. Yet it needed to something that would inspire, something that would remind the citizens of the deeds he'd done…and as importantly, what they could accomplish if they'd but allow themselves to have the courage to do so. Oh, it eluded her, that one perfect thing eluded her.

Xxxxxx

Erphan was on his way back from the shop. It had taken a long time to do this one simple task. He'd had the news Monsieur Courtland was interested in. He'd had to listen to hours of dribble about a local hero Vicomte Raoul DeChagny. He'd not even known what the man looked like, but knew instantly, anyone who had to do something for such attentions would be an unattractive person, no matter what his flesh looked like. The news would be shared now, and the chips would fall wherever they may. To travel from Paris would be precarious, to not travel could be even more so.


	198. Newton's Law

**Chapter 198 Newton's Law**

_**Newton's First Law of Motion:**_

**_The first law of motion: an object at rest will remain at rest will remain at rest, and an object in motion will remain in motion, unless acted upon by an equal or greater force._**

Dear Faithfuls:

As we ramp up for Chapter 200, chapters 198 and 199 will be much longer than most. After Chapter 199 is posted, I will be taking a much needed hiatus from the story, though probably considered brief by some writers, it will be very painful for me to not touch the story everyday. I have several special work assignments that will make it nearly impossible for me to give this story its proper attention. To that end, I have something very special in store for you with the posting of chapter 199. Though it will not make up for having a new chapter appearing four-five times a week, my hope is that it will give you a renewed love for the story of POTO, and the tale that you and I have spun together in this work from the heart. You have all been a special part of my life for these last months, indeed we have become Phamily, linked together by the love of a story, and an ideal that love really can triumph over tragedy if one has the courage to try.

So, alas, chapter 199, will be the last chapter until Valentine's Day. Again, perhaps that does not seem long to you, but to me, it will seem like an eternity. I promise it will all make sense when chapter 200 arrives. Though I will be away from updating, that does not mean that the pen will not be to the paper, writing yet another chapter, with all of you in mind. I will try during my time away to answer any e-mails that you send, but I cannot promise.

And as they say, now on with the story…..

"Do come in," Misty said politely, welcoming the travelers from Chauesser. She smiled at the undertaker's apprentice, and politely curtsied to the man in the thick cloak and top hat. "Come sit in the parlor," she motioned for them to sit. "I shall be back in but a moment."

David and Patrick made themselves comfortable. Their cloaks had been taken by another maid who'd come in to collect them. Both men sat with notes in their laps. Anyone viewing the situation from outside would have thought it to be two would-be-suitors come to deliver their letters of engagement as nervous as the pair looked.

Misty soon returned with a silver tray, a pot of tea and a few sandwiches. "Gentlemen, I hope you do not mind my assumptions. It is very nearly the dinner hour and I'd not known how long you might be staying, do have a sandwich and some tea." She nodded as she sat the tray down in front of them, pouring each of them a cup of tea.

They thanked her kindly, and though neither were hungry after what they'd eaten at the tavern, they'd not be insulting her hospitality. Each took a sandwich on their plate.

"Now what is it that brings you two out from the City?" Misty was eyeing the envelopes on the laps of the men. She'd known personally that the account had been settled at the undertaker's, and the other man….he'd said to be there at the request of Lady C. She could not imagine what it was that would have brought them there together.

David was the first to speak. "I bear here," he lifted the envelope and handed it to Misty, "a note of thanks to your employer dear mademoiselle. You see, even in a City such as Chauesser, it is not often that accounts with undertakers are settled so swiftly. He, my employer, wanted me to convey his gratitude, and to…" words ran dry, how could he say anything more?

Patrick interrupted, diverting Misty's attention. "Andre said that he'd had the pleasure of making your acquaintance at the undertaker's earlier. He wanted me to convey his good wishes, and hoped that all was going well with the household in the Monsieur's absence."

Misty's eyes left David, now focusing on Patrick. She blushed slightly as the memory of the interchange between she and Andre. "Yes, bid him hello for me when you return."

Patrick caught the glimmer in Misty's eyes; he'd be certain to share that with him as well. "I too come bearing a note mademoiselle." He handed it to her. "I am instructed to have you read it, and carry your reply at my return."

Misty looked at the envelope. "Monsieur, the master of the house has not yet returned. It is possible that he may not for a day or more, I'd shared as much with Andre. I am afraid he shan't be able to reply until he returns."

Patrick smiled at her, putting his cup back in the saucer. "No dear lady, I've been instructed to have someone from his household open it. I believe that it is a mere inquisition, as the Lady would like to visit with him. You see, we've a town celebration in several weeks, and if you know of the customs of gifts that Lady C is prone to, you might understand why she has need to know so as to make final arrangements."

Misty smiled, "yes, yes, I've not been to the celebration, but I have heard rumor of it." In truth she'd felt somehow left out when she turned sixteen. All of the other girls had strings of pearls, and because the household was not firmly established in Chauesser, and certainly not there in April, she'd never received a strand of her own.

"Very well then." She slid her thumb underneath the wax, removing the seal. She slid out the note, the penmanship was beautiful, she glanced down at the bottom of it, her breath caught, what silliness…it was signed by Andre, and it made her heart beat just a bit faster knowing he'd penned the note himself. She read…..

Dear Monsieur Courtland,

Lady C would like very much to have a brief audience with you on the morrow. You may not be aware, but there is a rather large celebration that is just weeks off now. It would bring her much pleasure to include you and your wife, as well as your household in the festivities. If this note finds you to be unable to accept such a visit, please send reply with this messenger.

In sincerest regards, Andre

Misty sat the note on the table. Taking a sip from the cup. "I see." She sighed. "As I've said, I do not know when Monsieur Courtland will return, though one would have hoped that they would have already done so. It is my assumption that the changing weather may have made it difficult." She paused, how could she refuse the woman yet again? Her sentimental mind clouded her judgment. "Am I to assume that Andre will accompany her on this visit?" She'd really no idea how she could justify asking such a question.

Patrick blinked. "Why yes, whenever Lady C travels, Andre is her companion." He wanted to smile at the twinkle in the young woman's eye, but he would be discrete pretending he'd not noticed it.

"Very well then, do share with Lady C that there is possibility that the Monsieur and his wife would be home on the morrow, but do tell her that there is always the possibility that they will be waylaid and not arrive. If she wishes to visit, she may do so, but she might very well find them not here."

Patrick scratched at the back of his neck. How could he take back such an ambivalent answer? "Do tell me, have they traveled far that you would worry for their return?"

Misty nodded taking another sip from her cup. "Yes, they'd traveled to Paris to visit a relative who'd been injured. It is likely the weather that has delayed their return."

"Yes, we'd heard that the paths from Paris were melting rapidly." David interjected. Misty turned to look at him. "Two sleighs of goods arrived from Paris this afternoon. The drivers told tale of the slush that they'd driven through. They only hoped that they'd make the return trip without becoming stuck in the likes of it. Though I think they'll have little trouble perhaps as night falls as the temperature has dropped precipitously no doubt it will provide a much firmed surface to travel on." He said.

Misty nodded. She thought to herself, knowing Stephan, they would be home by not long after the sun rose. "It is so very good that deliveries have been made from Paris. I know that the Monsieur awaited some items that he'd ordered, perhaps they would have arrived on one of the sleighs."

Misty looked at both men, the question rising in her mind once again. "So how is it that the two of you both found your way here together?" It really was strange as they'd not business in common with the household.

"Mere happenstance dear mademoiselle." Patrick smiled at her. "I was at the tavern resting my horse, and this young man," he said slapping David along the back, "we struck up a conversation over tea. We decided to travel together lest one of our animals go lame, and in truth it is more agreeable to have company on a trip!"

David smiled too. He was released from his obligation to the undertaker, having done what was bid him. He could take back to the man what he knew, hoping to appease his curiosity for a time until Lady C could intervene.

Patrick glanced at David, "we best be off. I've a distance to travel beyond Chauesser I'm afraid, and I've much to discuss with Lady C when I return."

David nodded, taking the last bite of his sandwich, and a sip of tea. "You are certainly right. I've duties to finish at the…" his voice trailed. No one truly wanted to know what went on at a mortuary unless one was in the business of it. Taking barrels of blood out beyond the city to be burned was not a pleasant task, and certainly not one that anyone would want to hear about.

The trio rose, and almost on cue the maid reappeared with the gentlemen's cloaks.

"Thank you most kindly for your pleasant hospitality dear lady." Patrick lifted Misty's hand kissing it as if she were the lady of the house.

David was nodding, "and me as well." He felt oddly unfamiliar with the custom. It was one that was never engaged in his profession. The touch of an undertaker was likened to the touch by the hands of death. They'd long since given up the practice of greeting ladies with such formality.

"Gentleman, thank you for your notes. I shall see to getting them to the Monsieur when he returns." She turned specifically addressing Patrick as he donned his top hat. "Do be certain to tell Lady C of the possibility that they may not return, but that the monsieur's household would be glad to greet her on his behalf should she choose to take the opportunity to pay a call."

Patrick nodded, "I certainly shall." He turned to depart through the door that David had opened. He smiled, turning back to Misty, he couldn't resist. "And I shall be certain to convey your fond regards to Andre. I've no doubt he should enjoy accompanying Lady C on the morrow." He grinned mischievously.

Misty felt a bit flustered. She could feel her cheeks growing crimson. "I shall look forward to greeting the Lady, and her companion." She smiled trying to keep her most proper composure. "I do wish you gentleman a safe and swift return to Chauesser, and again, on behalf of Monsieur Courtland and his wife, I thank you for delivering the notes to us."

The two men passed through the door to be greeted by the stableman who'd brought their horses round from the stable behind. They mounted and departed.

Misty leaned with her back against the door. She was questioning her judgment. Had she misspoken, agreeing to have Lady C pay a visit only so that she might see Andre? In her gut she knew the answer, though she was ashamed for it. She'd never met anyone in her life that had that affect on her. She doubted she'd sleep a wink that night.

XXXXX

The propsmaster paced heavily back and forth in his quarters. Everything was readied. He withdrew his pocket watch, it was six o'clock, the very hour she was to arrive. He was worried that she would have changed her mind, gone back on her word. After all, she'd already received what she'd wanted from the bargain, and though it would not look good for her, to whom would he complain that she'd not come for their promised dinner? Who would have blamed her? He scratched at his chin, his usual beard now gone, he did so more out of nervous habit than anything. He had so very much to talk about, that his previous fear of boring the woman to tears was gone. Now he only hoped she would find pleasure in his hospitality, and feel relaxed and quite at ease while in his company.

There was a soft knock at the door. He spun on his heels, his chest swelling…she hadn't forgotten her promise!

The woman stood outside the door. She'd groomed herself, but not too finely lest she raise question by those around her as to her preparations. She hoped he would understand. She smoothed her hair back as she heard the footsteps toward the door. Inside her heart was beating fast. Why had she agreed to this? Oh what on earth would they talk about, and how long did he expect for her to stay? And what sort of meal would he have scratched together? She'd decided to be most polite no matter what he had made, for he'd done so with some effort she was certain.

As the door opened she was greeted by two things that surprised her. First the wonderful aroma, heavy laden with basil, garlic, and lemon; and a clean shaven face of a man! His hair coiffed behind his ears, a freshly pressed shirt.

"Do come in dear lady, dinner is ready, and I've much to tell you." He moved his arm bidding her to enter.

She smiled at him, "thank you," she said, as he closed the door behind her.

XXXXXXX

Nicole and the doctor sat quietly by the fire. They'd spent a lovely afternoon visiting, and aside from the tea her mother had had around three that afternoon, she'd preferred to stay in her room. She had been looking through old family letters that had been exchanged between she and her mother so many years ago. Nicole had listened to her softly crying several times, and had decided she'd not disturb her until she was ready for company.

"I'll have to be returning to work the day after next." She said looking up at John. He smiled at her. "My employer has been most gracious to allow me to be gone for those days." She glanced at him again, his smile still unnerved her.

"What would please you to do on the morrow then?" He said, sighing, shifting his body slightly toward her as he repositioned himself on the divan.

Nicole blinked heavily, was his intention to occupy her time until she returned to work? "In truth, I'd not even thought of it." She swallowed, clearing her throat. Having him sitting so close made it difficult for her to concentrate. She blinked before looking up into his eyes.

"Perhaps we could go and have a look at your grandfather's house? Then we will know what we've to do to prepare it for suitable living arrangements." She hoped that the idea did not make him feel less than welcome to stay with she and her mother. It only made sense. She'd not want to bore him with another afternoon of idle conversation of her childhood, though in truth she'd rather enjoyed listening to his! They'd both grown up rather quickly, but had come from entirely different households. Wealth did not always provide for an easier, or less complicated existence.

The doctor smiled at her. "I think that is a most excellent idea. Perhaps your mother would like to join us?"

Inside Nicole had a sudden pang of disappointment, and felt immediately remorseful for it. She had rather enjoyed having his company all to herself. "Of course, we shall offer it when she wakes from her nap."

Nicole rose going over to tend to the oven. She'd a small smoked ham baking, and the smell was heavenly when she opened the door. She looked at the crust of the pie, it had browned nicely, and she could see the cherry juices bubbling out of the vents she'd cut in the center. It would be a wonderful meal. She smiled again. She'd never had a man's help preparing a meal before, nor doing dishes for that matter. She closed the oven door, turning to call out to John that dinner would not be long off. As she did, she saw him standing not far from her. Though it startled her, she was not frightened.

"Come, come," he said to her, his arms outstretched.

She walked to his arms, not thinking twice. She slid her arms around his waist putting her head on his chest as he wrapped his arms carefully around her.

His words fell gently on her ears. "Yet another piece of sage wisdom from my grandfather."

She turned her head up looking into John's eyes with question.

He slid his hand up along her head, gently guiding it back to his chest. He rested his head on top of hers. He recited the quote for her, "never underestimate the power of a gentle embrace. It is often more potent and comforting than any drug, especially to a grieving heart."

Nicole smiled. She'd heard those very words from his grandfather himself when she was a much younger girl. It was right after her father had died, and she was so far away from him, and could not return. The doctor had paid a visit on she and her grandmother, embracing both of them, admonishing them to do so whenever they felt a wave of sorrow pass over.

"Your grandfather was a most wise man, I dare say ahead of his time." She said, closing her eyes at the warmth of his breath on her temple. He was right, it soothed her more than morphine.

XXXXX

Raoul woke with a startle. He'd have sworn he heard the door to the nearly dark room slam shut. He flung his covers from him and began to sit up when he'd felt a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder. Raoul gasped.

"Rest young man," the Barron gently pressed his shoulders back to the pillow. "You've only just now been able to lay on your back without moaning, let us not push the issue further by trying to sit right away." The doctor said, pulling the covers back up to Raoul's waist. He pulled over the chair he'd been sitting on by the window.

Raoul was blinking , his eyes feeling like someone had tossed sand in them. "Where is she?" Raoul had so many questions, he'd not know where to begin.

"Where is who Raoul?" The doctor said as he took Raoul's pulse.

"Meg, she was just here a few minutes ago…I must talk to her!" Raoul said with an anxiousness in his voice.

"Raoul, Meg has not been here for hours. She has been with her mother and Nadir at my request. She's to retire for the evening. I assured her that this time you'd not sneak out on my watch!"

The doctor turned up the light of the kerosene lamp. "Let's have a look at the back of your head shall we?" the doctor said as he helped Raoul turn to his stomach. Raoul yelled out in pain. "That pain that you feel comes from sleeping so many hours on your stomach with your arms above your head. I am sorry, I should have seen to putting your arms down. The discomfort will not last long Raoul."

The doctor put on spectacles leaning over Raoul's head. He touched the stitches lightly with a piece of gauze. It proved to be dry when he was finished. A very good sign that things were sealing up nicely. "Very good young man. Now as long as you stay in one place, and allow that to heal properly you will be fine. Your father is most eager to have you out and about in a few days time!"

Raoul looked at him confused. Where is it that he would like me to go?"

The Barron laughed as he began drawing a syringe. "Why to greet your adoring citizens. You have become something of a hero in Paris. With Crawlings dead, you've given them a renewed hope that the streets of Paris are safe to travel again!"

Raoul pressed his eyes closed. Had everyone gone mad? "Barron, you are as close to me as any member of my family, perhaps closer than some. I tell you the truth sir, it was not I who shot Crawlings! I beg of you to listen to me, to hear what I've to tell you."

The doctor turned from the syringe he held up, "what is it that you've to tell me Raoul?"

Raoul swallowed hard, "does no one believe me when I say it? Then will you not believe me when I tell you I saw the Phantom in his lair, that Christine might still be alive?"

Raoul's face was twisted in pain, but not of the physical sort, but the kind that emanates from the deep recesses of one's consciousness. "I fear…." He sighed, "that drug, that infernal drug…" Raoul looked up at the doctor with pleading eyes. "I fear that it gives me delusions…I hear things, see things that are not there…."

Raoul swallowed, he'd begun to wonder about his mind, oh what cruel tricks it played on him now. Was it fears that he'd tucked so far into his mind that wandered out now in delusional dreams of the most fantastic kind? He closed his eyes, pressing them hard. Meg could never, would never….she was far too innocent a soul to ever….he had to have imagined it.

The doctor inhaled, looking down, a sadness in his eyes. The blow to Raoul's head had been much worse than he'd thought. Now, with the additional injury caused by what he did not know, he worried gravely for Raoul. "Raoul, you've need to rest." He rolled up Raoul's sleeve, bringing the needle to his arm.

"No, I've no need for that medicine, it makes my judgment clouded, I am unable to respond to anyone when I've taken that infernal drug! I need you to listen to me, I fear I'm going quite mad! That cloak over there…"

The doctor glanced over to where Raoul pointed. He furrowed his brow. "What cloak Raoul?" For the chair was empty. The doctor scanned the room, there was nothing there.

Raoul inhaled a staggering breath, worry crushing in on him all the more. "The black cloak, the woman's cloak, the one that I…it was …" his voice trailed off as his lower lip began to quiver.

The doctor held Raoul's arm firmly, carefully sliding the shank of the needle just below the flesh. Slowly the potent drug flowed from the syringe into his vein, the medicine blending with his blood on its way to his heart. It would be pushed throughout his body with every beat of it. In large doses it could be lethal. But in smaller does, its ability to capture and hold the impulses of nerve and thought was certain to be sure. The doctor knew it was what Raoul needed most; to be free from all conscious thought until he was well enough to sort things out in his mind.

"You need to rest. I will sit with you and you can tell me anything that you like Raoul until you fall asleep." The doctor slid the needle from Raoul's arm, rolling down his sleeve. He lifted the blanket under Raoul's chest. "Here, have a few sips of broth. No doubt you'll be as hungry as a bear from hibernation when you wake in the morning." He lifted the cup to Raoul's lips.

He had a flash of the so many times he'd sat by Raoul's side as he'd grown from a small child into manhood. Somehow, in all the patients that he had, this one had a very special place in his heart.

XXXXX

Madame Giry closed the door to her bedchamber. "She rests now." Smiling as she came to sit on the divan across from Nadir. "I do hope that she sleeps until morning, the day has been most difficult."

Nadir nodded his head, "I do think her near fainting at dinner tonight is but a sign that Meg is in need of rest and recuperation, more peaceful perhaps than what Paris can offer her now. So much has happened here."

Madame Giry was shaking her head. "Meg is happy Nadir, for the first time in many years she is happy. Though yes, she is weary. A good bit of rest , I agree, would be favorable. Perhaps a long visit with Christine and Erik would be of good use, but she'd never agree to be away from Raoul at that length. Not now when he has risked so very much to be with her. Separating them now, I dare say, would be devastating."

Nadir rubbed his hands together, glancing down at the floor. He did not know how to properly bring this up. Perhaps there was no proper way.

"Tonight when you'd already gone to put Meg to rest, Andre and Firmin came looking for DeChagny. It seems this news of the Vicomte defending the City of Paris seems to have had amazing affects on the swell of interest with which the reopening of the Opera Populaire is being anticipated. DeChagny left not long ago with Andre and Firmin, promising to return later if he could, though I shan't think we will see him again this evening." Nadir looked up at her. "I'm afraid there is something brewing about a celebration of some sort or another in his honor." Nadir sighed, looking down again. "Their worlds are so far apart, yet their souls are so closely aligned, I dare say it will be a problem they will wrestle with all of their lives."

There was a moment of silent contemplation. Yet another crossroads…would life ever be quiet….normal?

Nadir sighed. "You see my dear, the baron is suggesting that Raoul recuperate at his vacation house hours from here. It is north of Paris. He fears for Raoul's mind as much as his body." Nadir gave Madame Giry a knowing look, "and I dare say we both know why."

Madame Giry nodded. She'd been privy to the details of what Nadir referred to. "Perhaps…no…well…"

"Ah, I see you are thinking along the same lines that I am. Yes, if Meg was to accompany Raoul they'd both go likely without protest. I know there would be question of propriety of course that would have to be breeched, but perhaps an escort for Meg could be arranged, someone who would rest in an adjoining room." Nadir looked at Madame Giry, a bit of worry in his eye. He could see it in her expression, where would that leave her? Surely she could not go with them, not with the Opera Populaire re-opening.

She closed her eyes briefly, swallowing, she straightened her spine, opening her eyes to look at Nadir. "This is the turning point is it not? The precipice we'd sooner avoid than face?" she sighed. "I knew one day it would come, but somehow I'd imagined it would be under more peaceful circumstances." She looked toward the sliver of the sun that blazed orange on the western horizon. "Yet another chapter in this life, come to a close." Her lower lids were brimming with a welling moisture as she glanced at Nadir.

He moved across the small distance, and came to rest next to her. "Antoinette, it pains you to see Meg go, but if they agree, what alternative do we have? Raoul needs to sort things out in his mind, and Meg, she too is burdened with thoughts. It would most certainly give them opportunity to make sure that their bond was not one of the moment and circumstance. If they spend, oh, a month or so at his northern estate, it would give them time for unrestricted visits, uncomplicated by the freedom from prying eyes." He looked at Madame Giry, her face was still receptive.

Raoul reached out taking Madame Giry's hand. "Antimonite, I wonder too…just as you might wonder…what is to become of us. Where do I fit in…where do you fit in?" He smiled at her as his eyes met hers, his thumb gently rubbing over the back of her hand. "We have served our purposes for all of them, have we not? Served them faithfully, loyally?"

Madame Giry felt a great lump growing in her throat. Every time Nadir touched her, she was reminded of how human she was…how very much she missed the simple pleasure of the sensation. She could say nothing, but nodded her head in response.

"You are needed here now Antoinette. The citizens of Paris will expect a spectacular performance when the doors finally open. You do not think that they could begin to do so without you!"

Madame Giry blushed, smiling at him, suddenly feeling a bit less like a mother and guardian, and more like the ballet mistress she had always been. "No."

"Then dear Lady, your place is here…here in Paris, in command of the chorus girls who are certain to be returning in the next weeks. I overheard Firmin telling DeChagny as much, that the letters to the former employees had all been sent."

Madame Giry looked concerned, her brow furrowed for a moment and then relaxed. They were the managers, they hardly needed her permission to contact their employees. Under the old regime a common courtesy would have been extended, telling her of the intentions to send posts. But with the new owners came a new way of conducting business…oh how it had changed the balance of everything under that very roof! "Letters, hmm, yes I suppose they would have sent them."

Nadir repositioned himself on the divan, sliding a bit closer to Antoinette. "My dear, Erik will not need me when he returns to Courtland Manor with Christine. He has a most competent and loyal staff that will tend to their every need. True, I will still have need to travel between here and there, but I will not be looked-for as I once was."

Nadir's eyes turned dark for a moment. "I've but one trip to make to the city I once called my home. My future no longer lays within those walls….my place is here." He paused for a moment, looking at Madame Giry until her eyes rose to meet his. His voice was sure and steady, "my place is here with you."

His chest was aching, for in that very moment this woman would have the ability to dash his hopes against the craggy rocks of uncertainty. He had to be brave…hope that he had not spoken too much in haste…but he could no longer afford to be coy. For if she'd no intentions, no inclinations as to their coupling, then he had need to step aside.

Madame Giry closed her eyes, her breathing now shallow. Could it be that she might have opportunity to think of only herself for a time…truly focus on what she wanted without concern for another? The possibility was both terrifying and exhilarating.

Her lips trembled as she opened her eyes, staring into Nadir's, wide and hopeful. She smiled, a tear disturbed ran quietly down her ivory cheek. She blinked, raising her hand to wipe it away. A single tiny gasp, a bit of a nervous laugh, she looked down and back up again into Nadir's eyes that had never left her. In that moment….he had his answer.

"Oh Antoinette," he breathed as he took her into a warm embrace, kissing her cheek.

Madame Giry rested her head on his shoulder, "Nadir I don't know how…what will we tell Meg?" She looked at him for the first time for advice for the young woman in her life whom she had shared sparingly with others in her life. Now it only seemed fitting that he should have some say in the matter.

Nadir slid his arm protectively around Antoinette, leaning back on the divan. "My dear, I think that Meg already knows." He turned his face, placing a kiss on her forehead that rested against his chest. "She has, for some months now, felt very much like a daughter to me Antoinette, but never more than she did today. For the first time, I had a inkling of what pride and love one must have for their child."

Madame Giry sighed, a relieved sigh. "I suppose she does know…" she paused, "in fact I do know what she thinks on the matter…she's told me as much."

Nadir smiled, shifting just slightly so as to look into her eyes. "And what has she said of it Antoinette?"

She returned his smile with sincerity, "she wishes for us to both be happy Nadir."

With his hand he gently nestled her head back into his shoulder, "and so we shall be dear Madame, and so we shall be."

XXXXXX

"Good night gentlemen," he said, nodding first to Firmin, and then to Andre. "I shall see to it straight away. I'll see you at tea on the morrow then?"

"Yes of course, and do wish him the best for us won't you." Firmin said as he nodded in return.

DeChagny nodded once more as the carriage driver closed the door, returning to his seat. DeChagny sighed as he walked toward the front doors of the Opera House. He knew well that the doctor would not be at all fond of the idea of moving Raoul now, but there was little choice. Word had spread that Raoul was not at DeChagny Manor, and since his entourage had been mulling about the Opera Populaire, there was heavy speculation that Raoul himself was in hiding there. If they did not act, and act swiftly, the place would be mobbed. He had already sent word back to Raoul's house. A sleigh of supplies, and a quintet of servants was no doubt already on their way to Plum house to ready it for Raoul's arrival. It would not yet be warm enough there, so an additional sleigh of blankets, rugs, and firewood would depart well after dark, lest it be seen.

He came to the front doors of the Opera House, opening them he walked inside. He'd only now to convince Raoul, to convince the doctor that this was the most prudent course until the reopening.

XXXXX

Erik and Christine still laughed over the stories that had been told. Somehow knowing that Christine knew of the woman, cared for the woman, made it so much easier for Erik. He'd not have to explain where he had learned certain things, or where he had gone during the absences in her childhood. The visit would have told her far more than mere words alone ever could have. As they tidied the kitchen, putting everything back into its place, they could hear the woman humming, she always seemed happiest when she was doing something.

The woman was happily tucking the last of the garments she'd made for Christine into the rather large satchel that she'd bid Erphan bring her before he left on his most recent excursion out into Paris. She'd not tell them of the gift for the children, she would let that be a surprise when they unpacked the bag upon their arrival home. She had begun to whistle a tune, a smile crossing her face as she whistled a bit louder.

"Your humor is not lost on us dear lady! I can see that unlike the wine, your ability to carry a tune has not improved with time!" He was laughing as he looked at Christine who had just wiped and put away the last tea cup. "It is the song that I had tried to teach her that night in the cellar." He shook his head, "how was I to guess the woman was tone deaf?" He laughed as he extended his arm to Christine. "My lady."

Christine slipped her arm into his as he escorted her from the kitchen. It had been a pleasant evening. They were waiting only for Erphan's return. His words alone would determine how the evening would end.

As they reached the entryway into the woman's workshop, Christine and Erik both felt it, a cool breeze around their ankles, the door to the service entrance opened, JP walking in.

"Erphan has returned, he shall be in but a moment." JP said as he walked toward the room that he and Erphan had occupied. He had everything with the exception of the last few satchels loaded into the sleigh as Elizabeth had instructed. He was dressed warmly and ready for whatever the Monsieur would decide. He nodded as he passed them. "I shall await your instruction Monsieur."

Erik nodded in reply. Now turning his attention to Christine. "Perhaps you would like to visit with the lady whilst I speak with Erphan?'

She knew he was being polite in making the request, for he'd have insisted if she'd refused. Something about his tone had told her that he would be making the decision with or without her blessing. She nodded. "Yes, I should like that very much." She reached up, placing a small kiss on his jaw and slipped into the woman's workshop.

Erik walked down to their room, pushing aside the curtains. He slipped on his waistcoat. He listened as a pair of boots came down the hall in earnest, a slight knock on the wall just outside. "Do come in Erphan." He said as he finished tying his cravat, turning to face the young man. "So what have you to tell me?" He gestured toward the chair that Erphan had occupied earlier that evening as he himself came to rest on the divan.

"Monsieur, I've done as you bid me. JP is even now loading into the sleigh what items I procured from the man's shop. I dare say I purchased a bit more than I intended so as not to appear to be standing about for the opportune time to speak with the shopkeeper!"

Erik nodded, that mattered little to him, he was certain that whatever Erphan had purchased would be put to good use. "So what say he?"

Erphan cleared his throat. "The sleighs have returned, and as we suspected, they had indeed gone to Chauesser and one small village along the way." Erphan looked down sighing, "I'm afraid sir, that if we do not travel tonight, there will be little opportunity for us to do so. The cool night air has allowed for some firming, but on the morrow, if it is as warm as it was today, there will be little snow cover left, making our travels nearly impossible by sleigh."

Erik leaned back. In his heart he had hoped that they'd have one more night with this woman, but his logical mind had told him otherwise. "I see."

"The mud already grows thick along parts of the path I am told. If you should prefer to stay, I can see to procuring a carriage, and plan for a return trip to retrieve the sleigh, I've learned that there are several…" Erphan stopped, Erik had raised his hand.

"There is no need, that would only further draw attention." Erik sighed. "All the preparations have been made, the packing now done. The sky has grown dark." He stood extending his hand to Erphan. "Well done young man." Erik looked over Erphan's shoulder, JP stood outside the room, a rather large red bloom in his hand. "And what is this?" Erik said, looking at Erphan.

Erphan turned to look, "ah yes, thank you JP, that will be all." Erphan said, much to JP's chagrin. He turned to Erik, extending the vase and stem. "This Monsieur, is an Amaryllis. I thought you might like to give it to the woman who has been kind enough to be our host. I understand that the flower itself is to convey that the recipient is lovely and worthy of honor. It is fragrant, and," he reached out running his finger along one of the petals, "it is soft and lovely." He smiled at Erik, "one not need eyes to appreciate the beauty of this flower."

Erik looked down at Erphan, a serious smile crossing his face. He put his hand on Erphan's shoulder. "You young man, remind me very much of another man that I know." He smiled at Erphan. "You've done very well, thank you." Erik took the flower from Erphan moving toward the doorway. "Please see to the final details then won't you?"

Erphan nodded, "it will be my pleasure Monsieur." He nodded, and found himself in the corridor moving toward the service entrance. If they left the City in the next hour or two, they'd be home in the morning, even with a stop to freshen the horses. Oh how he longed to sleep in his own bed! Though the trip would be long, it would be nice to be home again.

XXXXX

DeChagny knocked just once on the door to the room where Raoul lay resting. By the dim of the light he'd not be certain who he might find at his side. The doctor had instructed Meg to rest, but knowing this young woman, she'd be at his side. When there was no response, he opened the door. Surely enough, he had not been wrong. The doctor sat asleep on the chair not far from Raoul, and Meg herself was perched precariously in a chair, her head leaned on Raoul's chest. He chuckled to himself. If he had been a thief he would have been easily triumphant.

He walked quietly over to the chair where the doctor sat, carefully shaking the man's shoulder until he stirred.

The doctor sat straight up, batting his eyes trying to focus. He looked like he'd been woken from the sleep of the dead. He glanced over at Raoul, sighing in relief, then looking in torment at Meg. He looked back up at DeChagny.

DeChagny had a singular finger pressed against his lips. One hand on the doctor's shoulder, he nodded toward the door, he'd something to discuss with the doctor that would require a bit of privacy.

The doctor rose, following him through the door, stretching slightly trying to further wake himself. As he closed the door he looked at Raoul, his arm delicately draped over Meg's back as she slept. Could those two not be parted even when it was for their own good?

DeChagny led the doctor down the hall to the other end. He struck a match as they entered the gathering room, going over to the kerosene lamp that had been left in the center of the table. The doctor looked around, a fresh tray of coffee had been laid on the table.

"Sit sir, we've something to discuss, and though I respect your opinion, I want it to be known straightaway, that I shan't be changing my mind."

The doctor, still not fully awake could do little more than nod his head as he began to pour a cup of the hot brew.

"We are to leave Paris, tonight, under the cloak of darkness. It seems Raoul's efforts in slaying the last of the Crawling clan has caused quiet a clamor. I know sir, that my son is not well enough to greet the public no matter how genteel or adoring they might be, he is in quite a fragile state." He paused to look at the doctor, so far the man showed no signs of hesitancy, he would continue.

He poured himself a cup of the coffee. "Andre, Firmin and I have spoken sir, and since it will be perhaps a month or perhaps two before the first production is ready, we shall plan for a rather grand gala to celebrate both the reopening, and the efforts of my son. This will give us time to prepare everything for a production, and give Raoul time to recuperate." He ran his hand along the back of his head. He wondered what Raoul would think of the rather large patch of missing hair? Perhaps two month's time would help that as well.

The doctor watched as DeChagny rose from his chair and began to pace. The very thing which drove Raoul quite mad about his father, and even madder that he'd inherited the trait.

"I've no doubt that the citizen's of Chauesser have every good intention of being respectful, but the sheer number of them alone would not bode well for Raoul's recovery if he were to see them outside of his estate." He glanced up at the doctor, who was beginning to focus. "We both know what he thinks of such things as of late."

The doctor nodded. He shared in the same concern for him. "What is it that you are suggesting sir?" The doctor tiring of the polite banter, preferred to cut to the chase.

"I've things already in preparation. We will leave this night, by the service entrance. Certainly all will think it is simply me returning to Raoul's. But we are not traveling to Raoul's. We will take a rather abrupt turn once we are out of view of Paris. I've a sleigh on the ready to meet us in the small woods just beyond the stream."

"Yes, yes, I know it well, so what are your intentions?" The doctor said, secretly thinking that they may inadvertently been of like minds.

"The sleigh, one borrowed that bares no crest nor markings of nobility will then go North from there on to…"

"Plum house?" The doctor said, taking another heavy sip from the cup.

A wide smile crossed DeChagny's face, "you do not object then?"

"On the contrary sir, I could not agree with you more. Raoul is no more ready to be thrown head-long into the throngs of cheering Parisians, than he is ready to accept what he has indeed done. He needs rest, and if it means scurrying off into seclusion for a time, I could think of nothing more favorable for him sir."

DeChagny nodded. "Now of course, society would frown upon it, and I've not spoken to her mother, but what think you of the girl?" DeChagny shook his head, "how very rude of me, I'd rather made the assumption that you might accompany Raoul, at least for a time, if you can be away from the City."

The doctor was nodding. Yes, he'd other patients to tend to, and perhaps he could once a week make the trip back into Paris. His primary concern now was Raoul. "Yes, it would be beneficial until he's fully healed." The doctor looked down at his hands, then up at DeChagny. "Meg too requires my attention. Her recovery, while progressing nicely is not yet complete. But I could put her in the charge of another physician if it were necessary."

DeChagny looked at him, shaking his head. "I know my son sir. I know he will be more than agitated if he is to wake and find her gone. He will be certain that is some evil plot to which I've come in order to separate them. Perhaps, there is some way…"

"A suitable escort sir, perhaps Madeline if she can be spared?" The doctor said.

"But what of Madame Giry, she shan't have ever been away from Meg for more than a week at a time, and I've need for the woman here as we ready the dormitories for occupation." He scratched at his chin.

The doctor rose, feeling a bit more himself now. "I think the woman can be reasoned with sir. She knows of their affections for one another, and truly she longs for both to find happiness. Though she may miss her daughter, I think we could make good argument for the temporary separation. Meg is not ready to join her mother in the chorus, if that is what she wishes to do. It only makes sense that she would want to provide a safe haven for Meg until she is ready to make such a decision." The doctor laid his hand on DeChagny's shoulder.

The two men turned as they heard a soft rap on the doorframe. It was Nadir. They nodded as Nadir entered. "Good evening to you both," Nadir said, "I've something I'd like very much to discuss with you, if I might."

"Come, come, sit," DeChagny motioned toward the small table and chairs by the windows. "Yes, let us have a discussion, for we've an idea ourselves, but it would require swift action."

Nadir nodded his head, he was thinking the same thing. The swifter the flight from Paris for Meg and Raoul, the better.


	199. If Only

Chapter 199 If Only 

Dear Faithfuls:

Oh my, what a long, complicated chapter this will be to read. I tried so very hard to fit in a little something for everyone that I am afraid it may look a bit disjointed. I knew where I intended to end, but there was so very much ground to cover! Now I am off to concentrate on some very important work for the next week. I hope that when I return on Valentine's Day with a new leg in our journey that I will be able to bring you a bit of sense to all of this! Do take care of yourselves dear Phamily, and do not forget to look at the end of the chapter. Of course it will not be for everyone, but I hope that it will help you to fall in love with the characters all over again! Angel dreamer

The dinner dishes now washed and returned to the cupboard, her mother retired for the evening. She'd taken a glass of Chambord to her bedchamber; it would be her dessert. She'd bid them good evening under the auspices of fatigue.

When the heavy door closed behind her, Nicole's mother found herself quickly at bedside on her knees. Though she'd cry again that night, the tears would not be of grieving or remorse. She bowed her head and prayed.

"Dear gracious Lord in heaven, it is oft in the darkest hour that Your light shines the brightest. Through the fogs and the mists of my life You have unraveled and revealed Your mysteries, displayed Your benevolence and love. It is but one selfish thing that I ask, for one final thing that I implore you. Let her come to know a love that is true."

She rose from her knees; climbing beneath the quilt her mother had made her when she was a new bride. Pulling the worn fabric up to her cheek, she smoothed it across her skin. It had warmed she and her husband on many a cold evening. She smiled as she thought of the ivory quilt that her mother had made for Nicole. It was safely tucked away as a future wedding gift….a wedding that likely she would never see. "May she be as happy as I was." Reaching over, she turned down the lamp and closed her eyes. Perhaps she was more tired than she'd been able to admit, especially to herself.

XXXXX

John turned to Nicole. "Your mother has declined my offer to accompany us on the morrow Nicole. She would prefer to stay and sort out your grandmother's things." John said as he welcomed Nicole once more to the divan. He'd tended the fire and it was warm and brightly glowing before them. He rather hoped they'd have a long night filled with discussion as they'd had the night previous, for he'd enjoyed it so. It was rather like looking through a time scope into her past. One that his own grandfather would have seen. Now he'd come to know of it first hand through Nicole's own words. His grandfather had oft spoken admiringly of a young woman in Chauesser who was caring dutifully for her grandmother. John could only assume now that it was she.

Nicole smiled politely as she joined John. "My mother dear sir, has always been rather methodical. Whatever task need be accomplished she saw to it." Nicole looked up at him. My grandmother was quite the opposite I'm afraid. She was impulsive, and often aloof…at least until her last days." She smiled at him, "I, much to both of their chagrins, was not fully either impulsive or practical, falling somewhere in the middle. My grandmother had chided me that it made me a most difficult person."

She glanced at John as he patted her hand. "I was neither able to plan for a life, nor embrace what it brought me…never quite happy in either." She looked down at her lap. What was it about this man that allowed her to speak so freely? Something about his countenance, his genteel demeanor perhaps allowed these words to flow so freely from her soul. It was not merely that he seemed to listen intently, but rather that he was genuine in his care, seeming to understand the sentiment as much as the words.

"I see," John said as Nicole came to rest next to him. "It is perhaps somewhere between the two extremes that we all live Nicole." He smiled at her, "here, allow me". He reached across her shoulders drawing down a blanket to cover her lap. "You must be chilled, you're shivering."

Nicole nodded, "yes, thank you", she said swallowing hard. She could hardly tell him it was he that made her tremble…not a chill.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Patrick extended his hand to David as he dismounted his horse. He'd go in for a scotch before heading the remainder of the way to Lady C's. He knew she would not be entirely pleased with him, as the night had grown late, but he'd need to rest the horse for a few minutes. The trip back into to Chauesser had been a bit trickier to navigate. The once pliable snows and slush had begun to freeze. His horse had taken a good scrape on one of his legs and the stableman would see to mending it before he'd be on his way.

"Young man, do not worry." He said as he shook his hand while they walked toward the service entrance of the tavern. "Lady C will be most saddened to learn of the undertaker's impropriety I assure you. She's never taken kindly to the man as long as I've been in her employ, and this, I am certain will only further her dreadful opinion of him. Her association with him was merely out of necessity. If there is anyone within this City that can make something of this situation, it is she."

He patted David on the shoulder as they walked along the path toward the tavern. Abruptly he turned him about grasping both of his shoulders. "Do not think that your faithful service as an apprentice to this man has gone unnoticed. She's heard of your compassion with the citizen's and your attempts to intervene with the man when he is being, shall we say, less than honest? I've heard Andre speak of it to her."

David looked down at his feet, humbled by the man's words. He'd not thought anyone to have noticed his attempts. Venturing to be a man of honor in the servitude to such a scoundrel had a rather sullying affect on one's reputation he was certain. In fact, he quite feared the opposite. Thinking that he was looked upon as no more than a henchman for the undertaker…an extension of that disreputable man. To know that someone had noticed that he was not at all the same breed was in and of itself a comfort to him.

Patrick looked down at David, a sudden sorrow washing over him. David was the same age as his son would have been, had he lived. There was not a day that went by that he didn't think of him…his only child. "David, look up young man", he said with a serious tone.

David's eyes rose to meet his.

"Lady C will find a way to rectify this, I assure you. It is but one in a long string of travesties for which this man has been notorious. If he were snooping about for truly noble reasons, to rid the City of a plausible threat, that would be one matter. But knowing the character of the man, he is doing it only for the attention it would garner him. In that there can be found no honor."

The pair nodded as they entered the tavern. In but an hour's time, each would be at their respective homes, their respective duties having been fulfilled. Their meeting had been but chance, their conduct had been dutiful. The outcome….it was fated.

XXXXXXXX

The tearful goodbyes already said, the seamstress listened as Stephan lifted Elizabeth into the sleigh. "I shall miss you terribly. I do hope that it shan't be yet again months before you bring your wife for a visit Stephan!" She said chidingly, knowing, he would likely be even more unpredictable now that he finally possessed the object of his affections. She sighed. Her happiness was tempered only by the regret that he had suffered so along the journey to find his true love.

Erik tucked Christine in on all sides. Her eyes were damp, fresh tears clung to her lashes as she reached up with her gloved hand pushing them away. He placed a delicate kiss on her cheek.

"Do not worry my love, the woman and I are accustomed to this routine. It pains you only to see it now as it is unfamiliar to you, but I assure you, all shall be well. He looked her directly in the eye, running his index finger under her chin. "Smile for me won't you?"

Christine leaned her cheek into his palm kissing it. "I shall always smile for you my love." Inside she knew she'd been smiling because of him over half of her life. She tried to put on a brave face for his benefit.

Erik stepped down from the sleigh, walking over to the woman he took her about the waist hoisting her into the air and twirling her around until she begged him to stop.

"Your behavior has not improved sir! You should know better than to do that to a blind woman!" The pair began to laugh.

Erik leaned over and whispered something in the woman's ear, placing a kiss on her temple. A sad smile washed over her face. "Take care my dear lady, until we meet again!"

She called out to him as he walked away, "parting is such sweet sorrow!" The verse making both of them smile.

Christine sighed, a quiet, staggered breath passing from her lungs. The bond was undeniable, nearly palpable between he and the woman. However it had grown over the years it was no doubt born out of mutual need. It was likely the closest thing to love that Erik had ever experienced.

Erik joined her in the sleigh, nestling in next to her as they watched the woman feel her way along the wall going back inside. She'd no need to stay and wait. She could not watch their departure, and their watching her would not even be within her frame of reference. How could one understand waiting and watching until the last possible moment one is parted if one has never had benefit of having the mental image of the last glance emblazoned permanently in one's mind?

Christine nestled her head into Erik's shoulder. He reached over her, pulling the curtains on the side of the sleigh nearly closed on her side. He'd leave a sliver open for her to see out, but admonished her not to put her face too close to it. As far as anyone would be concerned, they were simply another family on their way out of Paris, while departure was still possible.

XXXXX

"That is the last of it sir," the footman said to DeChagny. "Very well then, we best be off. We've a bit of a journey ahead of us young man. He climbed into the sleigh. The doctor already had Raoul settled into the seat across from DeChagny. The doctor would hold Raoul's head for the duration of the ride, making certain it was neither bumped nor jostled. Raoul would be most confused when he awoke. He'd not so much as flinched when they'd carried him down the back stairs. Now all they waited for was Meg.

"Mother," Meg was crying. "I shall miss you mother, please, if you can, come for a visit." She embraced her tightly whispering in her ear so quietly that her mother barely heard her. "I shan't be able to lose another of my family." Though Meg's words were sincere, she knew in her heart that she and her mother would be parted at length.

Madame Giry was torn. Endeavoring to be the proper ballet mistress for the benefit of the others, but quite on the other hand, she was saying goodbye to Meg for the longest period she'd ever been away from her since her first breath! She did not know if she could bear it, but knowing she must. This arrangement was the only plausible solution to so many things. It simply had to be.

She took Meg's hands into hers. "We must be brave now my dear. It is only for a little while we shall be parted. I'll be no more than an afternoon's carriage ride away if you need me my dear. I promise I shall come for you whenever you need me." She glanced back toward the sleigh. "Madeline will see to taking care of you. This time will be good for you and Raoul, you'll see!" She was trying so very hard not to cry.

Meg slipped her arms around her mother holding her as tightly as she'd ever done in her life. "You care for yourself, and for Nadir." Meg pulled away just slightly looking at Nadir. She reached out grasping his hand tightly. "There is so very much I'd like to say to both of you, and in time I may very well. But for the moment, know that I love you both very much, and I pray that you can find comfort in one another's company."

DeChagny cleared his throat. It was time for them to depart.

The footman took Meg's hand as she climbed up the few stairs into the sleigh. "Goodbye mother….Nadir…". she lifted her hand toward them, and then put it over her heart. Madame Giry did the same. It had been their silent way all of the years at the Opera House when crowds swarmed around…they could express their love for one another with nary a word breeching their lips.

As the sleigh slid off into the moonlight, Nadir slipped his hand into Madame Giry's. He leaned over and kissed her temple. "Our princess is off my dear lady. No finer a young woman could ever be, than the one who is willing to sacrifice her current comforts for the future of the man she will one day marry." He smiled at her preciously, pulling her arm around his waist, turning her towards him. "My dear, now it is your time. It is your turn to be cared for." She looked up into Nadir's eyes. "And I dear lady, shall be here with you every step of the journey." Nadir took Antoinette carefully and fully into his arms. The pair stood, utterly alone in the pale glow of the waning moon. For the first time her response was not divided attention, nor reserved properness, but that of a woman who was welcoming home her own promise of a future happiness.

XXXXXXX

The undertaker settled into his bed that night a satisfied man. Though he'd have preferred that David had brought him more information, at least a line of communication had been opened with the young woman. Now perhaps as he suggested, under the guise of courtship, David could learn even more. This mystery, he was certain, was far darker than one might ever guess. And he alone would profit in the finding of it. If not monetarily, he would no doubt, go down in history as a legend in Chauesser. One who found a scoundrel and rid the City of him before he could wage his great deception on it.

He rolled over looking out the window into the darkness. For most the darkness brought fear, anxiety, loneliness. For him, it was his ally, and oft his only friend. Early to bed had long been his practice, for one never knew when one would be woken from the dead of sleep, to take care of yet another who'd passed from this world into the next.

XXXXXXX

Lady C had put down her cup. She rose, walking over to the window looking out it lamenting. Andre glanced at Patrick who was readying himself to speak. Andre shook his head. He knew her reactions well enough to know she was merely trying to absorb what had been told her. They waited several minutes in torturous silence, and then she turned to address them.

"You've done well sir", she nodded to Patrick. "It was most wise of you to carry such news back to me." She walked staidly toward them taking her place once more in her chair. "It is little known, save Andre and several others, that I had a hand in bringing that man here. The responsibility for his being in this City is mine alone. I'd though him a rather beguiling man when I'd met him on a visit to Paris. He'd been an apprentice at one of the undertaker's in the City and I'd encouraged him to join us in Chauesser." She shook her head, glancing toward the fire. "If I were given opportunity to revisit my actions, I'd have chosen a different path, but alas, one can do little to alter the fabric of one's past." She turned resolutely to look Andre in the eye. "You must find the papers that were drawn Andre, I do think it is time to call in the loan."

Andre looked at Patrick, and try though they might to stifle them, slivered smiles grew on their cheeks. Patrick had spoken the truth, and now Lady C would right the wrongs that had been done by this nefarious journeyman. Clearly there was a trained apprentice who could take his place. Lady C could see to the finishing of his apprenticeship, though it likely mattered little if he were to stay in Chauesser. Patrick had promised David, but even this was more than he'd ever hoped for.

"The call shall be delivered on our way to Monsieur Courtland's. We shall arrive just after morning tea." She said and then turned back toward the City of Chauesser. "It has been my life's work to guard the citizens of this City. My only regret is that I'd provided temporal injury with this man's presence. But on the morrow, that too shall be healed."

Andre and Patrick were on their feet sensing the verbal exchange was at its end. "Until the morrow then dear Lady." Andre said, he and Patrick bowing their heads just slightly as they stood awaiting their dismissal.

She walked toward Patrick, standing before him, she issued a stern admonishment. "Sir, this day you've been privy to the most private matters. It is my hope that you will take this honor with great sincerity, guarding the knowledge with the utmost care." She glanced at Andre; he already knew this lesson well. "It is in your faithful service that you shall be further trusted at Andre's discretion should this arrangement have a suitable end."

Patrick nodded, his head down as he replied. "Yes my Lady", he looked up at her, "you may rest assured that it shall remain as private as you would have it."

Though she did not smile, her stern expression eased just a bit, "very good then, good night gentlemen. We shall be ready to leave after breakfast then." She turned to Andre, "and the sleigh shall have all that I've directed will it not?"

Andre nodded, "yes my Lady, it shall be as you've instructed".

The men, now dismissed, turned and departed.

The doors pulled tightly closed, Lady C walked over to the large window again, looking down on the twinkling lights of Chauesser. Something about what would happen on the morrow felt right in her gut. She'd sensed the man's impudence on several occasions, but had made nothing of it as long as his service was completed. Now, with proper evidence in hand, she felt justified in her actions. He was not a man of honor, and Chauesser would be all the richer with his departure.

She sighed, turning away from the window, a smile gracing her face. When the sun rose, and they'd passed by the undertaker's, there would be a happier lining to the silver cloud of the morrow. She'd finally meet the man who she'd heard much about. She'd a good feeling in her gut that he would somehow be there when she arrived to pay her call. A good sturdy family of honor coming to the City would be nothing but an aid to her cause. She laughed at her own thought. If all turned as she envisioned, then Chauesser would be guarded on two sides, she on the North, he on the South. It would be like a city from a grand fairytale!

She walked to the door, sliding it open she found no one there. As she passed down the hall to her bedchamber, she thought to herself how very much like a fairytale living in Chauesser had been to her. It had held her greatest happiness and her greatest sorrow. If one were ever to write a story of it….a dark adventure it would be. Great happiness and love, torment, and lament…a fairytale of the most enchanting kind, with an ending not yet fully writ. She moved into her room, a nights rest awaited her, though she wasn't certain that she'd sleep for the sheer anticipation of the promise of the morrow.

XXXXXXX

Erphan and JP settled into a comfortable pace as they drew the sleigh leisurely through the City at Stephan's behest. He wanted as little attention drawn to them as possible. Erphan had no question in his mind as to Monsieur Courtland's intentions, though he still carried the folded poster in his breast pocket, not entirely certain even why he'd kept it.

Erphan squinted his eyes, was that another sleigh moving in their direction? He smiled. Perhaps Stephan's thoughts on travelers trying to leave the City were indeed correct. Erphan would pass slowly; even have a bit of casual conversation all in the name of propriety.

Erik had Christine in his arms. He'd been gently caressing her stomach. It had gone sour perhaps the emotions of leaving the woman, and the City of Paris behind yet again, was more difficult than she'd been prepared for. His head turned upwards as he felt the sleigh begin to slow. He wrapped on the roof.

"Its another sleigh sir", JP said having leaned down toward the compartment that Erik and Christine rode in.

Erik's breathing increased. His sword was beneath the seat, though he doubted he'd have need for it. It was merely a chance encounter no more. Bidding Erphan to drive on now would only raise suspicion. He'd be patient as the drivers had their exchange. He was certain that Erphan would be brief. The sleigh pulled up directly next to one another. Erik could see the lacquered sheen of the window sill not an arm's length from the window by Christine. It was no doubt of fine craftsmanship. He looked at Christine who was in the silence of fear's grip.

"Breathe," he whispered in her ear. She let out her breath.

She leaned carefully toward the small sliver that parted the curtains. She too could see the moonlight glinting off the shiny lacquer of the carriage, but as she leaned forward, her breath caught in her chest. She turned, a look of terror reigning in her eyes. "Erik!" She gasped, sliding closely into his arms away from the window.

"Christine, do not worry, we shall be…" He stared down at her. She was motioning for him to look. He leaned over her slightly, barely pushing the curtain aside in the slowest, ever slightest of motions. As his eyes traveled down from the sill to the center of the carriage, he quickly realized what caused the fear he saw in her eyes….it was the crest of DeChagny! He released his hand from the curtain, it open just slightly more now than it was before. He leaned back, taking Christine into his arms. His mind raced, the hatred and confusion of the last days playing through his mind in a blur. Would it be Raoul? Would it be Madame Giry and Meg, or perhaps the elder DeChagny, or another guest making use of the sleigh? It mattered little. In but a few minutes time they would be on their way, all threat behind them.

Christine buried her face in Erik's chest. He drew his cloaked arm around her protectively. He was, as always, ready to die for her if it were required. Silence now was their only friend. He watched through the sliver as he listened to Erphan and the other driver exchange what news of weather they'd had, and the direction of their travel. Erphan had purposely given false direction, much to Erik's pleasure, and was even now listening patiently to the advice of the other man who, as fate would have it, had just come from that direction. Erik sighed. The longer they sat the more question grew in his mind who might be in that sleigh. He could only imagine the occupants of the other sleigh would be doing the same. As he sat watching, like a guard on duty, his eyes caught the slight outline of a tiny hand pushing aside the curtains that covered the other window. It was small and feminine, and if he'd not known better it was that of….his eyes grew wide as he saw an ivory cheek next to the glass looking over at their carriage…it was Meg!

Erik drew in his breath. His first inclination was to tell Christine, but he feared she'd lose her good senses and press her face against the glass. He'd no doubt of it. He saw Meg's eyes searching the carriage window. He watched carefully as Meg's eyes wandered further up to the driver of the carriage, and her eyes grew wide as they flew back to the window across from hers. Erik knew in that instant that she'd recognized Erphan, her eyes even now were boring with keen curiosity at the bit of glass that separated them. Erik watched with pity in his eyes. He could tell by her reaction, that she was not alone in the carriage, though her stare had changed to some hope that she'd have affirmation that it was they that rode in the carriage. Erik looked down at the top of Christine's head, he had to tell her. Slowly he lifted his cloak, whispering into her ear as he gently slid her up so that she might see Meg. A great tear ran down her cheek. She could not expose herself, but slowly, her hand rose to the window, her palm lightly pressed along the pane. Christine watched from the shadows as Meg's face began to register the sight of it. A great swell of tears grew in her eyes, as she raised her hand to the window too. Though they could not see one another's eyes, they knew in their hearts.

Just then Erik heard the crack of a whip, and the sleigh lurch forward. They were off yet again. Though he was relieved the encounter was over, his heart ached for Christine who was now silently weeping. For he knew not when next she might see Meg…if ever she would.

XXXXX

Meg looked around the carriage. The doctor was tending to Raoul, repositioning his head in his lap. DeChagny, to no surprise had fallen asleep during the wait. She sighed, closing her eyes, she leaned her head back into the corner. If the doctor no doubt would assume it were the thoughts of missing her mother that concerned her.

As sleigh rode away from sleigh, the distance ever growing between them, it was as the two young chorus girls had once dreamed. Two princesses riding off with their princes to far off lands. Though separated by time and measure of earth, they'd be joined by hearts forever.

XXXXXXX

Pyotr and Sebastian had procured two horses. They'd leave in the lingering twilight. They'd several large leather satchels, and tethers with which to secure several more boxes and larger frames. True they weren't moving the items far, but they'd need to move quickly if they were to secure what they needed before the sun rose.

They'd received word from one of their buyers that they'd be arriving in Chauesser on the morrow and they'd best have the goods for which he'd already paid half the sum. Had the man not been their connection for a much larger audience, they'd have ignored his bidding in the face of prudence, for they risked a great deal coming on the man's property when it was occupied. They'd no choice in the matter now. It was either be prepared for the purchaser or be on the run as fugitives, months of work lost. For without the intricately woven arrangement of buyers and sellers that they'd worked so long to establish, they'd have to start over again. This time, they'd have to run a great distance, for the Sultana's reach was notoriously far.

XXXXXXX

Meg winced as she climbed from one sleigh to the other in the dark of the woods. The wind was bitter and biting as it swirled beneath her cloak. The other interior had been warmed which she welcomed greatly as she climbed in, realizing that it was much larger than the last, no doubt designed for a much larger contingent than what now rode in it. She watched as DeChagny and the other men carefully lifted Raoul into the sleigh. Had the doctor known that they'd be traveling as they were, he'd likely not have given Raoul such a slumber-inducing dose, but he'd wanted rest for the young man. As the doctor was seated once again opposite her, she looked as Raoul's father covered him with a blanket. In his own way the elder man loved his son, for if he did not, he'd not have gone to such lengths to protect him. He lingered for but a moment over Raoul's sleeping figure, cleared his throat but once, as he put his hand along Raoul's back.

"Take good care of them," he said to the doctor. The doctor nodded, it went without saying that he would. DeChagny turned to Meg looking her in the eye. "Mademoiselle, it is with sincere appreciation that I convey my wishes to you. I do hope you find that your time spent with Raoul at Plum house will be most pleasant." He looked down, and up again into her eyes. "Raoul is most fond of you my dear, he believes you to be the one his mother spoke of before she died", he looked at Raoul, "God rest her soul", he turned back to Meg. "If it is so, then may God see fit to bring the two of you much happiness, and I shall look forward then to a rather important announcement when the two of you return to Paris my dear." He patted Meg on the knee and closed the door.

Meg could not breathe. She batted her eyes, had her ears deceived her? She glanced over at the doctor who smiled at her.

"You see child, he does love his son. And alas, though his reputation is deserved, he does have his moments." He glanced down at Raoul, then back up at Meg. "He wishes only the best for him you see, and though society would have him paired with a member of some other wealthy family, I think his father has begun to realize his son's happiness is worth far more than social posture. If anyone could break from the traditional arrangements, it would be he. And for the first time in as long as I've known the man, I believe he is willing." He smiled at her as the sleigh began to glide along the snow on its path to Plum House. "Meg, should this man become your husband, and that man your father-in-law, they will protect you fiercely from whatever whispers may pass. Of that you can be most assured. Rest now my dear; we've a journey ahead of us. Then you and I can spend time getting this young man well." He smiled at her once more as he leaned his head back, though he'd not rest. His charge now, at least for the next months, would be in seeing to Raoul's welfare, and he'd not miss a single thing.

Meg leaned her head back closing her eyes. A year ago life had been so uncomplicated, and she yet to be suited. Yet tonight, here she was escaping Paris with the most coveted man in the City, and now a hero no less. If fate, nay, if God had brought her thus far in the whirlwind, she'd trust she'd be delivered the remainder of the way to whatever destination was laid for her.

XXXXXXX

Erik was holding Christine carefully as she lay half reclined in his lap. She'd fallen soundly asleep after the stop to water and rest the horses. Now the sun was shining in through the curtain he'd felt safe in parting. They were not long now from the winter house. He longed for a good hot bath, and a proper meal. Not so much for his own sake, but for Christine's. He'd barely slept though he'd felt in good care with Erphan at the helm of the sleigh. He'd somehow remained too keyed to rest. As long as they were in motion there was danger of being discovered. Once they were inside the winter house he would relax and rest. His side still hurt a bit, though he'd no doubt a good soak and stretching out fully in his own bed would do him well.

XXXXX

Lady C walked down the narrow path back to her sleigh. She nodded to Patrick who'd made his way back to the sleigh just prior to her and Andre's return. His nod told her that David's care had been seen to, that he'd not have worry for encountering the man again before he left the City.

"It is finished, the man will be out of the City by the end of the morrow sir." She said to Patrick as she climbed into the sleigh.

Andre handed Patrick a small leather bundle tightly wound. "This sir is the deed to the property. You're to stay in the City with David until you are assured that no attempt is made on his life by this man, as he did not take well into being leveraged to leave. He is to have one open sled and a single horse of his choosing and nothing more when he leaves. Once you have been assured by the sentries that he is indeed gone, Lady C wishes you to help the young man move into his new quarters. You are to take this letter and these funds to the inn where the two of you will stay until such time it is all finished. Have you any questions?" Andre looked at Patrick.

"Andre, I'd not brought, not anticipated…" Patrick grew quiet as Andre was nodding his head.

"You're to go to the mercantile and put on account anything you need for several days stay. Tell them that I shall be in to settle the account with them if they've any questions, though I doubt they shall."

Patrick nodded, taking what was handed him. "Very well sir, and I thank you."

Andre tipped his hat. "It is a noble thing to see to righting a wrong, and today sir, you've witnessed her love for this City first hand. For she is as a mother bear when it comes to Chauesser and its well being. Remember it well, it is what makes me so loyal a servant to her." Andre patted the man's shoulder. For the first time the man could understand Andre's sincere appreciation for the woman.

Soon Andre and Lady C were covering the distance outside of Chauesser on their way to the Monsieur Courtland's house. Lady C seemed to be relieved and an anticipatory glint was in her eye, the first Andre had seen in a long while.

"It shall be a good visit, I can feel it." She said as she glanced at him and then back out of the window. The sun was beginning to shine brightly. It was a new day full of promise. One by one, she was putting behind her things that she'd long been haunted by. Now there was hope of something new and wonderful on the horizon.

XXXXXXX

There was a rap on the top of the sleigh. The doctor shook his head slightly. Try though he might he'd not been able to stay awake. He pushed the curtain aside, immediately wincing at the bright sun. The frost on the window was opaque, obscuring his view. He rubbed at with his fist until he'd a small opening through which to peer. He smiled. The house yes, was considerably smaller than DeChagny Manor, but held such sweet memories for Raoul. He'd no doubt that time spent there amongst his mother's things would do him well. There was smoke billowing in the frosty air from the field-stone stack in the center of the house. He knew it meant every comfort no doubt had been tended to throughout the night. He wouldn't mind having a hot cup of coffee just now, and a good stretch. Though the sleigh was comfortable and roomy for the three occupants, he'd relish the comfort of a true bed. He watched the house grow larger and larger until the sleigh pulled along to the front door. The stoop had been shoveled, and a welcoming wreath of bitters was on the door. He knew before it even opened that Madeline was certain to be among them.

He glanced over at Meg who was stretching, having been caught, she apologized. "Nonsense Meg. Here you may be at your leisure. I assure you."

She smiled at him, and looked down at Raoul. "Will he sleep much longer?"

The doctor looked down at Raoul. "Not once the chill of the air hits him. That I am most certain will wake him, though he will be a bit groggy. We'll try to get some breakfast into him before he's put to rest. By this afternoon he'll be ready for a visit. You shall have the lion's share of the day to settle into your new quarters. Whatever was left behind that you might require can be sent for later this week. DeChagny will pay us a visit once things are a bit more settled. He'd very much like to visit each Sunday for a family dinner." The doctor was beginning to wiggle out from beneath Raoul.

The door opened and in reached a hand. "Mademoiselle", he assisted Meg out onto the pristine snow. It was a bit colder there, and the snow cover was a bit thicker, and virtually undisturbed aside from the precision like paths that had been carved in the snow for sleigh and animal. "Welcome to Plum House," said the young man.

Meg's eyes were wide. The house looked like something out of a storybook she'd once read. Large colorful shudders, the walls made from fieldstone looked like large lumps of sugar tumbled and stacked one on another. The room looked like a gingerbread house, and the chimney rising from the center completed the picture in her mind. She smiled. "Thank you." She nodded politely to the young man. She'd not seen him before, but his kind smile assured her that he would be most pleasant. Her eyes traveled up the pine-hedge lined walk to the front door.

There stood Madeline. Flour on her apron, arms open wide. "Come, come, tea you like in pretty china. Raoul's mother, her favorite, come, come." Madeline was waiving her arm to Meg.

Meg smiled widely. It was like a fairytale. She walked into Madeline's arms, a warm embrace. The woman smelled of orange and cinnamon. No doubt she'd already been busy setting things in order. Once inside Meg's eyes began to wander. It had a warm and homey feel, though still elegant and well appointed in its own right. She'd love to hear the story behind the house and its furnishings…but there would be plenty of time for all of that. She turned watching as Raoul was ushered in the door, one arm over each the shoulder of the doctor and the stable master. He was mumbling something as they brought him up the stairs on his way to his bedchamber.

Madeline watched as a concerned look came over Meg. She reached out and touched her hand. "No you worry Miss Meg. He do happy here. All his mother's things, you see. Father could not have, made him sad. He send here, Raoul very happy when he come here." She patted Meg's hand again. "Come, come, tea hot, crumpets get cold."

Meg watched until Raoul was completely gone from sight and then turned to Madeline, giving her a proper embrace. "It is so good to see you Madeline."

"You Miss Meg", she smiled, pushing a hair out of Meg's face, "you Raoul's angel sent from mother…I know it".

Meg reached out and touched Madeline's hand. She could only hope that the woman was right…time would tell.

XXXXXXX

Pyotr and Sebastian watched from the woods behind the winter house. There had been far too much hustle and bustle going on in the yard to ever even make attempt at traveling into the stable. They'd not planned to be much longer, lest the man arrive in Chauesser ahead of their return. Finally it reached the breaking point. They could wait no longer. They discussed it at length and decided distraction was the only worthy method. Pyotr would present at the front door, calling for someone from the stable to look at his horse's foot. Sebastian would slip in the barn when they were distracted and retrieve whatever he could lay hands on first. If he'd time, he'd drag everything out into the brush just beyond view and they'd retrieve it without notice.

As Pyotr came round to the front of the house he pushed the horse hard over the frozen ground. Once inside the fence he made his way to the front door. Just as he began to knock he saw a sleigh coming up over the hill in the direction of Chauesser. He exhaled, "blast" he said under his breath. It was a delivery from the mercantile. How would he explain his being here to the driver? He did not know. He watched as the man came into the yard.

The front door opened, "may I help you sir?" came a sweet voice. He turned to look, here was a young woman dressed in no doubt her Sunday best. "My name is Misty sir, have you come with a delivery?" She looked over his shoulder at the man who was just climbing down out of the sleigh.

"Ah no mademoiselle, I've", Pyotr glanced over his shoulder a thunderous clamor could be heard, the crack of several whips.

Both the merchant's deliveryman and Pyotr watched as a rather large black sleigh crested the hill. Pyotr nearly reeled. It was a sleigh he'd seen once before, this past December when it had careened into the City for the Christmas celebration. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide, he only hoped that Sebastian had seen its arrival and was even now retreating.

The sleigh barely made it through the opening of the gates coming to a stop not far from the front door. Andre was out first, closing the door temporarily behind him. He nodded as he walked passed the deliveryman, and was about to nod when he saw that the man on the stoop by the door was none other than Pyotr. He glowered at the man as another servant appeared at the door.

"Sir?" the man said, glancing at Misty, who was even now speechless. The man escorted Pyotr into the parlor, leaving Misty and Andre standing alone in the door.

"Mademoiselle," Andre said, reaching down and lifting Misty's hand to his lips. "I trust our arrival has not come at an inopportune time."

Misty shook her head, "no, though I'm afraid that Monsieur Courtland has not yet arrived. But you are most welcome to come in for tea." She was blushing profusely.

Andre smiled, a twinkle in his eye. He was not unaccustomed to this reaction from young ladies, but somehow it flattered him differently coming from her. He too blushed just slightly. "I shall inform the Lady." He glanced down at Misty. "I'm most certain that she would be most pleased to accept your invitation." He turned and walked back toward the sleigh.

Misty watched as he walked away. She'd enjoy the company of the Lady and Andre, and could only hope that Monsieur Courtland and Elizabeth would return very soon.

XXXXXXX

Erik gently kissed Christine's temple. "My dear, it is time to wake, we are quite nearly home." He brushed away a brown tendril that had fallen over her face.

She stretched just slightly. "But I'm so warm, finally asleep…" she began to mutter.

Erik smiled, she was more beautiful each day, and her half-sleep uttered words were endearing to him, they were so honest and vulnerable. He laughed. "But you must rise my dear, we've…" his voice trailed off. He looked out the window as the sleigh came to a nearly abrupt halt. He listened as he heard Erphan talking to JP, and felt as the sleigh slid back down the hill they'd just climbed. Erik was at once fastening his cloak, Christine now lying down on the bench fully as Erik stood as much as he could. Something was wrong. The sleigh came to a stop, and Erphan was at the door. Erik dismounted quickly.

"Sir, you've something to see before we crest this hill, I'd like to know of your intentions before venturing any further."

Erik walked along side Erphan in silence until they came to the crest alongside several trees peering over at the winter house that was down the hill into the valley below.

Erik's eyes grew wide. There in the courtyard were two carriages, and a small sled just beyond the stables. No doubt the citizenry of Chauesser had taken matters into their own hands now, clamoring at his door just as he wished most to be left alone.

Erphan leaned over speaking in low voice. He pointed. "That sir, that large sleigh, it belongs to Lady C. No doubt she's heard of the goings on and has come to congratulate you."

Erik looked as if he'd be sick. All this attention was driving him quite mad. He wanted nothing more than to be left at peace so he could care for Christine until the babies arrived. He closed his eyes, and exhaled. He was learning to manage his temper.

Erphan stood quietly at his side, just staring down at the men he could see moving about in the yard.

Finally Erik raised his head, looking Erphan squarely in the eye. "Do you feel up to a bit longer journey sir?"

"Whatever you ask of me Monsieur, I shall be most obliged to comply." Erphan responded, though he'd no idea what Stephan would have in mind.

"Very well then young man, back the sleigh down the remainder of the way until you come to the clearing by the river. There is a long wide path here. You'll travel it for several hours before turning to the West." Erik glanced once more down at the winter house, and then looked back at Erphan.

Erphan looked at him a bit puzzled at first, but then it hit him. "Off to Courtland Manor Monsieur?"

Erik nodded. "We'll overnight there, and in the morning you may return to the winter house to collect the rest of them. Elizabeth needs time to rest now; she's no need of the clamor of a City turned prideful. No doubt by the turn of autumn it will be all but forgotten." Erik patted Erphan on the shoulder. He had yet again proved himself to be a most helpful young man. "You did well to alert me of this. One day you shall be handsomely rewarded for your obedient service." He patted Erphan once more on the back before climbing back into the sleigh. He'd have to break the news to Christine, but he'd hoped they'd be long on the path before he'd have to worry for her waking.

XXXXXXX

The visit now ended, much to their dismay, Monsieur Courtland and his wife had never come. Lady C had been quite gracious, and gleaned what information she'd needed for the items she would need for the celebration.

As the sleigh pulled away from the winter house, Misty looked down at the small wrapped package that Andre had given her. She wondered why he had said to open it in private, but she had obeyed his wishes without question. She took it to her room; closing the door behind her she sat in the center of the bed, looking down at the neatly wrapped package. On it was scrawled one word, in lovely pen that she would recognize anywhere. Misty. She smiled smoothing her hand over it wondering whatever it could be. Slowly she undid the twine that was tightly drawn, then removed the brown wrapper, only to reveal a black leather box. Her brow furrowed, "what on earth?" She glanced at her lap; a small note had fallen from the wrapping. She took it up and read.

My dearest Misty,

It is my feeling that somehow you might be missing, yet again, the wonderful celebration in Chauesser. It is the way in which we welcome spring into the Village. As your employer has always seen fit to move his household to his summer residence before that date, it seems that you've all missed this most important event. I do hope that you find some comfort in this token of Lady C's affections for they young women of Chauesser, for she truly believes that they are the ones who will raise the next generation of Chauesser's citizenry, and to them a deep indebtedness is owed.

Please know that should you travel away now with the coming of the spring, I shall miss you in your absence, and pray that summer moves swiftly, and that you return with the falling of the leaves in autumn.

In sincerest affections, Andre

She smiled, her heart beating in her chest, she could barely believe that he remembered her, let alone her name, and his kind words….they nearly melted her.

She lay the open note down on the bed. Lifting the leather box, she carefully unwound the gold ribbon that held the two sides of the box face closed. Laying the ribbon aside, she sat the box down on her lap, opening the tiny doors to reveal the contents. She gasped, tears immediately welling in her eyes. She began to cry. Inside the box was a small written card from Lady C.

Misty,

My dear young lady, wear these with pride. Each young woman is a rare treasure to be revealed and cherished. Though your sixteenth birthday is several years passed now, I'd not want you to feel any less a part of Chauesser. I've no doubt one day that you shall have a proper suitor, and make your home in Chauesser.

Lady C

The tears streamed freely down Misty's cheeks as she lifted, the singular strand of polished pearls from the black velvet case. Finally she felt like she belonged somewhere, and perhaps to someone, for indeed, had he not himself delivered them with a personal note. She slipped the strand of pearls on her neck, lying back on her bed running her hands over the pearls. Perhaps this would be a year of promise. If he looked forward to her return in the autumn, then she too would spend the summer months, longing for the same.

April 10, 1870 Chauesser

The celebration had been perfect. The weather had been more like early June. Warm breezes lazily pushing at the petals of the newly bloomed bed of tulips that had not long erupted from the soils in the manicured garden of the park at the center of Chauesser.

The meal had been plentiful, and by some standards, the best they could remember, though the menu had been the same, the flavor seemed to thrust to new levels. Perhaps it was the anticipation of the culmination of the evening. The gifts would be distributed, and as much as they were longed for and appreciated, the citizens of Chauesser longed to hear the few words that Lady C would impart on their City. Her words were few, her temperament sincere, and each year she shared her wish for the City. It was as if each year on that day the City was reborn with hope in mankind. True the weight of the year would come to take its toll as the months passed, but this day, this one-day each year, all things seemed new…possible. For it was the day if dreams, and it was exactly what the Lady, or as some would call her, the mother of the City, wanted.

Andre came forward, escorting Lady C to the platform of the pavilion in the center of the park. He gave a formal introduction, as a hush fell over those that had gathered. Lady C began with thanking them all for coming, and then began, as had grown to be tradition, reading off the names of each of the special gift recipients.

The citizens quietly listened with reverence as each name was called, first all the young ladies turning sixteen to receive their strand of pearls. Then the young men off to college or those who would stay in apprenticeship in the City. Then the newly weds. As each was called, and applauded, the bond among them grew. It was one day, when all social barriers were laid aside, and everyone joined in celebrating the rights of passage together. As the last of the names were read, and the last of those gifts given, Lady C smiled with great pleasure. "Bring forth all of the children!"

There was a rapid assemblage of the children, in a very orderly fashion. Each was given a special basket filled with an array of treats, and several toys, books, writing implements, and packets of flower seeds. They were, as always, given instruction to go out and make the City of Chauesser more beautiful by planting their seeds in their family gardens. She smiled as she handed the gifts to each one, an embrace for each child, with a whisper in their ear, each a special wish for that child, and that child alone, no two alike. "Your dreams are possible…..reading is the window to the world you've never known…..always be a friend and you shall always have one….honor those older than you and care for those younger for it will bring you happiness……never be afraid to be who you were born to be……love your family, love God, and never forget to love yourself…always try to lighten the load of others, and you will find your own load much lighter to bear….a kind word is never a wasted word……for all things in this world have value and purpose, seek yours…. And so it went that she greeted each child until the last had come through.

She sat at her piano; a song would normally be the last before her speech. Then the remainder of the evening would be theirs to enjoy one another's company.

Lady C closed her eyes. The warm gentle breeze swirling in behind her neck, the soft hum of the crickets greeting the night as it began to fall. In her mind's eye she could see him standing there, under the shade of the pavilion, the last night they were together. He was tall, charming, and disarmingly handsome, and she had some very special news to tell him. She remembered it with bittersweet tears every year, for that was the last night that they were together…he, she…and their son she carried within her womb. It was the very reason why she celebrated this day each year with such jubilance. No, it was not the anniversary of their last meeting, no that she remembered quite privately each year.

But it was rather the auspicious anniversary of the birth of the son whom she would never hold, and the boy he would never see. Somehow she hoped that wherever he was in the world, that if God was merciful and the heavens kind, that the day of his birth would somehow be a special one for him.

As she laid her hands on the ivory keys, she whispered so quietly that the words barely moved her lips, "happy birthday my son, I will always love you," and then she began to play. As the melodious sounds of 'La Boehm' wafted on the gentle current of the night zephyrs, not another sound could be heard in all of the City. It was like music come down from heaven, blanketing them with happiness, laying hope and possibility at their feet. It was a song of beauty, and courage, and strength beyond all reason, and perfect, she'd thought, for this most special of nights. If one could gaze throughout the throng of people gathered there, sitting utterly mesmerized by the very presence of this woman as much as the music she played, they would have noticed. Hands held just a little bit tighter, children held just a little bit closer, and exchanged glances that said "I love you" without ever having uttered a single word.

When she had finished, there was silence. And then, as if on cue, the bell in the steeple of the church rang. A slow, resonating sound Clang…Clang…Clang…Clang…Clang…Clang…Clang…Clang. It was eight o'clock. Time for the Lady's speech.

She removed herself slowly from the piano bench walking toward the front of the pavilion, gracefully descending the spiraled stairs that led to the ground. As she passed through the crowds, she nodded in greeting, but stopped to talk to no one. Stopping at the center of the square she stood next to the new implement that had been placed there that very afternoon. It was covered under heavy canvas, and had been dutifully overseen by a most faithful member of her staff, lest anyone have idea to spoil it. Andre came forward, placing a sturdy wooden crate overturned next to it, extending his hand to Lady C as she climbed upon it.

Though she smiled, her lips trembled. She'd so hoped that the man would be there to join with them in the celebration. Though he'd have declined acknowledgement for his deeds, no matter how worthy, he certainly would not have refused the sentiment, for it was nearly an echo of what he'd said some weeks before when he'd addressed those who were the fortunate few to hear him speak that day before he left the City.

"Tonight, I stand before you, as always, to celebrate the miracle of children and family. Without family we have no hope, without children we have no future. To be a City worthy of our children we must embrace courage, embrace freedom, embrace liberty, but, most importantly we must embrace each other. Reach out to those who are hurting or in need. A man or woman of courage sees what needs to be done, and then simply does it. It takes no special skills, no feat of strength, nor anything more than what each of should possess, the desire to do that which is right, and there in front of our eyes.'

"This," she reached her hand up, grabbing fully a hand full of the fabric, "is in tribute of a man who could not be here with us this night. A man of great courage, and fearlessness, who saw opportunity for compassion and ceased it without question as to his own welfare or comfort. He is not given to boasting, and takes no great pride in what he's done. He thinks himself to be no more than a common man."

She tugged swiftly at the canvas, the draping slipping away to the ground reveling the bronzed statue. "Let us all live this next year, in the thought of what a common man, woman, or child can do. For though each of us walks a different path, we all wear a cloak. Let us share in the cloak of the common man, and aspire to be uncommon in courage, uncommon in faith, and uncommon in the love. Let us learn acceptance that we reside in this wonderful City of Chauesser, where great things have happened, where great things will happen. Rest in the knowledge that all things are possible, if we've but the courage to don this cloak, if ever it is needed of us."

She looked up at the bronzed statue of the cloak. There were no distinguishing features that led one to know what company nor country it was from. It was a simple cloak worn by near everyone, precisely the reason she'd chosen it.

They crowd said nary a word as they stared at the statue. It was the cloak of the common man, and they too could do great things, things of honor, of true importance, if only they would embrace the ideal.

Dear Phamily:

I have a challenge for you. If you are interested….

Below are a series of questions regarding the story thus far. I, as most of you know have a great love for books and movies, and therefore would like very much to have an opportunity to share with you. If you are willing to take the challenge, finding the answers to all of the questions below, I am offering a prize. The first person who e-mails me with all of the correct answers to the questions, will be sent a $ 25 gift card for Amazon on-line. I know it is a small offering, but I hope through this process that you will be in essence sharing the experience with me as I go back through the story myself. And now, on to the challenge. I do not believe in luck, so I wish you all the best!

In what hapter did the name Erik first appear?

In what chapter did Christine first profess her love to the Phantom?

In what chapter was Madame Giry's first name revealed?

In what chapter did Nadir first appear?

In what chapter did Erik give Christine her very first flower?

What did Erik and Christine share as their first meal together?

In what chapter does Erik first learn that he is going to be a father?

In what chapter did Meg have her first realization that Erik and Raoul might be brothers?

In what chapter was Nadir chased by a hungry pack of wolves?

What was the name of the innkeeper at the Candlelight Inn, and who was she related to?

What was the significance of the hand over the heart gesture that Meg and Madame Giry shared.

In what chapter did Madame Giry first have an inkling that she had feelings for Nadir?

In what chapter did the first member of the Crawlings family make their appearance?

How many times did Erik tell Christine he loved her on their wedding night?

What is Christine's father's name?

In what chapter did Raoul come to the realization that he had feelings for Meg that went beyond friendship?

What was the name of the book that Erik gave Madame Giry the night that they all spent at the winter house just after Sara died?

In what chapter did Sara first appear?

In what chapter did Erik have his first flash-back?

In what chapter did Christine have her first "vision"?

In what chapter did Madeline first appear?

In what chapter did Lady C first appear?

What meal did Sara bring for Erik and Christine the first night they stayed in her Inn?

How many times does Erik and Christine's name appear in chapter 187?

What song did Erik sing to Christine on the rooftop their last night in Paris?

What was the name of the street in Paris where all of the undertakers did business?

In what chapter did Erik and Christine share their first dance?

In what chapter did Erphan receive his name? And what was the circumstance?

In what chapter did mention of the Sultana first appear?

What was the first thing that Erik saw when he woke up at Courtland Manor after having been unconscious for nearly two months?

Oh so many other fun questions could be asked, but this will certainly be a challenge to anyone who is up for it! Best wishes to you all! I shall bring you something special for Valentines my dear Phamily…that is my solemn vow!


	200. Blooms of June

Chapter 200 Blooms of June 

Dear Faithfuls:

Oh how I have missed you! Happy Valentine's Day I hope this chapter brings everyone a little something to make them smile!

The warm winds of June were wafting through the heavily blooming gardens at Courtland Manor. The addition of several more sculptures to the meandering walk-ways through the plethora of flora made the gardens even more whimsical than they had been in previous years. There was something about having the manor occupied by its owners that just made everything seem more alive. The greenery was lush, with deciduous and foreign plants alike blending in harmony to form a beautiful green carpet. Several of the new glass lanterns had been added as well as several generous benches, making it all the more a beckoning haven on the warm summer nights that yet lay ahead.

Off in the distance could be heard gentle laughter. "Erik, your humor astounds me!" Christine said as she slid her hand once more into his as they strolled along the shore dipping their toes in the warm water that was splashing about their ankles. Christine had the hem of her dress bunched up and grasped in one hand.

Erik leaned over kissing the top of her head. "I am pleased to find that my misfortune humors you my dear!" He said playfully. "It isn't often that I confess such things, and then to be mocked!" He was laughing.

"Oh come now my dear husband, you yourself would find it utterly amusing if you'd heard the story second-hand would you not?" She was smiling at him as they continued to stroll along. She stretched just slightly. Her back had become increasingly tender in recent weeks.

Erik looked down at her, catching the look in her eye. "My dear," he smoothed his hand over her rapidly increasing mid-section. He bent at the knee scooping her up into his arms. She no longer resisted his codling, in part because the doctor had assured her that he was well enough, and in part because she knew it pleased him to do it.

Christine nestled her head into his chest. "Erik?" She looked out at the sea staring off into the distance.

"Hmmm?" Erik said as he kissed the side of her forehead. He walked into her favorite part of the garden where he'd had Lilly of the Valley planted, and it was even now in full bloom. He sat carefully down on the bench, perching Christine on his lap.

"When are you going to tell me the story?" She rubbed her cheek against the flesh of his chest. "Tell me the story of the statue that you brought here from my childhood home?" She tipped her head back to look into his eyes.

"That my dear is up to you. I've been waiting for you to ask." He looked down into her swirling eyes. The mid-afternoon summer sun made them sparkle with such radiance.

"It reminds me of my childhood. As our family grows, it makes me long for my father in ways that I couldn't have imagined." She began mindless running her hand across his chest. "Any trifle that I can find to make me feel closer to him, I should very much enjoy. I dare say our staff may have come to wonder about my mental acuity as of late." She chuckled. "I can only wonder what they must think when they see me standing in front of the clock, gently caressing the face of it, and mumbling under my breath." She smiled.

There was a long pleasant silence as they sat, she in his arms, his hand rubbing back and forth over her stomach. The heady scents of the flowers commingled with the fresh biting saltiness in the air from the sea as it gently wafted through the gardens made Christine inhale. "This is such a wonderful place Erik." She closed her eyes. The experience of being there engaged every sense she possessed. "I am sorry if I was most unpleasant when first we came here Erik."

"Christine, do not…" Erik quieted as Christine tilted her head back to look up into his eyes.

"Erik, you know I behaved in a most juvenile manner, you cannot deny it. My actions bordered on tantrum when we first arrived. I simply had it in my head that we would stay there in that most pleasant little city, readying the nursery, enjoying strolls in the park." She paused as she began running her hand over his chest again. Erik put his chin on the top of her head. "To have made the staff go through all of that work only to have them undo all of it…." Her voice trailed off. "It felt rather selfish to me in the first place. But I understand you were concerned, and I have come to love it here, though I do miss Meg and Madame Giry terribly."

Erik kissed the top of her head, a wide smile crossing his face. He'd hoped for Nadir's visit to be a surprise, but perhaps it would be the very thing she needed to lift her spirits. "It just so happens that we may have a certain gentleman visitor the day after the morrow."

Christine turned looking up at him. "But the doctor said he'd not be returning until Saturday." She said with a most convincing tone. She caught the glint in his eye. "Nadir?" she turned fully sitting up straight. Erik smiled at her. "Why didn't you tell me Erik?" She slid her arms around his neck squeezing him tightly.

Erik smiled at her, "I am telling you." He knew his feeble attempt would do little to satisfy her curiosity.

"Yes, you are telling me now, but you've known for some time have you not?" She stared at him with an eyebrow raised, a mischievous grin.

"I've known for a few days that is true." Erik wrapped his arms around her. "I wanted it to be a surprise for you my dear. His post arrived with the last shipment of goods from Chauesser." He kissed her forehead as he stood, setting her gently on her feet. He began to walk further down the path that he'd been working on all of the last several weeks. "Now my dear, you can see what it is that has kept us apart every morning." He smiled at Christine, her eyes sparkling in the sun. His entire world now revolved around caring for and pleasing this woman. He could only imagine she would approve of the improvements he had made in one path in particular.

"Where are we going Erik?" Christine's smile growing wider with every step they took.

Erik turned and looked over his shoulder as he led her. Christine had a flash to the very first time she'd followed him anywhere…that night…that night after her first public performance when he'd revealed himself to her. She blinked, her smile fading slightly.

Erik stopped, "is everything alright my dear?" He wanted only to surprise her, not fatigue her. There would be plenty of opportunities to share this with her. He'd only wished to share it with Nadir when he paid his call, but Christine would come first.

"Everything is wonderful Erik, it is simply that sometimes…I think…my mind wanders back to months ago when first you came to me." Christine said.

Erik turned back toward her, taking her into his arms, holding her close. "I think about those days as well my love. They come to me most oft in my dreams now." He titled her chin up with his forefinger. "How very grateful I am every day that you showed such bravery." He smoothed his hand along her jaw. "Had you not been so insistent, so imploring, I'd never have…"

Christine stretched on her toe tips placing a kiss on Erik's lips. "When one is in love…bravery has little influence. It is the force of love that drives our deeds, not our courage", she whispered into his lips, kissing him yet again.

Their lips parted, Christine leaning back, resting once more flat-footed, staring up at Erik whose eyes remained yet closed. "Erik?" Christine said.

"It is a memory….I'm saving it in my mind…right now…right here…in this moment." Erik opened his eyes looking down at Christine with such intensity. He slid his arms around her back, drawing her once more to him. "I close my eyes, it seems odd to you I know…but all of my most cherished memories were made in the dark. All of my music was written in the dark of the caverns. It is only when I close my eyes that I can emblazon memories in my mind." He leaned down placing a delicate kiss on her brow. "I want always to remember this moment, when we shared this most special memory together." Erik caught out of the corner of his eye as he saw Misty off in the distance climbing the stone stairs that led to the back of Courtland Manor. He smiled. Everything was in place now. He'd lead her the rest of the way down the path, explaining each stop along the way until finally they came to the place Christine had been most curious about, the place where the statue from her childhood garden even now sat.

"Erik I love you," she stretched again kissing his cheek, "I have always loved you," she kissed his other cheek, "will always love you," she kissed his lips, leaning away just an inch she said in a nearly breathless voice, "until my dying day I will love you." She pressed herself fully against him.

"Christine…" Erik uttered then took her fully into his arms. "Dear woman why must you affect me this way?" he growled, nestling his face against her neck beneath the long dark tresses of her hair.

Christine giggled, kissing his ear. "Now, what is it that you were going to show me my dear?"

Erik inhaled and exhaled slowly. "You toy with me now, but lest you wait my dear, it shall come to no good for you!" He laughed as he slipped his hand into hers leading her down the path.

"Where is it that you lead me dear sir?" Christine said playfully.

Erik grinned down at her once more, "do you not trust me my dear?"

The pair wandered off down the path, a discovery awaited Christine, one that Erik hoped would please her.

XXXX

Misty was once again back in the house. The pot of tea and a domed plate of scones had been placed on the small table with two chairs down in the small fern lined grotto. She could only assume they wanted their privacy for afternoon tea, to have it arranged in such an obscure place. She smiled. Monsieur Courtland seemed to do whatever he could think of to please Elizabeth. She only hoped she could one day be loved such as this woman was. She sighed as she came back in the back door of the manor leading into the kitchen. She'd retrieve a cup of tea and then retire to her room for a nap and a read. It was the sixth in a series of letters that she'd received from Andre and she could scarcely wait to read it. Posts came only once a week to Courtland Manor, but at least they had way to receive them at all without traveling into yet another City.

She wandered into her small room, moving directly over to the windows. The room had grown warm since last she was there having dressed in the dark that day. She'd risen to take care of so many things before the rest of the staff were even awake. Opening the windows she inhaled as the warm scented breezes wafted in. She reclined on the comfort of her bed rather than sit at her desk. Perhaps once relaxed she'd slumber for a few minutes until the dinner hour preparations would begin. She was tired, and her eyes grew heavy. She'd be asleep already had her excited anticipation bid her otherwise. She rolled over onto her stomach, sliding her finger beneath the red wax seal. She slid the parchment out into her hand, rolling over to her back she lifted and read.

Dear Misty,

I received your post late afternoon. I am penning this reply as I enjoy my supper in the privacy of my quarters. It was with a glad heart that I read that Monsieur Courtland and his wife were doing well. What joyous news that she will be delivering her first child in the fall of the year. It seems that the cradle that Lady C had delivered to their house will be very useful in the coming months. Furthermore it will require more of your time once the child arrives. It no doubt came as pleasant conversation that you shall be the child's governess. Your duties will no doubt change, making your trips into Chauesser a bit less frequent. Perhaps, with Monsieur Courtland's permission, I may pay an afternoon visit when you return to their home in Chauesser.

I was happy to learn that you've continued your reading with the book that I sent. It is no little wonderment that you've had time, amongst the business of moving the household back to the manor. It is, I understand, quite an ordeal each season to move one's household, though I've never had opportunity to do so. Lady C is perfectly content to spend her days perched above Chauesser. It is a very structured existence, open to little spontaneity, but it does provide a comfort in being predictable.

I've just finished the book that you leant to me. I'll be returning it with the next letter. It is rather a pleasure to share literature in this manner. One does not truly need to possess a good book. Once read, it is part of us forever more. I trust that you will find the same with the books that I've sent.

The weather grows warm here in Chauesser. Here on the hill there are breezes that cool the air when the sun begins to set. In the evening I push open my window just a fraction and listen to the chirping of the crickets. I am certain that it is warm where you are as well. Perhaps tonight when you retire for the evening, you can push your window open and listen to the crickets, and think of me…as I do you.

It was my intention to mention early on in this note that we have news that may be of interest to Monsieur Courtland. Sebastian has been brought up on charges, and it was determined that he will be tried in a court in Paris, as it seems that his crimes extend far beyond that of those he committed there. It was apparent from what was found as remnants that he and his accomplice peddled in rare art…rare stolen art to be more exact. Upon investigation they are finding more and more connection to distant lands. The situation may grow to quite enormous implications for the man, especially with his partner not having been found. I shall update you when I can on this issue.

There has been further movement on the issue of the undertaker. Lady C, as I mentioned in my last letter, has given final ultimatum to the man. We shall see what comes of it. She is showing considerable strength and patience in this matter, though a much swifter conclusion would have been preferable. We've had quite a time finding an undertaker to come to Chauesser to help finish the young man's apprenticeship. I do believe we are closer now than we'd been when last I'd writ. As fate would have it there is an excellent undertaker from Paris who is considering Lady C's offer. He is none other than the father to the young doctor that has now called Chauesser home since his grandfather's passing. He's a good reputation, and I do believe that Lady C's offer might be more than he makes in the three months that it would require of him to complete the young man's apprenticeship. It seems he shan't mind being in the same City with his son for a few months, especially the pleasant summer ones. I shall share more with you on this matter once agreements have been reached.

It might be of particular interest to you that Nicole, the young woman whose grandmother was rescued by your employer, has found happiness in the company of said doctor. The pair have spent a great deal of time together with her mother since the grandmother's passing. If one did not know better, one would say they were already family, as much time as the three spend in one another's company! It has been a point of pleasure for Lady C that such a fine young woman be able to find happiness, even if it is, as the trio all proclaim, to be an arrangement of convenience. You see Nicole's mother is not well, and is in need of ever increasing care. It may very well be for the convenience of all concerned, as Nicole is tending his house and smallish office for him, and he in turn is caring for her mother. Regardless of the circumstances, it is wonderful to see how they are in support of one another. Lady C has said she shan't be surprised if there would be an announcement of engagement on their behalf.

The night wanes now, and my dinner has grown cold. I prefer to think of our exchanges of posts as visits, and I've no doubt that if I were in your company even now that I shan't be able to focus on my meal anymore than I am now able. My thoughts of you have proven to be quite a distraction I'm afraid. I look forward to your return in the fall. There is much to enjoy in Chauesser that time of year, not the least of which are rides through the orchards after the leaves begin to turn. I shall be happy to be your escort when you return.

In sincerest affection, Andre

Misty inhaled sharply, she'd not even noticed at what point during her reading she'd begun to hold her breath. She rolled back over to her stomach, reaching out for her cup she took a long drink. She smiled widely, running her hand over the sheets of parchment that lay open on the bed. She'd read it again, just as she had all of the others before it. She propped herself up on her elbows, staring out the window as the breezes fluttered the curtains in her room. She couldn't recall a time where she'd felt happier. There was love in the air no matter where she seemed to look. She smiled wider just thinking of the surprise that Monsieur Courtland had planned for Elizabeth. He was always thoughtful of his wife, and forever doting. Truly a man of his wealth did not have to toil each day for his keep so it was hard to compare his attentions and affections to what a normal man might offer, but it was the sweetest things she'd ever born witness to none the less.

Misty took another sip from her cup, stretching to put it back in the saucer, she rolled once more to her back. Her nap could wait. She'd re-read every word, slowly, as she imagined he had penned it. A broad smile crossed her face as she lifted the pages yet again. This would be like the others, every word memorized as if written in indelible ink in her mind.

XXXXX

Paris had grown hot and muggy, a bit unusual so early in the season. The seamstress had kept the windows shuttered to keep out the heat of the noon-day sun. She moved over to the window to open the shutters; the warmth of the light being her guide. She found herself laughing recalling that night so long ago when she had found herself in the cellar with the young man, and smiled then further, thinking of how she'd shared the story with his wife. She stood in the window as the breeze began to waft into the room, cooling the sweat on her skin just slightly so as to dry it. She found herself day-dreaming and wondering how they were faring. She so hoped that Elizabeth was feeling well and that the early summer heat had not made the experience of carrying their children any less joyous. She sighed, moving away from the window, back down the corridor. She'd a number of garments to finish before the day was done. Business had been swift this spring, and though she'd missed the company, she'd had much to occupy her time, just as she knew they did.

XXXX

"And a bottle of Chateau LeFet good sir." Nadir nodded to the man as he handed him the daily menu. He hardly had to look at it, as he had rather become a regular at the Starboard at least thrice a week. He laid the menu on the linen clothed table, looking over at his dinner companion. "So will it be the salad with goat cheese and pine nuts for you today my dear?" He smiled, taking a sip from his water glass. "I know how you enjoy it so."

Madame Giry smiled back at him. "I think today I shall have the tureen of wild mushroom soup', she said as she leaned back while the waiter laid her napkin across her lap. "And you sir, let me guess, the salmon with scallop mousse?" She smiled at Nadir across the table. Nadir returned her glance.

Their conversations had become so comfortable. The months of undivided attention had eased their former reservations, taking down remaining walls of hesitancy. They'd grown quite accustomed to dining together in public, removing any doubt that the two were fond of one another. The Starboard had become a frequent location for joining for lunch especially. It had been at the Patron's behest that Madame Giry had agreed. He had want to not only take good care of his prized ballet mistress, but also had want to make her presence very visible in Parisian society so that the socialites would feel assured that the progress on reopening the Opera Populaire was well on its way. If the ballet mistress was out and about, looking happy and content, then so would the others be. Though she'd tried to refuse it, she knew DeChagny was not only clever, but a shrewd businessman. Nearly everything in a society such as what existed in the Parisian aristocracy was about appearance, and no one understood the nuisances better than DeChagny. Nadir of course was encouraged to accompany Madame Giry, as he had been officially employed as the Opera House historian and was in charge of researching the heritage of some of the well known local families. There was to be a portion of the Opera House that would be used for formal tea parties that was to be decorated with family crests, and other artifacts and items of interest regarding the families commonly viewed to have had a hand in shaping the propriety of Paris. For historian to accompany the ballet mistress only made good business sense. Continuity was key, and the more visible the better.

XXXXX

Meg lay down the book she'd been reading when she saw Raoul walk into the parlor. "Darling you've woken from your afternoon's rest so soon?" She said rising to greet him properly.

"I do not know if you or the Barron are worse. You both act as if I'm as fragile as an egg!" Raoul said with a slight though playful irritation in his voice.

Meg turned her head down slightly. It had nearly become a daily ritual. She showed concern, he feigned irritation, she hurt, and then there was the reconciliatory kiss.

"Seriously Meg, I do worry for how you worry for me. Surely a young lady has other things to occupy herself." He looked over his shoulder hoping to see the typical catalogs that his sister had sent for her for the summer fashions opened, Meg having perused them. He glanced over at the table, they were still neatly piled just where Madeline had put them for Meg's convenience weeks before. He looked in the chair where Meg had been sitting. There on the spine he read the title of the book "Parisian history 1700 to Modern Day". He looked back at Meg a little frown on his face. "My dear, a lady ought to be looking at what dresses and new hair pieces she might like, not reading of dry history! When we return to Paris, you'll want to look a fashion plate, like the lady you've become." He leaned down kissing Meg's cheek. He smoothed his thumb along it, one could barely see the cut, and then only when Meg was overly warm.

Meg smiled up at Raoul. He was as always, far more concerned with what he thought a young lady should want, then on what she herself felt was important. "My dear, I'll not see to your having a wife that is uneducated in the history of a City that is so very important to her husband's family. I've intentions of reading everything I might get my hands on whilst we are here. An uneducated woman is of little use other than rearing children, and I want to be far more than that to you my love." She pecked his cheek. "Children grow and move on, I want to be of some interest to you once our children have been raised."

It amazed Meg still how oft and how freely that either she or Raoul would bring into conversation of their future life together as husband and wife. Though no proper or formal engagement had yet been announced, for all practical purposes, and for the ways that mattered most to she and Raoul, they were already betrothed to one another. The remainder of their courtship would be merely for show now for Parisian society.

Meg had heard through Madeline with conversations from other servants in Raoul's employee that were still near Paris, that story was told of how Meg was off with Raoul, being chaperoned and groomed to be a proper wife for a man of his standing. Whilst it was not entirely untrue, as his sister made weekly visits to bring Meg up to speed on the goings on in Paris and the rest of the world, as well as educate her on what was and was not acceptable or in vogue in the City, it still was an irritation to her. She was educating herself, with Raoul and the Baron's guidance on politics, history, mathematics, the sciences, and other matters. She was as determined as she could be to fashion herself into someone that Raoul could be proud of though he insisted it mattered little to him.

His father was truly more approving of it than Raoul, seeming to take great pleasure in quizzing Meg whenever he'd visit, and even greater pleasure when he was unable to stump her. In spite of himself and his first preconceived notions of her, he'd grown rather fond of Meg. He'd little doubt that she would be a far more devoted wife than any other woman that Raoul could have possible suited in Paris. He admired her tenacity, and her eagerness to please not only Raoul, but the society that he seemed to have little real fearful regard for. Every week he'd send Meg clipping from newspapers from Paris, London, and on occasion the Americas. If she was determined to become educated on current affairs, he was determined to help her, for it could only further his pride in the wife Raoul would one day take.


	201. The Promise of a Summer Afternoon

Chapter 201 The Promise of A Summer Afternoon 

Dear Faithfuls: I am so sorry that there was such a delay, and I regret that I will not be able to update until next Tuesday. After returning to the story, I fell very ill and was unable to focus on little else but my temperature! I promise next Tuesday's chapter will be a bit longer, and a bit more telling of what has transpired for our favorite couples.

Christine smiled as the greenery grew thicker and thicker, and she could feel by degree how the temperature cooled as the path led into a fern and vine covered grotto. "Erik?" she said trying to focus her eyes from the bright sun into the refreshing dimness of the place where he finally released her hand.

Erik walked over to a small sea-shell encrusted wall that contained a tiny candelabra. Christine could see something on a hook just below the candles as Erik struck a match to bring light to the small room created entirely by vine, branch, and bough. Her eyes lit up as they regained their focus. There in this haven was the statue off to one side, a small table with two chairs in the middle, and the carefully constructed altar. What she saw on the hook below the candles made her breath catch in her throat. There on one hook was the picture that she'd had in the chapel in the Opera House, the one of her father. Next to it was picture she'd not seen before but instinctively knew was her mother. She turned to Erik, her heart beating wildly in her chest.

Erik smiled at her as he came up behind her embracing her, kissing her cheek. "I thought in these coming months that you might wish to spend time with your mother and father. I am told it is when a young woman becomes a mother herself that she appreciates and needs her own parents the most. If it were possible for me to return them to you, I'd move heaven and earth to do it. This my dear, is as close as I might come, and it is my hope and prayer that it brings you some comfort and happiness."

Christine could feel the tears rolling down her cheek. They quickly chilled in the cool air as she brushed them away. "But where did you ever, how did you…." Her voice trailed off as she made her way over to one of the chairs beside the table.

Erik helped to settle her in. "Yes my dear, I knew that you would want to know, and I furthermore thought we might spend the afternoon here. Have a cup of tea, and I shall tell you all you wish to know of it my love." He poured Christine a cup. A plate of petite scones lay between them.

Christine inhaled. The greenery itself seemed to be alive with scents of the earth. Something about this place already felt like home. She sipped from her cup, returning it to its saucer, looking at Erik with eager eyes. "Tell me the story Erik, tell me all of it."

"Very well my dear." He reached out his hand, running his index finger beneath her chin. "It was the winter you first arrived at the Opera House. One night during conversation with Madame Giry we came upon that the following spring your father's estate was to be sold. It troubled her immensely that all of his things would be sold and you were far too young then to be able to make use of any of them. If she'd still had her home she'd have had some of the items taken there, but she'd no place other than the Opera House so it was not possible." Erik looked at Christine. She was listening as intently as a young child to a fairytale. "You see my dear that is when first Nadir entered your life, though you'd not know it. I sent post to him with instructions of what in particular I sought. You see your father had told Madame Giry of the statue, and you'd enjoyed it so. It took Nadir some time to locate the estate, and make arrangements for the statue, but once he had, it was brought safely here. Though I must tell you he'd questioned my intentions, why would I go to such lengths for an orphan." Erik shook his head, "In my former life, I'm afraid, compassion was not one of my defining attributes. I'd not been able to answer him directly, other than I knew what pain it was to have everything removed from one's childhood making it as if it had never happened at all."

Erik looked down sadly, then up again at Christine, her eyes were glowing in admiration. He smiled. "So that is how this angel came to Courtland Manor my dear, and here," he glanced over at the angel illuminated by the glow of the several candles he'd lit, "and here she shall stay to watch over you and guide you, just as your father intended."

Christine's lips were trembling. "Oh Erik, how can one woman be so fortunate to be loved such as I?" She reached out her hand taking his.

"Christine, Christine…you are worthy of this and far more my love. You saw the man behind the monster, loved the repulsive carcass, who seemed a beast but secretly dreamed of beauty. You saw me in my loneliness, loved me through my darkest hours. Your very presence has brought me every joy in my life. What little token of gratitude this is for you, is only the beginning of the debt my soul owes you." He lifted her hand kissing her knuckles.

Christine was nearly speechless. She was still humbled by his words, even after all of this time. He still did not understand that she felt indebted to him. And then she smiled, perhaps it was this very stalemate that made the pair a perfect match, for they loved beyond reason, and without reservation, and with their whole hearts open and bleeding.

"What of the pictures Erik….the picture of my mother?" Christine's eyes wandered to it. It had been a very long while since she'd gazed upon a picture of her mother, and it was startling how very much she looked like her.

Erik smiled, running his hand over Christine's. "That was much more simple my dear. Madame Giry had this picture amongst her things at the Opera House. She knew that one day that the picture would be given you, when in time you began to ask about your mother. After the fire, Madame Giry had taken it away from the Opera House and brought it here to Courtland Manor when she came to stay during my recuperation. It seemed only fitting to me that the picture joined that of your father in this place."

Erik looked round, it was as he wanted it to be. "In this place Christine, I hope that you can spend time with your mother and father whenever you like." He turned Christine's palm over and traced a small heart her hand. "This is a place of love my dear. I shan't have ever known your parents, and in truth I can only hope that they'd have approved of our love. But somehow here, I feel we can all be together." He leaned down kissing her hand. His eyebrow raised slightly, as one further surprise was yet unannounced, "this very table and chairs," Erik said smoothing his hand over the table, "I understand from Madame Giry was your mother's favorite place to sit in the morning, it too came from your father's estate."

Christine looked down at the table. She did not remember it, but then again there was nothing particularly remarkable about it. It was standard black wrought iron. Perhaps her father had hesitated to use it after her mother's passing, whatever the case, she was entirely pleased that she'd now be able to sit at it as her mother had so many years ago.

And then there was silence. Erik watched as Christine rose, walking over to the pictures of her mother and father. She began to kneel, if however awkwardly due to her expanding waistline. Erik quickly coming to her aid, knelt next to her. She stared deeply into his eyes, glancing back and forth between the pictures and his loving gaze. In that moment it felt as if an introduction was taking place, as if Christine was taking Erik into a world that had long been hers alone. She reached out clasping his hand as she took a long match from the cylinder and touched it to the glowing flame of the candle Erik had lit. As it burst into flame the glow illuminated her face, and in it he saw the small girl he'd come to love years before. She squeezed his hand slightly as she lit the candles above her father, and then hesitated staring down at the picture of her mother. A single tear ran down her cheek dropping to her chest as she lit the candle above her mother. She lowered her head to pray, and so did Erik.

Several minutes passed and Erik raised his head opening his eyes to see Christine staring at him. He smiled at her. She went to rise and he stood assisting her. Without a word he wrapped her up in his arms, she nestling her head into his chest. They stood a very long while in an embrace until a sudden abrupt movement between them made them both take pause. Erik smiled at Christine looked at him in wonder.

"Was that?" Erik said as a wide smile grew across Christine's face.

"Yes my love, that was your son!" she said reaching up with her lips to grace his.

"Christine, Christine, we shan't start that again shall we? We could very well be welcoming three beautiful daughters into this world!" Erik said smoothing his hand over her stomach.

"Or three handsome sons!" Christine retorted. She reached down clasping his hand, drawing him near her once more. "Thank you Erik….thank you from the bottom of my heart. No greater love have I ever known than that which you have shone me. The love of my father was strong to be sure, but this love…" she passed her other hand over her heart and then rested her palm over his, "this love is far greater still, and I am a blessed woman to have been chosen to be your wife."

Erik's eyes filled with tears of joy. No matter how many times she would tell him how grateful she was, he would feel that and more in gratitude for she having rescued him.

XXX

Misty had fallen off to sleep, the letter lay open on her chest. She was soon dreaming of a ride in the orchard as autumn descended upon Chauesser. She saw herself riding in an open carriage next to Andre as he was explaining what they passed to her. She heard little of his words as she was enamored with the glow in his eye, and the square of his jaw. He could have been telling her any tale he pleased as his voice itself seemed to carry a melody all its own. In her sleep she smiled. A more pleasant dream on a warm summer's afternoon could not be had.

XXXX

Raoul's staff had been dutifully maintaining his estate as if he were to arrive at any moment. Indeed his father had given them fair warning not days before, that it shan't be long until he would return to his home.

They'd spent these last days tidying up the growing greens of the lawn, and manicuring with tedious care, the foliage that surrounded the house proper. Each trellis had need to be inspected and repaired, and then the laborious task of rewinding the new growth of the vines, and stripping away the old dead branches would begin. First they'd groom the grounds below and then begin that task.

With Madeline absent these months, another of Raoul's staff had been appointed to be overseer of all things in her stead. It was that very afternoon, long after tea, but yet before supper that one of the gardeners presented her with something he'd found in the lawn. It was a worn and weathered envelope, seeming to be a collection of written papers. Due to the condition of them he'd not tried to open it himself. Not sure if it were something to discard, he'd brought it in to her for review. If it were something of importance, he'd not be the one responsible for destroying it.

She flipped the envelope over several times. It was still damp, and mold had grown on the exterior. She carefully opened the envelope only to see that the pages inside were also damp, and by the color she could tell that the ink had bled, and even there mold had begun to grow. She laid it aside, contemplating. Her eyebrows raised, she'd known of a book in the library that dealt with the handling of old documents, perhaps it would lend a bit of advice as to how to best care for what had been found. She'd no idea if it was something that needed rescuing or not, but it was her place now, in Raoul's absence, to make such decisions, and she'd prefer to err on the side of caution rather than lose something of importance. She rose at once to retrieve it. And there it sat, a document that could forever change the world they'd all been living in…if its secrets were revealed.

XXXX

The waiter laid the dome-covered platters down in front of Nadir and Madame Giry. There was the moment of presentation that was always a pleasant event as the covers were removed. Nadir nodded, and the waiter took the superfluous utensils from the table.

"The salmon looks divine Nadir," Madame Giry said as she dipped her spoon into the tureen to fill her shallow soup dish.

"As does your soup Antoinette." Nadir said, stealing a peek into her tureen.

Madame Giry smiled. He used her first name sparingly, and only when in private conversation, and it pleased her to hear him utter it. There was something about his brogue that made it seem a bit mysterious. Madame Giry glanced around the room. Their presence had become such a common occurrence that aside from the polite nod of recognition, they were paid no more attention than any of the other diners.

"You must taste this Nadir, it is simply wonderful." She extended her hand towards him, he handing her his spoon. She dipped it into the soup, carefully running the edge along the rim of her bowl. As she extended the spoon once more to him, she expected him to reach out and take the spoon, but he surprised her by leaning forward and supping the soup from the spoon itself. A great blush overcame Madame Giry as Nadir lifted the spoon from her hand, placing it face down on his plate.

"You are most correct my dear, the soup is entirely lovely." He said, smiling at her slyly. He'd not really thought about the action, it just seemed natural to him. Though to any onlooker they might have taken a different bent as to his inclinations. Nadir cleared his throat. "Would you like a sample of my…"

Madame Giry did not look up, she was fiddling with the napkin in her lap. She swallowed, she felt flushed.

Nadir sat quietly eating his salmon, paying attention only to his food. He'd not meant to cause her any embarrassment. He felt so very comfortable in her presence, and had they been dining alone in her quarters as they did so many evenings as of late, it would not have been a faux pas. But in public, their affections needed to be a bit more reserved lest the rumor mill begin running in a direction they could not control.

Eventually Madame Giry looked up and returned to eating her soup. The waiter had come to dutifully refill her water glass, and clear Nadir's plate which he'd emptied in short order. A few minutes later he returned with a snifter of brandy and a press of hot coffee.

"Madame Giry, what is it that you shall be doing with your afternoon? With the chorus girls on afternoon break due to the warmth, I thought perhaps that you and I should very much like to take a carriage ride through the royal gardens. I hear that nearly everything is in bloom." Nadir watched as Madame Giry's gaze rose to meet his.

"I suppose an outing such as that would be most pleasant. Indeed I think the girls are going for a swim this afternoon. A perfect thing for a day such as this. I've entrusted their safekeeping to Gwendoline for the afternoon. Being a bit younger, she will be much more inclined to their tomfoolery than I." She smiled at Nadir.

"Then it is set." Nadir looked around the room until he caught the eye of the young bellman, he gave him a nod. Nadir had prearranged the ride, and having received her consent, it was settled.

He hoped to explain to her on their ride that he'd be leaving on the morrow to pay a visit to Erik and Christine. He'd not broached the subject with her up until now, lest she give it undue worry. As historian, his movements would not be questioned. The trip would be in the name of research, and indeed, that was his intentions. He'd recently learned of the undertaker's relation to the young doctor in Chauesser. It was yet piece in the puzzle that connected Chauesser to Paris. If the Perdue from Paris was the son of the doctor from Chauesser, and even now the doctor's grandson was practicing there, it could prove to be of some benefit. He'd already come to know the undertaker, and perhaps that would somehow give him access to the grandson. What he hoped to find he wasn't certain, but one never knew what one could find given the opportunity to.

The waiter returned once more clearing away Madame Giry's tureen, and soup plate, and in its place he'd brought two stemmed glasses of vanilla sorbet. It was a perfect end to a perfect meal…and a perfect beginning to what she assumed would be a most pleasant afternoon.

XXXXXX

Raoul walked over to Meg, taking the book from her hand and laying it face down on the settee. "If you're so determined to be educated my dear, then let us endeavor to learn more than the waltz." He lifted her to her feet.

Meg smiled as she put her hand in his, her right in his left raised to the height of their shoulders extended beyond them in a point. The other hand rested on his shoulder, his hand on her waist. They'd, as always, start with a waltz.

At some point during the music Raoul would hum, the tempo would shift and become more lively. The most recent addition to Raoul's staff had been a maid that had come from Buenos Aires. She'd spoken of a new vision of music and dance that was growing in popularity, though it had yet to be embraced outside of the region. She'd demonstrated some of the steps with her husband, causing both Meg and Raoul to blush, but yet it intrigued them. It seemed rather cosmopolitan for the proper City of Paris, but then change oft did come on the wings of foreigners, and so would it be with this. Raoul had so hoped that they would learn more of it before the ball that would be arranged with the reopening of the Opera House. For he'd so intended to reintroduce Meg as a cultured woman, and one of intrigue in her own right. As he began to spin her round and round in the parlor, learning to avoid the tables and couches, he smiled.

She seemed to him much like a playmate, and yet was a beautiful woman. He learned these last months to focus on what pleased him, and push aside the unpleasant memories of a past that haunted him. His memories had become clouded and convoluted to the point he was uncertain what had been real and what his tortured mind had fabricated for convenience. He trusted they Barron implicitly, and through his care and Meg's love, he'd come to terms with what the truth had been. When he returned to Paris he would humbly accept the honor that awaited him, though the veracity would forever be in question in his own mind. If those who cared most for him assured him it was true, then he'd no reason to show doubt of it.

Meg and Raoul had moved gracefully round the parlor several times before in the small distance from the parlor to the library could be heard the soft tinkering of a piano. The maid had come to play for them, and now they smiled at one another. Perhaps they'd never quite come to be able to do all of what had been showed them, they most certainly could embrace the rhythm and the tempo. Raoul smiled at Meg, sliding his hand more securely around her waist, pulling her torso closer to his. She blushed. It was all part of the dance, though she knew the eyebrows would raise in Paris when first they saw it, but perhaps one day, it would become the fashion. For now it was something that she and Raoul enjoyed, and the doctor encouraged. The more intricate the movements, and the length of time they danced, the more Raoul seemed to heal, and that after all was the entire reason they'd come to Plum house in the first.

XXXXX

Lady C was out in the gardens. A large black parasol provided adequate shade to her porcelain skin. She'd tired of being indoors and today she was feeling a bit restless. She'd walked through the gardens identifying all of the plants and foliage by name. It was a little pleasure of hers thought it really made them no more or less beautiful to the eye.

She looked up as she saw Andre making his way down the path. He'd abandoned his formal top coat indoors, no doubt because of the heat. She smiled at him pleasantly. He'd long been a most faithful servant to her, and she'd admired that he'd not requested to be relieved in part of his duties so that he might find a wife. Surely a man of his age would be thinking of such things, though he seemed to be entirely content to be at her service. As he came along side her, he nodded, "good day your grace," he smiled, extending his arm to her. She took it as he escorted her to the small table and chairs in the midst of the coolest part of the garden.

"I've arranged for you to have tea here, if that meets with your approval." He looked at her for confirmation. She nodded. "The staff were able to bring up some ice from the chest in the hill. I do wonder that there is still some remaining there, but I though you might like to have some chilled tea with mint on such an afternoon." He smiled again as he pulled out the chair for her.

In the background Lady C could hear the tinking of the pitcher and glasses that were making their way down the path. "Andre, would you care to join me?"

He nodded, he'd send the maid back for another glass and plate. "They've a lovely lemon cake for you Lady C, it seemed a perfect accompaniment to the tea."

Soon the maid returned with the second glass, as Lady C and Andre had settled in to pleasant conversation. That specific spot in the garden was perfect. It overlooked Chauesser and yet seemed far removed from the world. The spot beheld the most gentle breezes that wafted over the hills making it refreshing to mind and spirit alike.

Andre laid down his silver fork, having taken his first bite of cake. It was, as the cook had promised, a delight. He smiled at Lady C. "Thank you, this is most kind. It is a lovely place to tarry on a warm afternoon."

She nodded. She'd never been one known to mince words, nor hold back what she was thinking, but with this young man she'd felt a bit different. She'd want to broach the subject just so that he'd neither be offended nor feel pressured. It required a degree of subtle eloquence. She inhaled, and began.

"Andre, you have been in my faithful service now for a good number of years, and I've come to rely on you in the most delicate of situations." She glanced at him, no sign yet that he felt uncomfortable, that was good. "During these years I've oft enjoyed your humor, appreciated your candor, and marveled at the poise you've so oft shown." She took a sip of tea, looking out on the City.

"Chauesser is a most wonderful City, and one for which I have the greatest affection. There are a number of good families there now, and if Monsieur Courtland and his wife return in the fall, I've no doubt that the City shall continue to flourish. There needs to be good influence in the City, and companions for the young families that are growing in number. Good examples of sound family life, of good values, of good character." She glanced over at Andre. He too was staring out at the City the same look of fondness that she herself felt in his eyes.

"Andre, I've thought a great while of ways to attract good families to our City, and it occurred to me, that we have under our own roof, those who might very well like to settle in the City itself rather than live in the servants quarters." She glanced over at him. He as yet showed any sign that he knew of her inclinations. "It would be only a short carriage ride for staff to travel back and forth, and truly once the sun begins to set, they aren't needed here, lest there be some great event which we are planning for."

Andre turned his head. He wondered at what she was suggesting.

Lady C smiled at him. "Andre have you yourself thought of perhaps taking up residence in the City? At some point, your service to me will come to an end, and I should want for you to have a place within the City should you desire to remain here."

Andre turned fully to gaze upon her. "You are well are you not my Lady?" A true tone of concern in his voice. She'd been like a mother to him.

She laughed, "yes, yes, quite well I assure you. I am, however, not growing younger with each passing day, and one day, you shall have need for a different place to live. If you were to consider settling in Chauesser it might be wise even now to consider if not a house, then perhaps some property on which to build one day." She glanced over at him, he was now staring at her, a hint of awareness now showing through.

"I've several parcels of land within the City that I shall be more than pleased to bequeath to you, in gratitude for your service to me." She did not even look lest she see protest in his eyes. "It is common knowledge that I've no siblings, nor heirs of my own to leave my estate to, and most would likely know that it will be for the benefit of the City of Chauesser, and several other small hamlets that my estate would come to. But in lieu of all those things, I have several others to whom I feel indebted, and you are among them sir." She paused, the next would be a bit more tricky, and knowing no other way, she came out with it forthright. "One day Andre I should think that you might have desire for a family of your own." Again, she'd not look in his direction. "It comes as little surprise to me that in your service here, there has been little opportunity for you to find anyone of either suitable age or breeding." She sighed, what would she say if this were her own son? "Andre, outside of pride in a job well done, there is a debt to oneself to make one happy. To find love and embrace it is a rare and wonderful thing. Having myself not known of the joys of marriage, I can duly council on the sorrows of having missed it." She sighed. "It is my intention that you sir, should not miss this. You have come to such an age that this must cross your mind. I should like very much for you to have opportunity to pursue a life beyond the one you have known here. We could arrange for a ball of sorts, something of a summer celebration, where you might perhaps have opportunity to meet…" she glanced over at Andre. He was blushing. Perhaps she had gone far beyond his comfort. "Andre, I do apologize if I've been too…" she paused, he'd turned to her.

"In truth dear Lady, I have given it some thought. If I might be so bold as to share…" he looked to her for assurance. She nodded. "There was a chance meeting some months ago at of all places the undertaker's establishment." He paused. It was the first he had verbalized his feelings to anyone. "A young lady, one in the employ of Monsieur Courtland."

Lady C's eyes lit up. "Misty?"

Andre nodded. "She's a quite intelligent young woman. We've exchanged several letters over the past months, and I have reason to believe that her feelings for me are growing as are mind for her." Andre was blushing. "Nothing has been discussed of course, and I've sent no letter of intention, for I'd not even considered it. But should that opportunity ever exist for us…" his voice trailed off. It seemed implausible that an arrangement could be made that would be suitable for both Lady C and Monsieur Courtland.

Lady C smiled and sighed. "I can assure you young man, that people are far more important to me than possessions. If such arrangements can be made, it would be good reason for the two household to come together for a proper dinner. Perhaps that would allow for conversation that may lead to far more." She smiled at Andre, tapping him on the knee. "It is good to see that you and I are of like minds. It gives my heart happiness to know that you have considered this Andre, much happiness." She patted his knee again.

Andre's heart had begun to pound. It was the first time in a great while he'd thought of himself. If Lady C would offer her blessing, and Misty would accept a letter of intention, then perhaps his future would hold far more than a life of happy servitude to this most gracious woman.

The pair sat for a long while sipping their tea in silence. It had been a most pleasant afternoon…a most pleasant one indeed.


	202. Where Hearts Lead

Chapter 202 Where Hearts Lead 

Nicole and the doctor had put her mother to rest in the cool of the darkened room at the back of his office. The building itself was in part tucked into a hillside, thus keeping it fresh and crisp most months of the year. His grandfather had, for that very reason, found it a favorable place to perform surgeries. The woman grew more restless with each passing day. The hot and humid air made it all the more difficult for her to breathe. A time was close at hand when Nicole might no longer leave her mother to work at the tavern, and though she worried for an income, John Paul had assured her she'd no need to. This was the eventuality for which he'd been grooming her, though nothing of the reality of the pain in watching someone die a slow and agonizing death could truly be prepared for.

He had been trying in his own way these last months, to bring this young woman some comfort, and the elder woman relief. It was the very feeling emanating from his gut now, in due relation to his efforts in their regard, that led him to a deep appreciation for the wise words of advice bestowed on him some years before by his grandfather. The man had seen in him what he had been unable to see in himself. His innate gifts were made far better use of as a physician in the preservation of life, than as a gatekeeper in tending to the morbidity of post rigor mortis.

"Nicole come, let us sip some tea. She shall rest now until the supper hour. I think the cool cucumber soup you've prepared for tonight shall be a welcome change for her." He pulled out the chair for Nicole as she dabbed at her brow coming to rest in the seat offered her.

"John, sometimes it is unbearable to watch." She stared down into the well of tea that was filling in her cup as John poured from the pot. It was a standard Earl Grey, all frivolity of lemon and cream forgotten on the hot afternoon.

John closed his eyes as he came to rest in the seat opposite Nicole's. "If only there was some way to alter the outcome my dear Nicole. I've written my professors, and they in turn have written to several in the America's who have had some marginal successes in treating respiratory failure. Though I've no doubt that they will respond, I've read of nothing in the medical journals of any new progress in this area."

He poured for himself a cup of tea, resting the pot between them. "Nicole, these months have been a test of endurance for your mother. Her admirable, steely tenacity, is the only explanation for her survival." He glanced up at Nicole as he leaned back in his chair, loosening his collar just a bit. He was as warm and discomforted as Nicole.

"I know my motives are entirely selfish. She's come to terms with her life, and the extent to which she can continue. I am not all that certain that she clings to this world instead of passing peacefully into the next for reasons that are beyond her own will to live. If there was some way to reassure her that it was alright, that she needn't worry, that like she, her daughter was built to survive." Nicole said, deep in thought.

John Paul looked at Nicole as she stared down into her tea. He'd admired this woman from the first, but each day he came to admire more deeply, the genuineness of her character, her steady resolve, her practicality. He smiled.

His mind insisted he stick to the strict letter of the agreement at which they'd arrived some months before. He tried solemnly to convince himself that the close physical proximity in which they had all lived this last while, would skew the reality of his growing affections for Nicole.

He glanced away from her. Yet his heart waged persuasive argument with his mind. She had been everything he'd ever wanted in a woman. She was strong, independent, yet deeply vulnerable when she felt she could trust someone. She made no pretenses, nor hollow promises. She was a woman of her word, and a hard worker. And yet on top of all of those things that made for a good life mate, she was a beauty in her own right. She'd grown a good deal in the time since her grandmother's death. A maturing of mind that by sheer chance coincided with the maturing of her physical strength and stature. She'd grown into a lovely young woman, and perhaps her sheer ignorance of her beauty made her all the more beautiful. He glanced up at her again. She was staring out the window into the gardens behind his office.

"The iris will soon be in bloom." She said smiling at him. "It is mother's favorite. She spoke often of the bearded iris that her own mother had planted all around their house when her father had gone off to war. They were symbolic of peace and the hope that her love would one day return to her." Nicole was staring out at some infinite point, utterly lost in the story swimming in her mind.

"The women in my family you see John, have grown quite accustomed to being alone. My mother, her mother, and her grandmother before her. Not one had their husband for any great length of years. For what wars did not claim, some insidious turn of health had. Perhaps that is why I've been thankful, in some immeasurable degree, not to have gone through such heartbreak myself." A sudden melancholy tone turned in her voice. She'd not really meant to begin this cheerless diatribe, it had, as so many other conversations before it, just grown in her thoughts spilling over her lips into the vast expanse of the air around her. It would have been the same had John Paul been there to witness it or not. She stared and stared, little if any expression crossing her face. She'd not even blink to interrupt the thought.

"Nicole," John Paul said, reaching out to put his hand over hers as it lay on the table.

She jerked, shaking her head, blinking as her eyes returned to him. "I implore you to forgive me John, my ramblings have little value in present circumstances. I know." She glanced at him, a blush on her cheeks, lifting her cup to sup from it. "You must think me a bitter and ungrateful sod." She laughed slightly, glancing over the rim of her cup at him.

John's gaze was as steady and reassuring as ever. Unlike Nicole, he'd not thought of marriage in the negative construct. In fact, until he'd met her, he'd not really thought much about it at all. There was simply something about her that afternoon, something he could not put his finger on, but something that beckoned him in a way that he could not fully describe.

He rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand, smiling at her. He glanced down, and then up again, into the depth of her eyes, and in that moment he knew what it was that he was feeling. He glanced at the door that lay some long feet away, behind which her mother lay fast asleep. He glanced back at Nicole, and without hesitation he carefully slid his hand from atop hers to beneath it, carefully taking hers up into his.

Nicole smiled at John Paul, he was, as he had been since she met him. Comforting and assuring.

"Nicole, perhaps it is, as you suggest, your mother's stubbornness that causes her to hang on long after most would have given up. I too sense that she is waiting…waiting for something." His gaze never wavered. In the heat of that June afternoon, in what little bit of coolness the two could find in the center of his office, there they sat, he holding her hand in his. Unlike most other afternoons they'd found themselves in similar situation, this afternoon would end quite differently. He squeezed her hand. "Perhaps your mother waits for what she knows in her heart to come to fruition."

Nicole felt as John Paul began to stroke the palm of her hand with his thumb. She'd such an admiration for this man, and yet there was something more she felt…something she tried to push aside for the sake of all concerned, and yet, this afternoon she felt it in spades.

"Nicole, perhaps your mother waits for you to find comfort in the arms of someone who will pledge to love you, and care for you." He looked at her with a warm sincere smile. "Perhaps she wishes for you to have the happiness she so oft speaks of having with your father."

He glanced down at their hands just briefly, slightly turning in his chair to face her more fully. He reached out taking her other hand into his. In that moment all question in his mind was somehow dissolving. It was the situation, the time, the things they'd been through thus far, the memories they'd in common about his grandfather, this City, it was as if everything had mysteriously fallen into place.

Nicole cocked her head slightly to one side. She was hot, she was in her work clothes, she was at her worst, and yet her heart was fluttering. To what point was his conversation leading?

"Nicole, you know so very much about me now…so many conversations spent up talking into the wee hours, my preference of meal, the organization of my library, my finances, the history of my family…" his voice trailed off. He swallowed. "And I….I've come to know your family, of your past, of your trials…." He hesitated just slightly, "of your sacrifices." He glanced down and then up into the vulnerable glow of her glance. "Nicole, I believe I know what your mother waits for….it is what you and I…" he blinked, was she crying?

Nicole's lower lip began quivering. In these days, weeks, and months spent in one another's company, could it be possible that had he grown to feel what she had been trying so desperately to deny? She blinked, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly, reassuring John Paul.

"Nicole, why have we danced about this issue pretending not to notice how we've both grown to feel?" He inhaled, she'd not respond, knowing full well it was a rhetorical question. "In normal circumstances a long period could take place now, something deemed to be suitable, but my dear Nicole, the hour of the day grows late, and time is of the essence for a woman for whom we both care."

John Paul looked at Nicole; he breathed a small sigh of relief, her eyes held no fear nor reticence. Before Nicole could gasp, John Paul was on his knee in front of her, taking both of her hands into his. He looked down, inhaling deeply only once before he looked up into her eyes.

Nicole was smiling widely, a tear running down either side of her cheeks. She tightened her grip on his hand.

John Paul smiled, his eyes twinkling in the beaming shafts of afternoon sun that made their way through the windowpane.

Just beyond them, they'd not noticed a door, opened just a sliver. Behind it, Nicole's mother kneeled on the floor, tears running freely down her cheeks and dropping onto her chest. She'd risen for a drink of water for her parched tongue. What she would bare witness to now would satisfy the deepest longings of her soul. Perhaps it was God Himself who'd woken her from her slumber, for in that moment she would witness His gift to her…a prayer finally answered. And she would be like Lazarus, finally having seen that which she prayed for, she would now be ready to make her way peacefully to the hereafter.

"Nicole," John Paul said.

"Yes," she replied in a nearly breathless tone.

"I've something that I must ask you."

The pair locked eyes, and in that time and place in the infinite continuum, there existed nary another thing on this earth, except that man and that woman, in that place.

XXXX

Raoul and Meg were laughing heartily as they came to rest on the divan in the library. They'd danced up an enormous thirst, which was to be quickly satiated by the sweetened tea that was even now being carried in on a platter with a large plate of grapes and cut melon. Raoul nodded as Madeline smiled at him sitting it on the table in front of the pair.

"Better now, each day better." Madeline said as she turned to leave the room.

"Yes, I am feeling better, thank you Madeline." He smiled at Meg, "perhaps it is Meg's good care that…"

Madeline interrupted, turning around to look at them both with a slight grin and a twinkle in her eye. "Not health…" she laughed, "dance better, every day little more." She smiled and nodded, as she turned to leave.

Raoul and Meg blinked as they looked at each other, and then they began to laugh again, each taking a long drink from the refreshing liquid in the crystal glasses. It was good physical activity, at the behest of the Barron for both of their sakes. If it provided some amusement for those who happened to witness it, then so be it. It was indeed something that they could honestly say that they had neither known before, and was something they had discovered together. Yet a bit of living mortar that fused their future memory, by created memory.

Raoul smiled at Meg, "are you tired my dear?" He laughed just slightly as the question was a bit unnecessary. Meg was trying to hide the pant of her breath.

"Not tired Raoul, a pleasant sort of expended perhaps, but tired not of any sort!" She said teasingly smiling at him as she took a small bunch of grapes into her hands and began to carefully pluck them one by one from the small vine that held them. She reached out pressing a plump scarlet fruit to Raoul's lips. "You simply must try them, they are succulent!" She smiled as Raoul opened his lips just slightly allowing the fruit, and the tip of Meg's finger to slide easily into his mouth.

A bit of mischievousness ran through him, and as Meg attempted with apology, to reclaim her finger from his lips, he tightened his teeth around the tip of her finger. He grinned.

"Raoul!" Meg began to laugh.

Raoul sat down his glass and slid across the divan, taking Meg into his arms, releasing his grip on her finger once she was safely in the grasp of his arms. "My dearest Meg, you are as sweet as this fruit, and far sweeter!" He kissed her cheek before guiding her head to his shoulder so that they might embrace one another fully.

The pair closed their eyes. There was something fulfilling and soothing about the embraces they shared. Each one led to a greater feeling of unity and assuredness that the feelings they'd had back at the winter house, and then at Raoul's and the time they'd subsequently spent at Plum house may have been born out of tragedy and circumstance, but had grown into something very real. A little more every day it became apparent to the two of them, that they would likely return to Paris two very different people, and perhaps more coupled than when they'd arrived at Plum house.

Raoul sighed, releasing Meg just slightly so he might gaze into her eyes. "What would you like to do with the remainder of our afternoon my love?"

Meg blushed, she so loved to hear those words roll off of Raoul's tongue. She'd not care what they did, as long as they were in one another's company.

XXXXX

Nadir and Madame Giry enjoyed the cooling of the afternoon as the sun had begun to decline in the Western sky. Sunset was yet hours off, but the temporary heat of the high summer sun was beginning to wane. Nadir thought about asking the carriage driver to lower the top of the carriage slightly allowing in more light, but had decided against it as it protected them against the whipping of the branches of the orchards in full bloom that they now traveled through. It was the final leg of their travels through the gardens, and it provided a splendid variation to the normal flora they'd been sampling of the last hour as they'd ridden through the gardens. There was little else like the heady scents of flowering plum, apple, and pear.

As the carriage meandered on Nadir felt guilty for even thinking of spoiling the afternoon with news of his departure on the morrow. He sighed. If he'd not tell her of it now, his abrupt departure would be even less welcome. Nadir glanced over at Madame Giry who smiled at him.

"This has been a most pleasant distraction Nadir, thank you for the arrangement of the carriage and…" her brow raised, "whatever is it Nadir?" She'd spent enough time with the man to know there was something which he had need to tell her that he was most uncertain she'd want to hear. "Go on then Nadir…" she said nodding at him, reaching out her white-gloved hand to pat his.

Nadir looked down and was about to speak when he heard in the distance the tolling of the bell in the church tower. His brow furrowed as it rang a fifth time. Whatever was it? He withdrew his pocket watch flipping open the face. It was three fifteen.

"Something is wrong." He said sitting up straight looking up at the carriage driver that had turned to glance at him for instruction. "Let us return straight away good sir."

The driver turned round, taking the reins in his hands quickly urging the horses on at a more rapid pace. They'd be abandoning the remainder of their visit. Something was indeed wrong for the bells only tolled at odd hours with the death of someone of importance or the sighting of an invasion. Whatever it was, they'd return post haste.

Madame Giry slid over into Nadir's embrace as the pair sat silently for the ride back into the heart of Paris. Whatever it was, they'd face it together.

XXXXXX

The man held in his sweaty grip the rope that attached to the bell. At the behest of those in government he'd toll the bell a dozen times. He himself a literary novice had admired the work of the man. He'd eagerly anticipated the final work which he knew the man had been struggling to finish. Now the world would never know the ending to the story…it would forever remain unfinished. The death of such a genius would be a sad loss for reader and aspiring writers alike. Though he were a tormented man his brilliance was unmatched. The death of Charles Dickens that fateful day in June would forever change the literary world, and bring to a close an era of writing that would be read with great fascination for years and years to come.

XXXXX

Erik stretched just slightly, a chill made him shudder. He looked down exhaling. Christine was still nestled in his arms. Sometime after she'd fallen asleep in his lap he'd closed his eyes, leaning back against the bench. He remembered being comfortable and content and little else after that.

He looked beyond the vine that formed a protective covering from both light and weather to see that the sky had grown dark gray and that even now he'd seen what he thought might be a flash of lightening. Perhaps the heat was giving way precipitously to a summer storm. He sat up, moving Christine slightly. It would be a welcome relief, for after a storm would come the cooling evening breezes and the fresh scents rising from the earth.

He kissed Christine's forehead. It was time to take her inside. He smiled looking down at her, then glanced around thinking about the moment they were in. There in that candle-lit haven he sat with his pregnant wife in his arms, paying homage to her parents, and basking of the glow of the promising life that lay before them. He closed his eyes for just a moment, raising a silent prayer.

"Thank you Lord, for all you've graciously bestowed on us. Let us never forget your generosity or kindness, and forever be thankful to you in all things." He kissed Christine's temple once more sliding his arms under her knees, the other under her shoulders standing to glance at a shadow that appeared at the entrance to the vine covered haven. There was Misty, standing dutifully with a wide umbrella.

"Come Monsieur, before the rains come. The sea grows angry, and the clouds are heavy, it shan't be long before the skies open and spill forth."

Erik looked at Misty who was now hanging on tightly to the umbrella as it began to waiver in her hand. The wind had come up tugging at the fullness of the fabric. It would indeed be a bit more of a storm than a gentle summer rain. It was indeed time to move indoors and hunker down. He looked down at Christine who'd woken just slightly looking up at him with groggy eyes.

"Erik?" she said in a hushed tone.

"It's just a storm my love, do not worry, we'll be indoors soon. He carried her over, leaning down to blow out the candles they'd lit for her mother and father, then he turned to go out to join Misty.

Misty raised the umbrella as far as her arm would allow providing cover to Erik.

He crouched as low as he might, the pair running toward the house. He glanced over his shoulder but once as they crossed the lawn. The sky above the sea looked angry, in the fullness of the rolling clouds he could see the sporadic burst of light. It would be a good storm indeed. In the morning the grasses would be greener, the foliage shiny and prolific. There was one surety after a storm…whatever survived it was a bit tougher, and more full of life than it had been before it.

They'd barely made it indoors when the skies opened and the rains fell so heavily it looked more akin to sheets of water falling from the heavens than drops of rain melding to make momentary rivers in the lawn rushing down to join the churning waters in the sea below the craggy cliff beyond the house.

Erik stood with Christine wrapped in the protective expanse of his arms as they looked out at the light show that nature provided as the currents of light moved across the darkened sky. There was something powerfully beautiful about watching a storm. Though it could rage with such ferocity, mother nature herself somehow provided protection to all those things the surges of the storm produced. It was pruning of sorts, the weakest elements being purged and removed with rain and the accompanying winds.

Christine turned placing a tickling kiss on Erik's neck. She smiled as he turned down to place a delicate peck on her nose.

She turned wrapping her arms around his waist. "I love you Erik."

"And I love you Christine," he said placing a kiss on the top of her head, as he turned to the side so they might both gaze out the window at nature's display.

They watched a long while as lightening traveled along the sky, emerging in brilliant bursts from time to time, it's fiery tongue lashing out at distant points on the water. The storm moved ever closer, causing Erik to finally retreat with Christine to their bedchambers. Yes, she'd napped, he'd napped in the grotto, but it would not suffice in his opinion. She'd need to recline, he needed to stretch. There was little else to be done on a stormy afternoon when one was sleepy. He could think of nothing more pleasant than to spend a stormy afternoon with Christine in his arms in the privacy of their quarters.

As he carried Christine up the stairs he nodded as Misty opened the door and retreated. Erik pushed the door open just slightly to notice that a small fire had been drawn in the hearth, no doubt to ward off any chill that might come from the storm. Several large candles had been lit, further pushing aside any resulting gloom that might come from a prematurely darkened afternoon sky. He smiled. Misty had thought of everything. As he closed the door behind him, he took note of the small pot of tea and plate of chocolates that lay off on the table not far from the bed. She'd grown so very accustomed to Christine's cravings, she'd anticipated the request so they might have privacy.

Erik sat Christine down on the side of the bed, turning to remove his jacket. He smiled as he heard Christine's shoes drop to the floor. He turned to find her reclining on the bed, smoothing her hand over the covers patting her hand. He smiled at her as he came to rest next to her, taking her once more into his arms.

One tender kiss leading to another, until they found themselves tenderly sharing themselves with one another. Though their passions burned a bit more carefully now, it did little to dim the joy they found in one another's affections. Though Erik worried, both Christine and the doctor had assured him they would know when the time came that they could no longer lie together as they did now. That day had not yet come, and through the careful surrender they loved one another as they had since the day they married, completely and without reservation.


	203. Unexpected Changes

**Chapter 203 Unexpected**

**Dear Faithfuls**: It seems that I have been doing a considerable amount of apologizing lately! This chapter will be a bit rough around the edges, as I've just received word of a family emergency that will keep me away from everything again now until Sunday. I hope that you can understand and bear with me.

XXXXX

Erik and Christine lay in each other's arms listening to the thunder rolling outside. Erik reached over smoothing his hand over Christine's abdomen. She smiled at him, their hands joining, fingers intertwining as they came to rest on Christine's navel.

Christine exhaled slowly rolling over the remainder of the way so she lay on her back. Her elbow bent, she slid it up behind her head, pushing the hair away from her neck. She was so very warm.

Erik gently dabbed his fingers above her brow; it was damp with beaded sweat. "The cooling breezes will come soon enough Christine, once the storm waivers." He smoothed his hand over her forehead, tracing the side of her cheek with the back of his forefinger. He ran it down her chin, onto her neck, over her collarbone, tracing her outline until his hand came to rest once more over her stomach. He smiled as he looked at the growing swell in Christine's middle. It was always evident now, but never more so than when she lay on her back, her flesh exposed to his eyes.

What a marvel it was to partake of this process…this creation of life. The perception of it was much altered when one could watch the progress, day-by-day, the changes in the mother's body. It stretched and grew to provide safe haven for the lives growing within her womb. Erik's only point of reference for the discomfort he imagined Christine felt, was his own experience with an injured limb when it would swell. Flesh having to make way for the flesh…he couldn't imagine it would be comfortable for her, though she never complained. Erik's eyes wandered Christine's frame, taking in the utter beauty of it. Not in a way a man is pleased with a woman, but at the sheer beauty of God's creation, it truly was a magnificent.

Erik looked up as Christine moved her arm beneath her head, lifting her hair once more, fanning her neck with it before bringing her head to rest on Erik's forearm. He smiled. Her tolerance for heat had rapidly diminished as her mid-section had grown. Her cheeks were a bit fuller, and a much improved rosy glow was nearly always in them. The doctor had assured he and Christine that this was a good sign, one of a healthy mother. Christine exhaled again, a sheen growing on her skin. Erik looked at her face. Her eyes were half-closed, and he'd no doubt if it were not for the rumble of the thunder, and the heat that settled upon her, she'd already have made her way off to sleep.

Erik smiled, inhaling, then blowing gently across Christine's forehead and neck. She exhaled, "that is wonderful Erik, simply wonderful." He smiled, and over the next half- hour Erik found himself cooling Christine's too-warm flesh with the gentle breath from his lungs. She'd smiled until at one point her face began to lose expression. Erik was entirely pleased with himself; she'd fallen asleep.

He laid his hand gently over her stomach. Beneath the surface Erik could see what he could only assume to be limbs moving, pressing against the wall of her flesh as though it could reach right through the navel into the outside world. His eyes welling with pride, he brought his lips close to flesh that moved while Christine slept. He began to gently hum. Slowly but surely, with his had resting over her stomach, he began to sing, quietly, gently. The moving slowed, and eventually quieted. He face reflected the joy he felt, his eyes beaming with undulating adoration. He'd spent time alone with his child, sharing his music with her in her mother's womb, and he'd done so without waking Christine. He smiled again, coming to rest next to her, taking her sleeping form carefully into his arms. It had been a good afternoon. If it gave way to evening even now, he'd consider it a day well spent.

In the distance, the thunder rolled, and just outside the ornate window pane that was partially open, Erik could hear the patter of a gentle summer's rain. Soon the air would cool, and the warmth from the small fire might very well be welcome comfort.

XXXX

Lady C nodded as the maid came to retrieve the tray, and glasses they'd emptied. She and Andre had visited all afternoon, talking of serious things, and those much less so. She'd a specific parcel of land in mind. At present it was in the corner of Chauesser beyond which lay rich soils, and several natural orchards. It was perhaps not the first place one might look to build, but as with so many other thing, she was often the only one that saw the potential of the un-groomed beauty of it. Andre knew it well, and agreed that with some work, a house could be erected there. There was certainly enough land, and because of its proximity to the edge of the City it would provide him with access to Lady C's should the need arise.

"Now Andre, there are several carpenters in the City, and I've no doubt they could do a most splendid job. Perhaps you could arrange for a meeting." She moved about slightly in the chair looking off in the distance. She could see the dark ridge of what appeared to be a storm front far off on the horizon. "It looks as if a storm is brewing there," she said nodding her head in the direction of the smoky ridge of distant clouds.

Andre nodded. "Yes, it will no doubt be an evening of interest. Perhaps we should head indoors. The windows should be prepared if there is a storm coming." Andre stood, extending his arm to Lady C. She rose, accepting it graciously. As they began to stroll towards the house he said, "I'll send someone back for…" and as if by magic the maid had appeared, platter in hand to retrieve the dishes.

"Andre, I should think you'll want at the very least two stories, and five bedrooms, perhaps six." Lady C was beginning to imagine what he might need. Encouraged by the fact that he'd professed his interest in a young woman whom it seemed was fortunate to be in the service of another fine family.

Andre laughed. "If I may say so, dear Lady, I've just come to accepting the consideration of such things," he coughed, "of all this would entail and imply." He smiled as Lady C patted his arm. She understood, though he knew she was a woman who once set upon an idea, saw it through to the finish. The subject would no doubt become part of daily conversation until the last curtain was hung in the window, and pot of flowers sat by the door.

"Yes of course Andre, I might be getting a bit ahead of myself." She smiled up at him, realizing she'd been doing much more of that these last months. "It could go without saying that a lady might very much like to have some say in the way in which her house were to be built!" She smiled again, patting his arm once more. She was, as always, forward in her words….and Andre knew that better than anyone else. DeChagny rose from his tea in the Opera House. There had been such a fuss outside, he wondered if more of Raoul's undying admirers had come again to pay homage to the man they knew quite well was not there. Whilst he had to admit he was indeed proud of his son, and it certainly did not hurt the name of DeChagny, he'd grown somewhat tired of the attention, nearly wishing they'd withdraw until such time as Raoul returned to Paris. As he made his way down the marble stairs he was met by Nadir and Madame Giry.

"What is the commotion, do not tell me that they've…" his voice dropped off, it was not as he had assumed.

Nadir shook his head. "It is the death of the City's great story teller I'm afraid sir. They found Dickens dead this very day." He said as he and Madame Giry nodded in greeting to the DeChagny.

"I see," DeChagny said scratching at his chin. He himself was not a literary buff, nor was he inclined when he did read to read fiction, if he read fiction, it was certainly not that of any of the contemporaries. "I suppose it is a great loss for the citizens who appreciate that sort of thing." He nodded, feigning concern.

Madame Giry pursed her lips looking down. The man obviously had never read one of Dickens novels, for if he had, he would not greet such news with such flippancy. "He was a brilliant literary, he shall be sorely missed.'

"Yes, yes, of course." DeChagny paused for a moment. He inhaled, turning to face Nadir. "I trust that everything is in good order for your journey on the morrow then good sir?"

Nadir winced. He'd not had opportunity to broach this very subject with Antoinette. He turned to her. Her face was stoic. "Yes sir, I leave by carriage just after breakfast. And may I thank you for your generosity, it was truly not necessary for you to offer your carriage."

DeChagny's chest swelled with pride, "nonsense. I'll not have the Opera Populaire historian traveling in some non-descript carriage. It is a lengthy journey, and you'll have need to be comfortable." Secretly he wished he'd be joining Nadir on the journey. He so wished to walk the streets of Chauesser once more, if but for a brief journey down memory lane. But there was no plausible reason that he'd have need to go.

Madame Giry, as politely as she could excused herself. "Monsieur," she nodded at DeChagny, "Nadir," she nodded. "Good afternoon to you gentlemen." She turned and ascended the stairs.

DeChagny watched as Madame Giry made her way up to the landing and on to the long corridor that led to the upper chambers and chorus dormitories. He turned to Nadir. "She is quite a strong woman is she not?" He smiled' expecting Nadir to agree, before DeChagny changed the subject.

"She is a rare treasure sir. I shan't hope to have offended her." Nadir said watching as the last of her skirt disappeared down the hall. He turned to DeChagny. "I'd not yet told her of my journey. You see we've kept the schedule of dining you'd requested at the Starboard, and so to be without a dinner companion, she likely will not venture out. I'd planned to tell her this afternoon, but then with the commotion caused by Dickens' death, it never seemed to make it to discussion."

DeChagny glanced down smiling to himself. Nadir's affections for Madame Giry were certainly not a well-kept secret, and anyone that knew her could tell by looking at Madame Giry that the feelings were mutual. "Nadir, do not worry, she hardly seems the sort to hold a grudge." He fidgeted with his pocket watch before adding further, "if it is her dinner companion that you worry for, I can make arrangements to dine with her at the very least thrice the week you are absent."

Nadir instinctively felt a twinge of jealousy, quickly dismissing it as utter foolishness. "If she is so inclined, and you've the time sir, it might very well give you and she opportunity to discuss the future of your children." Nadir rubbed his chin, he'd been meaning to ask. "How has Raoul faired at your summer retreat?" he paused, "have you a sense for when he might be returning?" Nadir wished very much that he might have opportunity to visit with Meg when he returned to Paris. He'd not seen her in months, and he was confident his visit to Chauesser might very well produce something that the pair could put together as a piece of the elaborate puzzle.

"I'll have a better sense of things on the morrow. I'm going to dine with them this evening." DeChagny glanced down at his pocket watch. "In fact I ought to be leaving momentarily if I've any hope of arriving in time for dinner." He smiled at Nadir. "Is there anything my friend that I might do for you before your journey?"

Nadir shook his head to decline. "I've everything I need. I plan to return to Paris with as much information as I might find." Nadir thought to himself, even more than DeChagny could ever imagine.

"I best be on my way Nadir. Do take care of yourself. Do not worry for Madame Giry, I shall send her dinner invitations during your absence. I shall look after her whilst you are gone. Indeed, she and I should spend time discussing Meg's progress. She's become quite the student." DeChagny nodded and left.

Nadir looked up at the stairs. He needed to go to her, explain to her that he'd intended to tell her. He'd not wanted her to find out in such a way. He'd no doubt she would be understanding, though no doubt her feelings would be wounded. They'd spent at least a portion of day with one another since Meg had left. When Nadir left the City, Madame Giry would be alone, and that no doubt would be what would cause her the greatest grief.

He sighed as he began the climb. He'd apologize first for the delivery of such news by someone other than himself. Then he would begin the long explanation of the hows and why's, and in this case more specifically the were. That would matter to her as much as anything else.

XXXXXXXX

In the lower levels of the Opera House the propsmaster rested from his toils of the day. He'd toiled for hours a day the last four weeks, creating props of all sorts for what was to be the production to end all productions. It would be grand, and the illusion that things were larger than life itself was center point in the focus of set design. Tonight he'd be taking his dinner as usual by himself. Tonight reading would include something from a selection of cook books. Though the agreement had been fulfilled weeks before, the woman had continued to come each Sunday evening for dinner. As of yet he'd not repeated any course, and now he'd a reputation to keep, if only for one person. They'd grown rather close during the last visits. It was somehow the fact she'd continued to come after her sentence was complete, that said far more about her character than any words might use. He'd already served pork, and beef of several varieties. He smiled as he turned the page. There before his was a whole

XXXX

Raoul and Meg rose from their reading when Madeline came into the library to announce that dinner was to be served. Tonight they were expecting that Raoul's father would visit, but he'd yet to arrive. Perhaps he'd come fashionably late, taking in the main course and dessert, in lieu of starting with the delicate salad of blue cheese, pears, and the tender greens that had been picked from the garden that afternoon.

"Meg, I do wish you'd read something a bit lighter now and again. My sister has brought you countless things to read of ladies fashion, and you've yet to make any selections." Raoul said to her as he escorted her at a meandering pace out into the corridor that led to the dining room. He glanced at her, the turn of her head told him they'd already discussed this issue.

"Raoul," Meg said, smoothing her hand along his arm, "you've already given me so many lovely dresses, some I've not even had opportunity to wear! Would it not seem wasteful to buy yet more when all of these are still in fine condition?" She glanced at his smiling face, though the disappointment was difficult to conceal.

Raoul pulled out the chair for Meg, sliding it in underneath her as she pulled the layers of her dress from the back of her. "It is simply that, my dear…." Raoul hesitated as he walked the few steps to where his chair had been pulled out for him, and took his place as properly as ever at the other end. "Women in Paris, they tend to…things seem to last no more than a season, and I want you not to feel slighted in any way when return to the City." He exhaled. This was difficult for Meg, he knew.

"My dear Raoul, I'd not want you embarrassed of me, if that is the case my love…" she turned her head down looking at the napkin that Madeline had laid across her lap.

Raoul laughed, a soft laugh nearly under his breath. "Meg, it matters little to me what others think, you of all people should know that more than anyone. It is my urgency to have you feel every bit a part of that society when we return, I shan't have you wanting for anything whilst I am able to provide it for you."

Meg watched as a bottle of wine was presented to Raoul. After having sampled it, rolling it around on his palette, smacking his tongue lightly, he nodded. The glasses were then poured. "Raoul, it has not been my habit to spend money which is not necessary, and further more, money that does not belong to me. It is but on your good graces I've been permitted to accompany you here." She glanced down. She'd not be so presumptuous as to count as hers that which was not. Raoul had told her of his intentions, but indeed, she was not yet betrothed.

Raoul was shaking his head as the salad plates were sat before them. Madeline brought in a small loaf of French bread warm from the oven, slicing it for them as they bowed their heads to say grace.

Once Madeline had left the room, she pulled the pocket doors to the dining room closed behind her. Plum house was by all accounts larger than some homes, but it was but half the house that DeChagny Manor was. As such privacy was a bit trickier beast, and it was obvious that Raoul and Meg would likely be needing a bit of that just now.

Raoul did not even pick up his fork. He held his glass of wine in his hand. They'd never really argued, and it would be a certainty that this would not be worthy of words spoken in haste. "Meg, while no proper engagement has been announced, you and I have behaved as though we were ever since the moment I slipped my grandmother's ring on your finger."

Meg began to unconsciously twirl the ring about on her finger. She sighed, it had been an entirely pleasant afternoon, and she was saddened now that she'd not simply agreed to this simple request, though it was a matter of principal.

Raoul sipped from his glass, looking down the length of the table at Meg. "You know as well as I that there shan't be a thing in this world that I would deny you." A small tinge of pleading in his voice.

Meg looked up, and as honestly as she could manage she would explain. "Raoul, I have come by much at your gracious generosity. I dare say I've more garments now than I've had the entirety of my life." She smiled at him. "You have been a dear soul, and I'd not want for you to ever feel that I am ungrateful for what you've given me." She swallowed, this would be the first she'd referenced their difference in social ranking, and perhaps the last. "Having been adequately cared for, I'd not wanted for many things when I was a little girl. I was content to be with my mother, with…" she hesitated, she'd nearly spoken the name which would have wounded him. "Never in all of those years did I once feel truly lacking. Now faced with the decision to select elaborate garments that would cost so much…"

Raoul was on his feet and at Meg's side before she'd even had time to finish her sentence. "Meg, let us not mince words. I know it troubles you to have such elaborate things, and it causes you grief even more that it is not your own funds you expend." He sighed, he'd thought about this so many times, and had hoped for a much different setting and place. He took Meg's hand into his.

Meg was staring down into his eyes. He looked far more serious than he had an hour before when she'd sat, his head in her lap, the pair reading in the library. The look on his face now was much less relaxed, much more intent. "Raoul?"

Raoul looked at the salad plates, and the glasses of half-drunk wine. "Please sit, I shall return in but a moment's time." He barely waited for her acknowledgement before he released her hand and departed through the doors, pulling them closed behind him.

Meg sat in utter confusion. Why had he abandoned dinner? Now more than before she'd wished she could take back her utterances. After all he'd already given her, what more would it have hurt her to accept a few more? If it pleased him to give them to her, then should she not oblige? Meg turned her head, she could hear muffled talking beyond the door, then footsteps on the stairs, and then silence. She'd sat for what must have been fifteen minutes before Raoul returned, looking much more relaxed, a wide smile on his face.

Raoul walked over to her, extending his hand. "Are you opposed to waiting for dinner Meg?" He looked at her with sincere eyes.

Meg was so uncertain of why the question, and why the meal interrupted that she shook her head from side to side. She drew her brows together.

"We shall wait until my father arrives. Madeline will see to the salads." Raoul said as he took her hand, assisting her to rise. He walked toward the door, he opened it for Meg. He smiled at her, and for the first time she saw a glimmer of something in his eyes.

She'd no idea what he intended, but whatever it was, it was the first time he'd ever interrupted a meal. Meg followed him through the door, and down the hallway toward the back of the house. He opened yet another door, taking her out onto the veranda. There were several candles lit as the sun had begun to set. The crickets were chirping, and all sounds of the forest were coming to life. The heat of the summer's afternoon was dissipating. It was most pleasant.

Raoul smiled as he closed the door behind him. Though he'd wished for something far more elaborate, there was no reason to wait. They'd be returning to Paris by the first part of July. The Opera House was scheduled to have its premier on the 15th of the month. It was a month away, more than enough time for them to bask in the glow of things. He smiled as he watched Meg walk a short distance on the veranda overlooking the gardens. He inhaled, he was never more certain of anything in his life than he was right at that moment.

Meg turned to looked at him, "Raoul?"

He smiled walking toward her with arms outstretched. This would be a night to remember.


	204. Enchanted Evening

Chapter 204 Enchanted Evening 

Dearest Faithfuls:

Thank you once again for your patience. Though my obligations are not yet finished, I will try to be diligent and update at least twice a week. It seems that right now this story is nearly the only constant I have in my life. Again thank you for staying with the story, and being patient with the craziness that can so often interrupt the best laid plans of this author!

Nadir knocked softly on the door to Madame Giry's quarters. At first, no response came. He knocked several more times, and readied to retreat in order that he might write a note of apology instead. The door opened just slightly; Nadir peered inside. Madame Giry was moving away from it without response. He looked down at the ground and closed his eyes as he went in drawing the doors in behind him. Tonight they still had opportunity for private conversation, being the only breathing souls on the entire upper floors. He knew it would not be long when the Opera House would be brimming and overflowing. He could only pray that she would be willing to listen.

Madame Giry had gone into the sitting room where several lamps were already glowing in preparation for the descending evening. She'd been crafting a letter to Meg; something she did often in the twilight hours. It was then that she could think clearly and allow herself to be a bit unguarded. The letter would have to be abandoned now. She positioned herself in the center of the divan, leaving no room on either side of her for Nadir to sit. It would be his cue that if he wished to speak to her, he'd have to do so sitting on the divan across from the one she now occupied.

She wasn't angry, as she was certain Nadir would imagine her to be. Rather she was hurt, if not a bit unsettled by her reactions. In truth they both confused and terrified her. Her usual behavior was to maintain a stoic demeanor; for the most part she had, with everyone aside from Meg, Erik, and Christine. They had been the only ones for whom she'd cared in a fiercely loyal way. To find herself being able to be hurt by Nadir in this way meant only one thing to her…that she'd let him fully into her heart. It had happened little by little, like a small trickle begins from a melting glacier, so slight at first that no one notices. But then, seemingly by mystery, a glittering lake exists where a frozen form once resided. She glanced up at Nadir as he came in, taking his place across from her. Before he'd even rested on the divan, she knew in her heart she'd already forgiven him.

"Antoinette, there is little I could say in offer of apology." Nadir's eyes had yet to rise to meet hers. "To tell you simply that I'd intended to tell you, seems of little use now, as my lack of having done so seems much more as though I'd intended to keep this knowledge from you." Closing his eyes he inhaled, his head rising to look at her.

Madame Giry's gaze was fixed. She'd tried not to allow her face to take the stony lack of expression that was so characteristic of her when she felt vulnerable; for Nadir deserved far more.

"Antoinette….forgive my impudence. In my attempt to protect you from worry, I've made a grievous error, and injured you all the more. I know you shan't have been troubled by the knowledge that I was to travel to Chauesser. We've had a wonderful length of days together that have seemed a dream to me." He paused, glancing down once more, "and perhaps that accounts for my own hesitancy to interrupt such splendor, that gave me pause to tell you of my departure." He paused glancing down at his hands. He'd began rolling and fidgeting with them, a habit that Erik had taught him was a sign of weakness and vulnerability; the mere thought of his words echoing in his head caused him to smile. "I'll be gone two weeks, no more; that is my solemn vow to you. As historian I've been compelled…."

Madame Giry rose from the divan walking abruptly to the porticos leading out to the veranda. Pushing the doors open, she pressed through them out onto the stony ledge at the end beyond the statue. She'd felt a surge of tears welling within her. In the last two months she'd said goodbye to Erik, to Christine, to Meg, and now….she'd bid Nadir goodbye as well. It was irrational, it was nonsensical, but the tears came all the same. She'd never been that alone, that separated from all she loved. Though she knew them all to be well, and perhaps as happy as they'd ever been, she could not help but miss them bitterly. Perhaps having a life devoted to loving and protecting them had caused this, for she'd felt as though her insides had been turned outward, exposing her inner most organs to the world.

Nadir was swift in his reaction. Before her shoulders had even begun to shake from the tears that were beginning their ravages on her, he had her in his arms, guiding her head gently to his shoulder. If anyone could understand what it was to be separated from all that they loved, it would be Nadir. As he held her, carefully stroking her neck and back, his other arm drew her closer to him. It would be the last time he'd ever try to spare her, for in the end, he'd wounded her far more than the truth from the first would ever have. It had been a long while since he'd cared for someone in this way. He sighed, lightly brushing his lips over her temple. He was learning, all over again, the tender nuances of loving a woman.

XXXXX

Nicole was shivering. She and John Paul had conversed a long while after she'd pulled him from the ground, bidding him to come to rest next to her. She knew she'd interrupted what she could only assume would have been a proposal. She'd not wanted to seem callous, but she'd reacted out of fear. Her only hope was that she'd not given him the impression that she'd refuse him. His reaction had not been negative, a bit bewildered yes, but certainly not negative.

"Nicole, the afternoon has slipped from us. Your mother will be waking soon." He inhaled. They'd had a pleasant, though initially confusing conversation. They'd talked for hours as the sun had begun to sink in the Western horizon. "I think perhaps, if you'd not mind at all, I'd like very much to take you and your mother to dinner, should she feel up to it." He rose, gently placing Nicole's hands in her lap, immediately missing her touch as he did.

Nicole looked up at him as he stood to his full height stretching a bit. She'd not mention the cucumber soup that would surely go to waste now. It was a trifle in comparison to what he suggested, and she'd not want to seem ungrateful for the invitation. "I'd need a bit of time to make myself presentable," she said as she stood too, stretching slightly.

John Paul smiled down at her. He wanted to tell her she was beautiful to him all the more in her work clothes than she was in her finery. For in the garments she worked in, a hint of dust, and evidence of her toils, he saw a woman much more a wife than a thing to be put on a shelf and admired. But he knew a young woman would have want to be groomed and dressed properly for dinner. "Take what time you need Nicole. I shall check on your mother, and see to dressing myself. We shall depart half passed six. Should an hour be enough time?" He looked at his pocket watch to verify the time.

Nicole nodded, "yes, by all means." She'd have to hurry if she'd any hope of transforming herself into a lady suitable for escorting to dinner. She reached up placing a delicate kiss on John Paul's cheek before turning and departing.

As she moved quickly to the door and out into the street, she was keenly aware she was light on her feet, and her previous fatigue was now replaced by something else entirely. She felt giddy, light headed and for the first time in as long as she could remember, full of hope.

She ran through the streets, up and down until finally she was climbing the stairs to their flat. She'd come to realize that perhaps when God had closed the door to her future when she was younger, having separated her from her intended, he opened a window through which even now a more promising and fulfilling future would climb in. She'd been there for her grandmother, and now for her mother. To have found someone who loved her for her sacrifices was nothing short of a miracle. She smiled and found herself humming as she put the kettle on the stove to warm water to wash in. Returning to her closet, she rummaged through her closet. She'd a dress she saved for special occasions, quite typically a church holiday. Tonight, she was more than certain, would be as special an occasion as she'd ever been to in the totality of her life.

John Paul was stretching, twisting and turning every limb. He was stiff, assuming the emotions he'd managed that afternoon had caused his muscles to constrict. He walked toward the door to the room where Nicole's mother had been resting, pushing on it, but it did not give way easily. He shoved a bit harder, only to enter finding the woman on the floor. He gasped. "Dear Lady!" his voice was anxious as he bent lifting her into his arms, carrying her over to the bed where she'd been resting. He laid her down, quickly checking her pulse. It was there, weak and steady as it had been in recent weeks. He sighed sitting on the bed next to her.

She mumbled something, smacking her lips, turning over on the bed. John Paul scratched at his head. If he'd not known better he'd say she'd fallen asleep by the door….then he smiled. Looking down at the sleeping woman, he realized, she'd been ease dropping, and had fallen asleep there. He smoothed back the hair from her forehead. Perhaps his proposal would not then come as much as a shock to her as he'd thought. He patted her shoulder, pulling the covers up over them.

He stood, moving once more toward the door. Perhaps he'd let her rest. The pair could dine alone; they'd not be gone long he was certain. And there was the cucumber soup Nicole had prepared, and they could bring the woman back a slice of the torte she so loved. The thought of having Nicole alone to himself was exhilarating. His thoughts tickled at his memory. He'd have a bit of digging to do before dinner. There was a box that he'd buried away, those things from his mother and father, his grandfather, for among them, there was a special small box he'd be looking for. He'd be needing that tonight…if he'd not misinterpreted Nicole's initial trepidations.

XXXXXXXXX

Lucien settled down with his bowl of broth, inkwell and parchment. His glass of ale sat off to the side. He truly didn't prefer ale, but something about the drink seemed to set the mood for the writing that would follow. It was the drink of the common man. Inexpensive, free-flowing, and preferred accompaniment for the foods eaten by the proletariat. He was neither of their class, nor a high-brow, and wished not to be allied with any class. That, not withstanding, he was a sympathizer and devotee of what was right. He neither chose a side, nor considered himself a fence rider, but perhaps something more of a paradox. A third party of enlightened thinking, preferring higher moral ground to safety, popularity, or allegiance. He'd learned long ago that bravery to be oneself, to stand up for what one believes to be true, was nothing more than beholding the clearest vision, danger and glory aside, going out to meet the challenge of it.

Should anyone try to discover the origins of his letters, they'd guess a million times in the negative. He was as obscure a creature as the Phantom had been. Whilst the Phantom had stirred fear and reverence with his actions, Lucien created unrest and question with words alone. For it was not his employ as a propsmaster that had been his primary passion, though he was perfectly suited, and duly trained for it. What burned beneath the skin, what no one could see with mere eyes, was what kept him up late at night, and fueled his distaste for the quagmire of humanity that walked the streets of Paris. Parasols twirling in the breeze, men in top hats and waistcoats, looking down their noses at the hoi polloi.

He knocked back a deep, long drink from the glass, letting the stray liquid run down his cheek and chin, trickling down his flesh, wiping at it with his shirt sleeve when he finished. It was not his usual manner, but it was his way…his way to commune with the spirit of the movement that was growing stronger each day in Paris. Soon it would boil, rupturing all peace and place amongst men. He dipped his pen, placing the soot black ink on the parchment.

"Such should emerge as the independent principalities, a man is a man, whether by birth right or nay, he is worth equal weight with those born into privilege. Why do we recline to our situation when all is an outrage? When born are we all not naked and helpless, relying only on the graces of those who've brought us into the world, bloodied and screaming? Thus as the cord is cut from our mother's womb, do we not all learn to suckle, breath, and exist under the same sky, partaking of the same essential elements that God gave to everyone without regard to rank or birthright?"

He sat his pen to rest as he took another long drink, satisfying a thirst of both mind and body. It would be a long night.

On the morrow he could personify the man the woman had come to know. Intelligent, and as of recent months, quite the conversationalist, and much more suitably groomed. He smiled to himself. She'd even started to slowly join him for strolls in the garden, though he knew she'd taken harsh criticism for her association with him… "the scraggly propsmaster from the dungeon…" he'd heard the words, and watched as she'd shrugged them off as if seemingly impervious to them.

Through calamity they'd come to know each other. Though he'd no hope that more would develop between them, he'd found in her a friend. One who would care if he died or lived, and that was a welcome relief from his years of near seclusion. They were bound together at first by a secret, and now by friendship.

He shook his head. His pen once more dipped in the inkwell it returned to the page. There was much to say, and finishing before the rising of the sun was an absolute requisite. Sunday was a day of rest; that was certain. However, the papers were crafted and proofread before they were published on Tuesday. If he'd any hope to have his letter included, he'd need to finish well before dawn. Delivery of such, without detection, was of the utmost importance.

XXXXXXXX

Raoul took Meg into his arms, his hands wandering to her back, drawing her closely to him. Their eyes both closed, he turned his head slightly, kissing her temple. There was a warm Southerly breeze, and the sky was glowing the most delicious amber and blood-orange. On the veritable cusp of twilight, nature provided a symphony all its own.

"My dearest Meg, I am compelled by conscience to make confession to you." He leaned away just slightly, never releasing her from his arms. "I am, at most times, a man of my word."

Meg looked at him, a bit of confusion in her glance. She'd kept so many things from him, but she'd never imagined that he'd withheld something of importance from her.

"Before you arrive at an inaccurate conclusion, indulge me but a moment to explain." He ran his hand lightly up and down her back to reassure her. "Do you recall when first we arrived at DeChagny manor?" His eyes were twinkling.

Meg nodded her head, running her hand along her cheek. How could she ever forget? She'd felt like a fish taken from the salty water of the sea, tossed into a pond of fresh water, being bid to change the very way she breathed. She'd been injured, vulnerable, and he'd not only rescued her, but extended to her every kindness. She'd been so entirely uncertain of what would come of all of it. She smiled, her eyes glancing downward before returning to meet Raoul's, "yes," she managed.

Raoul smiled copiously. "Then I should think you'd remember the small room that you, your mother and I found ourselves in?" He'd almost no need to ask. It had been a pinnacle moment in their relationship; surely she'd remembered it as vividly as he. "I made a promise that day…a promise to your mother." Raoul was looking down, his hand having disappeared into his pocket.

Meg's brow began to twitch, she'd not remembered a promise.

"Meg," he slipped both of her hands into his, "I made promise to your mother, that I think, if she were here, she'd release me from the terms of it, as my actions are in good faith."

Meg was more confused than ever. The only promise she could recall Raoul making was that he'd not ask for her hand in marriage until he'd had her mother's…….permission! Suddenly Meg's pulse began to race, her breathing grew shallow, was he suggesting…

Raoul's eyes were glowing as he saw Meg take full realization of what he was implying. He glanced around her face, taking in every inch of the wonder of it. A tender blonde curl found its way into his hand. He caressed the flaxen strands. He looked around the lawn, and into the deep purple hues that had grown on the horizon, giving way to the brilliant and blue imbued skies. He inhaled, leaning down slowly but with purpose, tenderly taking Meg's lips into his, for one tender kiss. He ran his hand up beneath her chin raising it so that she'd look directly into his eye. "Meg, I cannot keep the promise that I'd made her." He paused, taking her once more fully into his arms.

Meg watched Raoul with eyes nearly immoveable. Slowly released her, sliding his hands down her back, and carefully coming to rest on one knee in front of her. Her heart nearly stopped beating. It was the moment a young girl waited for all of her life, prepared for all of her life…and now arrived, she only prayed she'd not faint, nor ever forget each breath, each word, each gesture.

"Meg, my love, I've thought a considerable while about our circumstances. We've much in common, and much that is different, perhaps that is what makes you and I a match. All opinion of society, doubt, and fear, must be laid aside lest we travel through our days long enough and find ourselves at the end of the journey utterly alone."

Raoul repositioned himself as he dug into his pocket retrieving a small leather box. He inhaled once more; it was the single moment that he waited for. "Meg, I love you. All sycophancy aside, my heart fills with joy when you enter a room, and grieves for you when you leave it. There are many reasons that I love you, but perhaps the greatest of these is your understanding. You understand what travels my heart has taken, and know better than even I know myself of what has mattered most to me. I cannot imagine my life now without you in it each hour of the day. Soon we shall return to Paris, two very different people from those that left. I want there to be no mistake in my intentions, nor in your mind." He inhaled once more, this was the moment of truth.

"Meg Antionette Giry, I love you. To have found the one that I was meant to be paired with for a life filled with passion and compassion, is a great gift. It has long been felt between us a commitment that went far beyond words. My desire is to have you at my side, for the remainder of my days here on earth. Dear Meg, my heart would fill to overflowing if you would agree to share my life with me. To have and to hold during times of wellness and infirmity, and to love with undying devotion. Meg, would you do me the honor of being my wife?" Raoul stared deeply into Meg's eyes as she began to cry.

Meg could barely respond, at first only nodding. A gentle breeze blew in behind her, blonde strands taking flight, going this way and that. Tears were running down her cheeks.

Raoul too had begun to shed tears. Slowly, his eyes never wavering, he rose looking down into Meg's eyes with such emotion. He was entirely certain, that he'd never felt this kind of love before. He loved her as a man ought love a woman. He pushed her hair away from her cheek, looking down from her eyes, he took her hand into his, slipping in it the small box. "Open it Meg."

Meg looked up into Raoul's eyes, her heart was fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird.

Raoul placed a reassuring kiss on her cheek. Nodding at her.

Her hands were shaking, as she turned the box in her hands slowly raising the cover. Her eyes were wide with wonder. Inside the deep blue velvet held the most exquisite emerald ring, surrounded by a cluster of diamonds. "Raoul…."

"It was my mother's ring Meg." He looked into her eyes, the smile through her tears told him that she was as touched to receive it, as he had been to bestow it upon her. He took the box from Meg's hand, stowing it in his pocket. He smiled at her, taking the ring from her trembling hands. "Meg" he looked deep into her eyes, "will you agree to share my life with me, as the love of my life, without hesitation or reservation, forsaking all others, abandoning your individual life, for one joined with mine?" He blinked, staring down at her. "I love you Meg."

Meg's tears were flowing freely. "Raoul, I shall love you without hesitation or reservation, through all that lays before us, with all that lay behind us, joining with you for all that lies within us." She stared deeply into Raoul's eyes, running her hand along his cheek. "Raoul DeChagny, it would be the greatest honor I could imagine to be your wife."

They smiled at one another for a long moment before Raoul took her left hand into his right. The pair stared at their hands as Raoul slid the ring onto Meg's finger, the last shafts of light from the setting sun, and the luminous aura of the lanterns made the emerald and diamonds twinkle, but even that luminescence paled in comparison to the love that shone more brightly than a thousand moons. The pair joined hands and once more looked deeply into one another's eyes.

Raoul lifted Meg into his arms, spinning her round and round until she thought she might be dizzy before he set her once more lightly on her feet. Raoul kissed Meg tenderly on the lips at first, more earnestly as his passions for her grew, until finally he pulled away gasping. "Meg, my dear Meg," he closed his eyes exhaling slowly.

Meg's cheeks had grown crimson, and thankful for the cover of shadow. Their affections for one another were most obvious.

Raoul cleared his throat, "It is settled then my dearest, a wedding we shall be planning when back in Paris. If you'll permit my sister's assistance, she could be of some assistance to you and your mother. She rather fancies this sort of planning, and with no sister of her own…." Raoul smiled at Meg, lifting her once more into his arms spinning her about. "I love you Meg, I truly love you."

Raoul paused as the dogs began to bark. He gently put Meg back to her feet. The pair stood looking down the road that led away from Plum house. They could spy the small wobbly lantern dancing about on what could only be one thing, the carriage carrying Raoul's father. Raoul turned to Meg, "I'd have much preferred that your mother be the first to know of this, but it seems…"

Meg swallowed, she agreed with Raoul, she'd have preferred that herself. However, timing would not allow for it. Perhaps it was only fair. Her mother had been the first to know of Raoul's intentions, now his father would be the first to know of their engagement. In truth it would likely come as no surprise to the man, he'd been helping groom Meg for months in order that she might fit into the position of viscountess.

Raoul turned Meg around in his arms, holding her back against his chest as they stood looking into the darkening sky watching the carriage grow closer and closer. They could only hope that the elder DeChagny would be as pleased as they were. A decision finally made, paving the way for a future to be formed.

XXXX

Erik had risen, pulling over him his white nightshirt. The winds had begun to die, the crackling thunder, and blistering lightening had peeled across the sky as day gave way to night. Now the gentle patter of the rains danced on the greenery so filled with energy after such a storm, you could nearly hear it growing if one would listen. Erik went to the windows, drawing them closed. The breezes had brought a much soothing relief to the terrible heat that had filled the afternoon, and now the slight warmth radiating from the fire was a welcome treat to the skin. It would be a most pleasant evening, as evenings after great storms often were.

Erik turned around to look at Christine's sleeping form on the bed. He smiled. The swell in her middle was carefully tucked under the silken sheets he'd carefully coiled around her. He'd placed a small pillow under her stomach as she lay on her side; he hoped it would bring some comfort and ease to her frame. Her growing middle would usually be much smaller thus far in a pregnancy, but with three, nothing was usual about it. She'd come thus far with little sign of undue affects, save her fatigue. She was the most beautiful woman with child he'd ever seen. Then to know it was his children she bore…the beauty grew tenfold.

Erik knelt before the fireplace, nestling in a few more slivers of tinder. He'd not want a roaring fire to be certain, but he'd want the room a comfortable temperature when Christine awoke. He sighed, stretching as far as he could above him, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror above the mantel. Even after all of this time it took him off guard. He wondered if he would forever expect to see a man in a mask rather than the smooth cheeked, dark-haired man that stared back at him from the looking glass. He looked back at Christine, then glanced at the mirror again. How could one man be so blessed. A year ago this would have been more than a fantastically absurd dream. Tonight, it was reality.

He turned, he'd heard something. When he glanced at Christine his suspicions were confirmed. She was smiling at him, her arms propped above her head.

"Erik?" she said, smoothing her hand over her stomach. She glanced toward the window, shuddering slightly. "I see that the storm has passed. How long have I been sleeping?"

Erik smiled, returning to her, pulling up the blanket, sliding it over her shoulder. "Not long enough my dear." He ran his finger along her cheek. "You rested so well, I'd hoped you'd sleep through the night. It has been a long while since you've slept so soundly." Erik carefully climbed into bed, sliding beneath the covers, taking Christine into his arms. "My dear what caused you to stir?" he inquired, nestling in next to her, the cool of his skin quickly warming next to hers.

"Why your son of course." Christine said, trying to turn about in Erik's arms so that she might face him. What had formerly been a rather simple thing to do, now took a bit of maneuvering. As she came to rest in his arms, having settled her form close to his, she looked deeply into his eyes. "It seems he feels I've been remiss."

Erik laughed kissing the tip of Christine's nose. "How so my love?"

"Well, you see it is now well past the dinner hour, and the afternoon tea was hours ago. I dare say he's somewhat of an appetite." Christine's eyes grew wide. As if on cue, her stomach began to growl.

Erik laughed, scooping Christine into his arms, rubbing his hand along her back. "Then I should think we should feed him!" Erik made swift work of the bed, wrapping Christine in the covers, carrying her over to the divan in front of the fire. He went about finding his trousers. "Is there anything in particular he might request?"

Christine smoothed her hand over her stomach, the growling grew louder. "At this juncture it likely will matter little my love. It seems he might like even the leather of an old shoe just now!" She smiled, somewhat embarrassed by the protestations of her stomach.

"I'll not think of shoe leather, but perhaps something with a bit more sustenance." He pulled his suspenders over his shirt. "I will return my dear with a feast." He walked over placing a kiss on her cheek. "You rest my dear." He glanced at the window. "Enjoy the music of the rain my dear, it is heavenly tonight." He walked over, opening the window just a fraction to let the sound drift in. The crickets were chirping loudly as the rain pattered softly on the leaves. In the distance was the faint hints of thunder retreating.

Christine smiled as Erik left the room. She ran her hand over her stomach, talking to her children as she so oft did these days. "Your father has a wonderful ear…he can find the music in anything." She sat staring into the fire. It had been a pleasant evening indeed. She inhaled leaning her head back. She was for the first time, in a long while, utterly relaxed.


	205. What Lies Beneath A MidSummer's Night

Chapter 205 What Lies Beneath A Mid Summer's Night 

Dear Faithfuls:

This chapter is a rather long one, please be prepared. I'd not the heart to separate it into two as there was much that I wanted to have take place in this one evening. In part, it may be my unconscious way of trying to repay the debt I owe you for not updating as regularly as I had been. By the end of March, life should be on much more of an even keel, and I will once again be back to my regular schedule of updating and replying to your reviews. For the time being know that I am reading them, and they mean the world to me.

Thank you sincerely for your patience, and your outpouring of concern over some of the things that have been going on for me in recent weeks. You know, some of the nicest people I know belong to our Phamily, and some I don't even know their "real" names, or will ever lay eyes on them. Just the same, you've all become quite dear to me. A friend doesn't have to be physically present to be a friend. Remember it is what we feel that is most important, and that is what we take with us into the great hereafter! Again thank you, and I hope you enjoy this chapter. You may recognize bits an pieces of things that you've mentioned in your reviews littered throughout the chapter, so if you see something that tickles your memory, and you think I might have been referencing something you once said….you are most probably right!

The winter house lay quiet. Weeks had passed since a single soul had been anywhere in the vicinity, save for the occasional traveler passing by on the distant road. The figure crouched in the shadows watched and listened with a trained eye, and keen ear. Proceeding with brazen assuredness, he crept into the furthermost stretches of the property, inch by inch. His horse, with cart, remained hidden off in the woods far behind the house, lashed to a tree, but at the ready.

There were but a few precious things, the most important things, he hoped beyond hope to still find tucked away in the depths of the carriage house; beneath the trap door in the corner of the stables. He and Sebastian had dug the cellar themselves, concealing its entrance discretely inside the hay bin. During the winter it would never be noticed as the bin was always kept full. During the summer, he and Sebastian would remove the walls of the bin to reveal the outline of the door cleverly built beneath it. He could only wish that it had never been discovered.

If he could make this final retrieval, he'd be able to spare his own neck, for they were the very items his most demanding buyer had waited for. If not, he'd be on the run for the rest of his life. He'd have to cross the ocean to get away from the woman's tentacle like grasp. She'd been the most generous customer in the beginning. Now, he'd learned in spades, she was by far the most treacherous living soul he'd ever encountered, and he loathed the day he first laid eyes on her. A soul? No, he thought to himself as he prepared for the journey to the stable, belly on the ground, hands grasping at the dirt. He didn't think her to have a soul. A creature so vile certainly couldn't co-exist with something so precious as a soul inside her.

Pyotr slowly, stealthily, made his way across the ground. The lawns had not received their thrashing; the long grasses helping to conceal his movement. He knew, just like clockwork, Monsieur Courtland's staff would be there the day after the morrow making use of their sickles to groom the yard. On his belly, movement by movement, he slowly inched his way to the carriage house. He'd a small lantern, but he'd not light it until he was beneath the trap door, where all would be concealed.

He hoped so desperately that the artwork was still in good order, the coral sponges they'd placed there some months before should have protected against the collection of moisture that would have been certain to collect on such things beneath the ground. True, they'd been carefully wrapped, but the length of time had been much longer than usual. If the pictures were there, then the cache of monies that they'd stowed would be there as well. His resources nearly depleted, the funds would mean the difference of getting out of the Country comfortably alive, and having to scrounge and squabble every inch of the way.

It felt like hours to Pyotr before he arrived at the side of the carriage house. Carefully pushing open the small door reserved quite typically for small animals; making his way inside. He sighed. He'd made it thus far, seemingly without notice.

His mind wandered momentarily to Sebastian. It was a shame that the man would bear the burden for the pair of them, but that had been the agreement, should either be captured. His guilt was outweighed by his sense of self-preservation. His commitment to Sebastian included looking after what little family the man had. Somehow knowing he'd see to that softened the blow of leaving Sebastian behind to rot in the Parisian jail. But that was the plight of both. The one caught paid the price for their deeds. The one free was to take care of the loose ends of making final deliveries, and seeing to the safety of the other's family. The final thing…that would be years off. If the free man were still alive when the other was released, he was to retrieve him. He shook his head. This all remained to be seen. He'd have to secure the funds, and the artwork first. If they were gone, his fate would be far worse than Sebastian's.

Pyotr, crawled along the floor, until he came to the North-Western corner of the structure. A hay-bin had been erected over the door, in part to conceal the outline of the door, and in part to provide cover for light when they were in the cellar beneath it. There had been many obstacles to move before he finally climbed inside the bin, carefully removing the large steel spikes that held the walls in place. That done he began searching until he found the handle. He sighed deeply. So much depended on the next few minutes; it truly was the moment of truth. If he found the room empty….no…he'd not allow himself to think of the consequences now, though he may look on the pistol in his pocket with fond affection. At least he knew that death would be swift and painless.

XXXXX

Nicole plunged into the deepest recesses of her wardrobe beyond what she'd tossed in of her winter clothing. Normally the changing of the seasons had warranted a cleaning, sorting, and washing, but with the cares of her mother, and helping John Paul, had left time for little else. She pushed aside several hatboxes, several pairs of shoes so worn now they should have been discarded.

Her head cocked to the side as she pulled a small bag from the closet. Her eyes opened wide, an expression of aghast crossed her face as her hand rose to cover her mouth. It was the man's bag! She pressed her eyes closed, gasping. How could she have been so thoughtless? He'd left it at the Inn that day when her grandmother died, and somehow, in all of the tumult that followed, its very existence had slipped her mind. After the funeral, and John Paul's unbidden diagnosis of her mother, she'd tossed the bag into her closet for safekeeping.

Nicole slid to the floor in front of the closet; her legs tucked neatly beneath her. She moved the bag about under her hands. The guilt she felt would not be easily assuaged; he'd done so very much for her family. To have treated his personal belongings with such slightness, bode poorly of her gratitude. Certainly he would have missed his belongings, though she wondered if he'd even recall where they'd been left. He was in little shape himself to recall such things when he departed that day.

She turned the bag over again and over again in her lap. The contents was a mystery of sorts, and had she not already felt guilty for still having it, she might have ventured a peek inside the bag. She simply could not bring herself to add yet another trespass to her behavior already so remiss. She could tell simply the outline, without ever examining the articles, that they were a collection of books, and seemingly nothing else. She sighed. Someone as cultured as the man appeared, would be missing such things. She sighed again, this time putting the bag on the floor.

She rose, staring down at it. Monsieur Courtland and his household had moved to their summer residence not long after the incident. His house just beyond the City, now lay empty, with the exception of the visits his staff had to have made in order that the yard not look like a forest when they returned in late autumn. If only she knew their schedule.

Her eyes lit up. She recalled the shopkeeper at the mercantile saying that someone from the household checked with him each time they were in the City so as to be certain nothing had been delivered, or any posts were waiting. She smiled. On the morrow, nay, for the morrow was Sunday, Monday then, she would venture to the mercantile and inquire. She'd much prefer to deliver the bag in person, but in lieu of such apologetic recompense, she might deliver it to a member of his household instead. Tonight, after dinner, she'd fashion a note to be sent with the bag. She could only hope that she'd be forgiven for her negligence.

Nicole turned, the kettle on the stove had begun to tink. The water was hot, and the hour grew late. She'd a dinner to attend…her very first alone with John Paul since he'd come into their lives like an angel. A fleeting look of melancholy memory crossing her face; she knew his grandfather would be so very proud of him. She hurried in her preparations, dressing in her finery, dotting on perfumed oil, and a dab of powder to her cheeks. A fashion plate she was not, but she was certainly far more presentable than she'd been that afternoon.

As she drew the door to their flat closed behind her, she heard the door at the lower entry open and close. She turned, assuming to lock eyes temporarily with the woman who lived in the lower levels, but to her pleasant surprise, it was not the woman at all. There, at the bottom of the stairs, stood John Paul, a collection of the most extraordinary flowers in his hand. She froze as he rose step by step to greet her.

"These are for you Nicole, though they pale in comparison to your beauty," he reached out touching her hand, placing the flowers in it.

She looked up into his eyes. She was entirely certain that even in the dim light of the stairwell, she could see them glittering. She wondered if he knew, that after the months they'd spent together, that he could still take her breath away. She exhaled. It was times such as these that she'd have to remind herself to breathe.

XXXXX

Nadir escorted Madame Giry out of the carriage. The Starboard was overflowing. Saturday evenings were by far the busiest, and one DeChagny encouraged them to dine there as oft as they could possibly manage. Rubbing elbows with society could only do them good, as questions would most certainly come about the opera house, and as the newly appointed historian, Nadir would be the one they'd come to for information. Carefully crafted responses of course. were the order of the day, at DeChagny's behest. Not that they weren't true, for they were, it was simply his means to control the flow of inaccurate gossip, if that were possible.

The maitre' de nodded to Nadir as they arrived at the door. Their table was reserved, and would be ready for them, complete with a bottle of Beaujolais and two stemmed wine glasses. The evening had cooled slightly, but was still pleasant enough that many a Parisian stood about on the wide, opulent veranda, tibbling champagne and boasting of this accomplishment or that. Aside for the courteous nod Nadir and Madame Giry, usually reserved their conversations with others until after dinner. The later the evening grew, the more the lower ranks of society faded, until finally the serious patron's were all that remained. They were the one's that DeChagny most wanted Nadir and Madame Giry to rub elbows with, which is precisely why they never arrived for dinner before 9:00 p.m.

Nadir slid Madame Giry's chair in beneath her, as he nodded to the waiter to uncork the bottle. "Would you prefer the mascarpone and crudités, or the sampling of hard cheese with our wine?" He said as he joined her in his own chair across the table.

She watched thoughtfully as Nadir sampled the wine, nodding to the waiter to pour both of their glasses. "This evening I think the mascarpone would be wonderful. I understand that this evening there is a wonderful creamed lobster bisque," she glanced at the waiter who tried not to scowl, she'd unintentionally taken his next words quite literally from the tip of his tongue.

Nadir nodded and the waiter disappeared without a word. It was one of life's pleasures that the staff had become familiar enough with them, that often conversation was minimal as they provided just what they'd wanted without a long dissertation.

"Nadir, when you make your visit, are you searching primarily for the…" Madame Giry's conversation was interrupted abruptly by a man that had come to the table.

"Nadir, have you heard Dickens funeral has been planned for the 14th. I should very much like to see something written about him evocative of the man's life. Perhaps as the historian of the Opera Populaire, and as I understand, a rather fond devotee of his writings, perhaps you'd be able to…"

"Yes, the man's death is such unfortunate news to Paris. And I, as you so aptly stated, have a fondness for his prose, but I am quite afraid that business bids me away from Paris on the morrow and I shan't return until nearly the beginning of July." He glanced at Madame Giry with apology. They'd hoped to not speak of his departure during dinner.

"Hmmm…that is indeed troublesome." The man scratched at his beard. "I suppose there isn't a way that you could delay your journey several days so that you might be present? I should think such an event would be indeed worthy of chronicling." The man looked down thoughtfully. "I suppose business is business, and you shan't be persuaded by perhaps some artifact of significance on which you could build your display?"

Nadir looked up at the man, his interest renewed. "Let us be frank. If you've felt emboldened enough to approach the lady and I as we prepare for dinner, with such inquiries, let us cut to the heart of it. What is it that you wish for me to write, and of what do you speak as an offering of artifact?"

The man drew up a chair next to Nadir, nodding politely to Madame Giry, "Madame Giry, a pleasure to make your acquaintance." The man sat his snifter of brandy on their table. Looking over his shoulder this way and that before he began. "You see dear sir, I happen to be the surreptitious owner of not only the first complete set, but the second as well of the man's completed works." The man's eyes beamed with pride.

In an instant, it occurred to Nadir exactly who this man was. A wealthy, powerful man, who was an infrequent visitor of the Starboard, hence Nadir's inability to recognize him from the first. He owned the printing house where all of Dickens works had been published.

"Now, I've no mind to give you the first printed volumes, those are among my treasured things. But the second complete set, well," he sat back, his chest protruding like that of a proud male peacock, "the second complete set would pay due homage to the author, however scathing and telling his writings may seem now, I've no doubt they shall live on throughout the ages as a testament to the writings of our time. In order that we might be able to have our children's children recognize him, perhaps a sincere word, and a place of significance in the history of our City would allow for it."

Nadir was now scratching at his chin. Even Erik would have been tempted by an offer such as this. He needed to go to Chauesser, but….this opportunity might be far too advantageous to refuse.

"Ah yes," the man said, catching the glint of peeked interest in Nadir's eye. He nodded at the waiter who'd been waiting at the side for his cue. He came forward with a bottle of champagne and three glasses. "So have we a deal sir?" He looked Nadir squarely in the eye.

Nadir glanced at Madame Giry, then back at the man. He sighed. It would greatly delay his visit with Erik. "Let me see if I can make alternative arrangements…"

The man nodded, the champagne was uncorked and before Nadir could qualify his words, a glass was placed in his hand.

"Here's to a man who meant a great deal to this City, and to another who will help us to do justice in remembrance of him."

XXXXX

Andre sat at his desk having finished penning another letter to Misty. The last he'd written had been over a week ago, and though he'd yet to receive a reply, it did not cause him worry. Sometimes correspondence took weeks, and of course there was her work to consider. No doubt she was as busy in her duties as he so oft was with Lady C.

It just so happened that Lady C's house had settled into a rather quiet spell. During mid-summer, it was very typical. A time for much reading to be done, and relaxation for everyone was a must. There were months throughout the year when they'd little rest indeed; working until all hours of the day and night. When the warmth of mid-summer arrived, Lady C insisted they make up for it when they could. Therefore, it was oft the favorite time of year amongst the staff.

Other than her most recent inclination for Andre to look into erecting a house on a bit of land within the City, her demands on his schedule had been rather few. Carefully he cleaned the tip of the quill laying it aside, placing the dobber next, and affixed the cover on the inkwell. The letter lay before him, three pages in all, drying as he blew on them carefully.

He stretched his arms above his head, looking out the window. The storm that had threatened, produced nothing more than the few light showers late in the afternoon, and now a few bits of thunder, and lightning caused in part by the heat of the day.

Andre stood and walked over to his window, opening it a bit wider. It seemed every insect that found itself awake was joining in the sounds of a mid-summer's night. It reminded him of the last letter he'd sent Misty. He could only hope she would have by now received and read it, perhaps several times. If he closed his eyes, leaning out to take in the beauty of nature's music, he imagined her, hours away, doing the same. Though they were separated by a long distance, they still shared the same night sky. It helped him to think of that when he was missing her.

There was a gentle rap at the door, "Andre?" came a rather shy voice. "Have you retired for the evening?"

"Not at all, do come in." He went to his chair, slipping on his jacket. It was one of the women who worked in the kitchen. It was not usual for her to venture into this part of the house, so he knew it must be something of a serious nature.

The woman carefully came in closing his door just slightly. "Sir, I've come with some news. You see one of the other cooks had gone into the City to retrieve several things that we were missing for the dinner Lady C requested for the morrow. It seems a family had just returned by carriage from Paris late afternoon, carrying with them the sad news that Charles Dickens has passed on."

Andre turned to look at her, "Dickens is dead?" He glanced down at the ground, his eyes wide. He was one of Lady C's most favorite contemporaries. He spoke his mind in his stories, even broaching subjects politicians avoided. She respected his nerve. He looked up at the woman, quickly surmising why the woman had come to him. Not one of them wished to be the carrier of such news to Lady C. "Am I to assume that Lady C has yet to be informed?" He really didn't need to ask, for he knew the answer.

The woman looked down, "we thought it might be best received from someone with whom she shared her feelings more freely." She glanced up at Andre, before fixing her eyes with humility.

"And you are assuming that she speaks most freely with me do you?" Andre was a bit incensed. Lady C was a wonderful woman if only the others weren't afraid to come to know her as he had done.

The woman nodded. "So you'll tell her of Dickens passing then?" She'd need to be certain.

Andre sighed, he was already repositioning his cravat. "Out of respect for Lady C, and the man himself, I shall see that it is taken care of." He smoothed his hair slightly. "She is still awake is she not?" Andre looked over his shoulder.

"Yes, she is enjoying a bit of tea in the library." The woman bit her lip.

"What is it woman, if you know of something more, it is now that I should know of it also." Andre's ire was growing.

"It seems…it seems she's reading, with much pleasure, one of his novels at this very moment." The woman gave Andre a rather pained half-smile.

Andre looked down at the ground staring intently. "Which one?"

"Oliver Twist." The woman said somberly, suddenly fearing that Andre would perhaps decline now, just as a handful of others she'd already approached.

"Very well," he rose walking toward the door. "Here is what I must have you do. Give me ten minutes of conversation. At the end of that time, I'll cough, that shall be you cue to enter with two snifters of cognac."

The woman began to protest. "But Andre, you know she practices temperance other than wine with her dinner. She'll most likely decline…"

Andre stared at the woman until she quieted. "If I am to deliver such news in your stead, then the least you might offer is to do as I bid you." He sighed, "yes she practices temperance, but even Lady C believes in strong drink for medicinal purposes."

Andre walked toward the door. "If I were a betting man, which I am not, I'd suggest that you have the carriage master begin preparations of several of the finest carriages. I can say with a fair degree of certainty that there will be a trip to Paris for a funeral." Andre walked passed the woman and out the door.

She was quickly on his heels, turning in the corridor toward the kitchens. The cognac was kept in the cupboard by the fine china. It was seldom touched. A pair of snifters would have to be swiftly polished. Andre's request seemed only fair, considering the task that had befallen him. She'd sooner be outside feeding pigs, and she was Jewish, than to have the onerous task of telling Lady C.

Andre quietly made his way down the hallway, purposefully trying to maintain a steady yet relaxed stride such as he would on any normal evening. He spied her laughing as he came to the door of the library. A pot of tea, and a half-eaten cookie lay on the tray next to her chair. "Good evening my dear lady. What is it that you are reading that pleases you so?" He entered the room, awaiting invitation to join her.

Lady C smiled once more, sitting the book aside. "Oliver Twist young man. Though I do not prefer unruly children, I must say Oliver is so full of mischief, and trouble seems to follow him everywhere." She gave Andre a wary glance. "Does something trouble you Andre?"

Andre breathed a sigh of relief, she'd broken the barrier, now, all he'd need do, is walk in and explain.

The maid waited outside a ways down the corridor. She'd not want to be detected prematurely. The huddle of servants further still down the hall, peered out the of the parlor door, looking at the maid. She scowled at them. Their watching her every move did not make the wait less arduous. Then she heard it, the cough as he'd instructed. Slowly she made her way the remainder of the distance to the library. She kept her eye on the silver tray in her hands, preferring it over glancing at Lady C. She walked over and stood a few meters from Andre.

Andre rose, taking the two snifters from the tray. "Thank you, that will be all," he said, nodding his dismissal to the maid.

She quickly departed but not before catching a glimpse of Lady C. She was a bit ashen, and a linen handkerchief lay neatly unfolded in her lap. As she entered the hall she breathed a sigh of relief. She knew Andre had been the best suited for the task.

"Dear Lady, here take a sip of this," he said extending a snifter to her.

She looked up at Andre, and then at the glass, and the one in his other hand. She took it reluctantly. "It seems I'm not destined to drink this alone." She held the snifter between her hands in her lap, resting the pedestal on the white linen cloth.

"You do not think it too forward of me to have assumed…" Andre said, his words dropping off quietly.

She shook her head, nodding toward the chair across from her. "Do not worry, I know you've only done so out of courtesy to me. You are, my dear Andre, semper fidelis." She knew he was one of the few in her household that had studied Latin. It pleased her whenever she had opportunity to use it. She did so sparingly, lest the words lose their potency.

"Always faithful," he nodded, "indeed dear lady, I shall always be." He straightened his back just a bit looking at Lady C. "Would you care to propose a toast?"

Lady C smiled weakly, "I suppose that I should be the one to do so." She lifted her snifter from her lap. "Tonight we raise a glass in honor of a man whose literary contributions to this generation are as yet unparalleled. His work has touched many a social issue, and entertained many a young heart," she smiled, glancing at Andre, "and those young at heart. May his genius live on in his volumes, and may he never be forgotten for the man that he was, however obscure to those whom he walked among. When he is but a distant memory, and a novelty to generations yet to come, may he be an inspiration to those who have a passion for literature such as he, whether on the end of the pen or those who read the works. For he was a man who lived his life in the way he saw fit. Never succumbing to the taunting or trappings of a more ordinary life, but choosing to follow his inner urgings and share his thoughts through the written word. In his own distinct way, he has left his mark on the world, never to be forgotten." She tapped her snifter lightly against Andre's, carefully bringing her own to her lips.

Andre took a sip of the smooth liquor. It wasn't oft that he had opportunity to sip a fine cognac, nor listen to such a fine speech. With most people she was a woman of few words. With him, perhaps it was that she trusted him so, or perhaps he represented what a son might have been like to have had she ever married. Whatever it was, it was moments such as these that he was profoundly proud to be in her service.

There was a few minutes of silence as they supped from their glasses. Glancing down at the volume of 'Oliver Twist' that lay open on the table.

"It's quite a collection don't you think?" She smiled at Andre and then glanced at the bookcase that contained every volume that he ever had published.

"Yes, it is a fine collection dear lady. I suppose they shall have his works on display at his funeral." Andre glanced over at Lady C to see if she was inclined to speak of it.

Her face took on a bit of worry. "No doubt he'll have quite a funeral, he'd such a large adoring public." Her eyes were busily reading the spine of each book in her Dickens collection.

"Yes, I should think he would indeed." Andre sat his snifter down on the table. "Dear Lady, do you think you might like to attend?"

Lady C's eyes quickly shifted from the bookshelves to Andre's face. She must have had a look of horror in her eyes for he appeared to already be preparing to retract his inquiry. She glanced away, toward the door, "attend?" She felt her lips grow cold. It had been a long while since she'd left Chauesser. And Paris…she swallowed hard. She'd avoided that City all of her adult days, though no one had ever known why she'd such an aversion to it. She glanced at Andre. "I should think it would be best that I…" her voice trailed off.

Andre knew not what compelled him, though he felt inclined to urge her. "Dear Lady, you've not left this City for some years now. Travel to Paris might do much to cheer your spirits. Perhaps you could make a bit of a trip of it, visiting yourself some of the purveyors whose goods you so enjoy." Andre felt emboldened. "Paris would be at its peak this time of year, all array of flowers in bloom in the royal gardens…" He quieted. Clearly the suggestion had evoked some thought in Lady C.

Her heart was aflutter. She closed her eyes. Paris…he was likely dead now, married, moved away, and certainly, after the decades had passed, he'd not recognize her even if their paths crossed.

"Andre, this will take a bit of thought. I agree that it would be an honorable thing to attend a funeral for such a man…but I do not know if I am amenable to a trip to Paris, but I shall take it into consideration."

She glanced at him not really knowing why she'd not flatly refused from first mention of it. The last she'd been intrigued to go to Paris had been 1862, some eight years before. She'd let her fears stop her then. She inhaled, perhaps it was time to let the past be finally laid to rest. In truth she'd longed to see the beauty of the City he'd so intricately described to her, though it would be certain that many things would have changed. She smiled at Andre.

"Let me have the night to think on it won't you?" She patted him on the knee. "I shall inform you of my decision at breakfast."

She rose, walking toward the door, snifter in hand, 'Oliver Twist' under her arm. "Perhaps I shall take this with me to my bedchambers," she said as she turned to look back at Andre. "Thank you Andre, you are most thoughtful and kind. Everyone should be as fortunate to have someone whom they can trust." She nodded, "good evening Andre."

Andre smiled at her compassionately, "and you dear lady." He watched as she left the room, turning in the corridor toward her bedchamber. She was indeed an extraordinary woman. He was exceedingly pleased she'd not declined off hand. Though he wasn't entirely hopeful that she'd agree, she'd at least consider it, which was more than she would have done the year before. Perhaps it was the death of Victoria, the newest citizens of Chauesser, the man's heroic efforts…whatever it was, he'd sensed a change in her. A flicker of flame he nearly thought had burned just enough to keep her soul from passing from this world into the next.

The maid scampered into the room, a bewildered look on her face. "Andre?"

Andre knew in an instant her confusion. Lady C never retired unannounced, nor without her evening ritual at the piano and window. The absence of such activities had nearly upset the equilibrium in the entire house. They'd all been waiting on pins and needles to hear of her reaction. Her affections for Dickens work was certainly no secret, nor was the fact she'd eagerly awaited the next volume he was said to have been just completing. It seemed she'd taken her sorrows, disappointment, and snifter of cognac to bed with her.

"Lady C has retired of her own volition. We are not to question the behavior of our employer are we?" He looked at her somewhat sternly.

She looked down from his gaze, "no of course not. Its simply that I'd have readied her bed if I'd thought she'd retire so early."

"Wait for twenty minutes or so, then go to her door and knock. Simply politely offer to turn down her bed. If she is so inclined she will permit you entrance. If not, you will at least have been dutiful in offering, and your conscience will be put at ease." Andre said, sipping the last of his cognac, placing the empty vessel on the silver tray the maid had in her hand. "Do not worry, I do not think she will find you remiss in your duties when it was she who deviated from the normal routine."

He walked down the hall toward the rear of the house. He'd go out and speak to the carriage master himself. He'd have the carriages discretely made ready lest she decide they'd not make the journey. But something in his gut told him, they might very well indeed find themselves in Paris in a few days time.

The maid watched him walk away shaking her head. He was most certainly respected, and the younger maids swooned whenever he was in the room. To her, he seemed a bit impertinent. She wondered if he ever remembered that he was part of her staff, not her family. Though he treated them all with respect, there was an air about the way he conducted himself that set her off just slightly. Then again, perhaps it was her own envy of the relationship he had with Lady C that colored her thoughts. No one else in the entire household was as close to Lady C as Andre, and try thought they might, they never seemed to be able to break through the imaginary wall that surrounded her.

She smiled as she retreated to the kitchen with the tray. She supposed she should be happy for her. At least there was someone with whom she was able to converse freely. And Andre's mother having died some years before…perhaps it was a match made. She'd no son, he'd no mother, and both had found in one another a surrogate for what they lacked.

Once inside her bedchamber, Lady C closed the door, going directly over to the small box she kept locked beneath her bed. The key was affixed to a small chain she kept with her at all times. No, there was nothing of value to anyone other than she inside that box, it was her treasure alone. She placed the box on her bed and was about to unlock it when she thought better of it. She returned to the door turning the lock. Now she felt secure retrieving one of the things that she held most dear in all of her valuables.

The key easily opened the lock. Lifting the cover she peered inside; the contents made her smile, and then frown. It contained both happiness and sorrow. She lifted a yellowed piece of paper from the box, carefully untwining it, and rolling the paper open to stare at the pencil sketching. It was a sketch of two young lovers, limbs intertwined as if at play.

She closed her eyes; she could remember the afternoon in Chauesser at the street market. They had wandered the park sampling of sweet things and the like when they'd happened upon a young artist doing sketches. Before they'd thought about it he'd put a silver piece in the cup and they were sitting, somewhat restlessly on a pair of stools in front of the man who bid them stay still. The afternoon had been hot, much like that very afternoon had been.

She opened her eyes simply staring at the picture until a tear grew on her cheek. If only her father had not been so unfair, her life would have been so very different. She swallowed hard, fighting a wave of tears that threatened her. She shook her head, rolling and reaffixing the twine. She returned the scroll to the box, nestling it into place. She reached for the lid, but hesitated, nearly closing the cover several times until she pushed it fully open once more.

Inhaling and exhaling slowly, she dipped her hand into the box, bringing out a much folded stained garment. Her lips began to tremble. She rubbed it against her cheek. It was the only connection she had with the baby; the bloodied garment from his birth. The one thing she'd retrieved to keep lest she'd forget years later, telling herself it had been nothing more than an elaborate hallucination. It was the only link she had to a life she might have known…a child she might have loved. She held it close to her face, imagining what he might have looked like. A tear ran down her cheek.

She sighed, her eyes still closed she returned the garment to the box, slipping the key in to lock it. She opened her eyes, running her index finger under each eye as she returned the box to its home beneath the bed. She lifted the snifter, tipping it slightly, taking a long sip. Perhaps it was indeed time. She'd ought to know of the City her lover, her friend, her confidant, had so meticulously described for her. One day she would grow too old to make such travels, and would be full of bitter regret. He had loved Paris, just as she had grown to love Chauesser.

She went about undressing herself, a pitcher of water already there she quickly washed and donned her nightdress. She turned down the covers and climbed into bed, reaching over to turn up the lamp just slightly. 'Oliver Twist' once more in hand, she'd decided to read until she was sufficiently tired to rest.

The evening had been a break in all of her normal routines. It was likely to be the first of many changes. On the morrow, she'd inform Andre, that they would indeed be heading to Paris for Dickens funeral, and perhaps an extended visit if it could be arranged. A small smile crossed her face as she removed the bookmark, turning once more to where she'd left the story. "Ah yes," she said in a satisfied tone. She could think of no better way to pay homage to the man than to read one of his finest tales while sipping the remainder of her cognac.

XXXXX

The undertaker had cleaned his last instruments as he readied to turn his business over to the young man who'd been apprenticing with him. True he was not fully completed, but nearly enough so he felt confident in leaving the work in his hands for a time. He'd be only hours away if he were needed to return. He planned to spend some of his time in Paris, even though his primary responsibility would be in Chauesser finishing the apprenticeship of the young undertaker there who was come into a business not fully completed with his own education.

He would miss much about the larger City, but looked forward to the relaxed pace a hamlet had to offer. He'd visited his own father there but once, and that had not ended well. He'd traveled to Chauesser to speak to his father about the funds he'd offered his own son for his education. Perdue had always hoped his son would follow in his footsteps, taking over the family business in time, but grandfather had prevailed, and the young John Paul had gone off to medical school, eschewing his own father's wishes. In the end he'd come to terms with it. His son would no doubt have a much happier life as a physician. The life of an undertaker was lonely…he was seldom invited for Sunday dinners.

Perdue sighed. He now looked forward to being able to spend time with his son. His grandfather had bequeathed his estate to his grandson, with his own son's blessing. Perdue had made quite a tidy sum in his own right, and had no need for that of his father's. What would have been his temporarily at his father's passing, would have found its way to his son regardless. At least in this way he'd be able to see his son enjoy it. He'd be on his way the day after next. A brief hiatus from his own work, and a rather enjoyable one at that.

He walked into the outer room, staring down at the last body he'd prepared. How very strange it seemed. The last flesh he touched before leaving Paris was that of the famous author. He'd not himself been much of a fan, but he knew of the man's significance, and had treated him with all the respect that he could. The funeral would be filled with the crowds he so loved to avoid.

He scratched his chin. He'd picked a rather fortuitous time to take the Lady's most generous offer. It would be a welcome change, with many benefits that had nothing at all to do with money.

He looked down, touching the man's cheek. The makeup was dry enough now to place the sheet over him. It was both a joy and a pity that one could not take their bodies into the hereafter he thought. In death you at once could leave behind everything that troubled you, but you'd suddenly lost all form of external identity. Perhaps the knew heavenly body one was given some characteristics of the one you had during your time on the face of the earth, and then again, perhaps not. Possibly one was finally able to be seen for who and what they were all along. For he knew what made a man or a woman, truly made them who they were, had nothing to do with the shell of flesh they walked around in.

Making an about face, he turned down the lamp to a nearly imperceptible glow. The first night he never left the body in utter darkness. It had been a habit he wasn't entirely sure where he'd started, but had never been able to break himself of. He shook his head, whatever it was, it was his custom, and he'd not be changing that now.

XXXXX

Raoul held Meg in his arms, watching as the carriage came into the yard. The carriage master went out to greet it, assisting his father down from steps. Raoul squeezed Meg's hand all the more.

Meg wanted to hide until it was over. Though DeChagny would not be entirely surprised by the news, there was something decidedly different about having that ring, Raoul's mother's ring, on her finger.

DeChagny was walking towards them, a curious look on his face. Raoul held Meg's hand fast in his.

Raoul began, we've waited dinner for you," he glanced at Meg, "and father, Meg and I have something of the utmost importance to tell you."

XXXXX

Misty had kept a bit of the roasted meats warm in a thin gravy on the stove. Had Erik not appeared, it would have become food for the dogs in the morning, along with their usual table scraps. She'd thought about changing into her nightclothes, but then thought better of it when she heard footsteps on the floor above. She wanted to be ready should her services be required.

Erik was beaming when he came into the kitchen. "Good evening Misty. I trust the household did not wait for us for dinner."

Misty nodded, "no monsieur, everyone has been well fed." She went about retrieving a tray and several plates for him. She knew instinctively what he sought.

As Erik dished the meats onto the plates, he said, "I meant to thank you for you help this afternoon. Your timing was impeccable. Elizabeth was exceedingly pleased to spend the afternoon there." He carefully lifted the lid on the second pot. It had several boiled red potatoes, with the skin still intact. He smiled, Misty had anticipated their late supper and had rolled them in olive oil to keep them tender and moist. He put several on each plate.

Misty was pleased to have been of assistance in making Elizabeth's afternoon pleasant. She'd watched as Elizabeth's tiny frame took on the characteristics of a mother to be, and felt for her discomforts. "You are most welcome Monsieur, I'll gladly do whatever you ask of me to provide Elizabeth some relief." She could scarcely imagine what it was like to carry one child, let alone three! She'd gone about slicing several pieces of bread.

Erik took a pitcher of water, putting it on the tray. He smiled at Misty.

She'd long since given up offering to take the tray to his bedchamber for him. Whenever they'd take a late dinner in their room, he'd be the one serving Elizabeth. It was rather endearing Misty thought. A man of his wealth need not do such things, but he seemed to take great pleasure in it.

He perused the tray, thinking of anything else Christine might like. "Do tell, did the carriage master make any mention of everything being in order for his departure to Chauesser to retrieve Nadir?"

"Misty nodded, yes, he'd wanted me to tell you all has been prepared to your precise instruction. He will leave promptly at seven."

"Very good." Erik said smiling and nodding, "I bid you goodnight Misty." He turned to leave the kitchen, "oh," he turned around.

Misty knew what he wanted; two chocolate drops from the box in the cupboard. They were Elizabeth's favorite. She walked over putting the small plate with the candies on the tray. She rather hoped Nadir would be bringing some with him from Paris, for it wouldn't be long and the lot of them would be depleted.

"Thank you," Erik nodded and departed.

Misty sighed, she could now retire herself. She'd a letter to write. She'd finish it so that it might be mailed off from Chausesser when the carriage driver went to retrieve Nadir. She smiled thinking to herself that perhaps she'd re-read Andre's letter first…it did such wonderful things to warm her heart. She scampered off happily to her room, as if a child going off to play with one of her many treasures.

Erik pushed the door open with his foot, smiling as he entered. Christine was standing near the window drinking in the fresh night air that always followed a summer storm.

She glanced over her shoulder, her long black tendrils flowing down the length of her exposed back. Her eyes were twinkling. "Erik, the air is, it is…I don't know, it is something like imbibing dew that clings to the leaves in the morning. And," she paused, a childish grin crossing her face as she glanced back at him, "shh…." she smiled as he took her into his arms, resting his chin by her temple. "If you listen Erik, you can hear the ocean."

Erik leaned forward, pushing the window open a bit wider, kissing Christine's cheek. "I believe you are right." He inhaled deeply. The air was so fresh. A hint of coolness froma gentle wafting breeze made him shiver.

Christine laughed, "are you cold my love?" She turned in his arms, rubbing her hands on his chest, nestling her cheek on his flesh. "I am warm enough for the both of us." She peered around Erik's shoulder and smiled. "And what have you brought for us?"

Erik smiled, kissing Christine's forehead. "Come and I'll show you. He turned to close the window, and then back again to watch as Christine walked to the divan. From that angle, in the glow of the fire, she looked like a painting he'd once seen of a fairy. An angelic like creature with deep blue colored wings, dark flowing hair draped over ivory skin. It had been one of the most elaborate and beautiful paintings he'd ever laid eyes on. He smiled. Christine was indeed as beautiful as an angel, as playful as a water sprite, but one he could love, and hold for his very own in his wanton arms.

She looked over her shoulder catching the glint in Erik's eye. "My dear husband, dinner must come first, lest your son venture out and start searching for something to eat on his own!" She sat down on the divan, attempting to pull the silken sheets around.

Erik joined her, carefully placing a white napkin across her lap. She looked into his eyes, the glance that told him that she belonged to him, and only him, and it warmed him through and through.

She leaned forward, kissing his neck, "I love you Erik." She smiled, and then bowed her head to pray.

Erik closed his eyes too. He was thankful, not only for the meal before them, but thankful every day, that God had entrusted him with her, and the lives growing in her womb. His prayers were never hollow or without meaning; he was sincerely thankful.

Erik watched as Christine took her first bite, and her second and her third.

She smiled at him, her eyes suddenly growing wide, her back arching slightly.

Erik looked at her with concern, "what is it Christine?" He reached out his hand towards her.

She glanced down at her middle.

Erik gently slid the sheet away from her flesh, looking at her stomach. He watched with wide wondering eyes as Christine's stomach moved this way and that, a tangle of what he assumed were arms and legs pushing out against her skin. He looked up at Christine and though she smiled, he could tell she was uncomfortable. His eyes traveled again to her middle, and without another thought he gently began to run his hand over her stomach. Then he began to hum. It was a lullaby she'd heard as a child, though its origin escaped her. Slowly the movement came to a halt, and Erik pulled the sheet once more over her, tucking it neatly beneath her arms.

Christine looked at him with such marvel. His music had always mesmerized her, enchanted her, enthralled her. Now his voice would have the same soothing affect on their children. She smiled, a grateful smile, saying nary a word, but running her hand over his cheek, her finger grazing his lips. She mouthed the words "thank you." She glanced once more at the plate of food on the tray.

Erik smiled, lifting the plate, bringing it to her. All manners and rules of etiquette were set aside in the name of being practical. If she were to eat, she'd have to do so when the children were sleeping. No doubt this was practice for what life would be like once the children made their way to outside of the womb. Forkful by forkful, Erik fed Christine her dinner, until she'd had all she could. He lifted her glass of water for her. Christine took a long drink. She sighed, and he knew she was content.

As he nestled in next to her on the divan, he nuzzled her neck. "You are the most beautiful creature I've ever laid eyes on my love."

Christine smiled, kissing the tip of Erik's nose. She'd wanted to embrace him, but she feared to move, lest the children awake.

Erik smiled at her; he knew exactly what she needed. Carefully he slid his arms beneath her, and carried her to the bed, tucking her in. They rolled about just a bit, but it took only several minutes of their father's soothing voice and they were once again sound asleep. And so was Christine.


	206. Love Is In The Air

Chapter 206 Love Is In The Air 

Dear faithfuls:

Yet another long chapter. I shall update, God willing, on Friday of this week. I do so look forward to the first part of April, when life should return to some sort of normal. Again, thank you for sticking with me! As crazy and uncertain as my life has been as of late, it pales in comparison to the wild ride our beloved family of characters has been on, and it doesn't look like it is going to get any less complicated!

XXX

Nicole and John Paul arrived at the tavern. It was bustling from the very outer edge of the courtyard. She smiled at him politely; a quiet dinner was likely not to be had. She was all but certain that their efforts were for naught; so many others having arrived before them. Then, through the crowds, Nicole could see an arm waiving, and recognized it immediately; it was her employer bidding them enter.

"Your table is ready doctor!" The man said, smiling as the swarm of people filling the courtyard parted, making way for the pair. "Come, come," he said, looking over John Paul's shoulder, and then at Nicole. "Where is your mother my dear?" A look of concern coming over him, "she is feeling well no?"

Nicole nodded, "yes, although a bit tired. I'm afraid the warmth of the day has been grueling for her," she replied, blushing from the feel of John Paul's hand on the small of her back as they were escorted to a small table near the fireplace.

The innkeeper nodded to John Paul, "we've been rather busy this evening, but please, do take your time. It will not be long and those that remain will be huddled near the flow of liquor; the dining room will grow quiet. I've no need for you to rush your dinner."

He glanced over his shoulder. A rather loud discussion was developing between a rather inebriated patron and one of those in his employ. He smiled politely, "please excuse me, do enjoy your dinner." He smiled at Nicole. "I will fix you a little something to take to your mother, hmm?" Then he departed.

Nicole smiled at her friend Kathryn who'd come to fill their water glasses. She had a different look about her than before, though Nicole couldn't quite put her finger on it. For an instant she wished she could huddle with her behind the doors just inside the pantry, speaking as they did when they were both working there day and night. They'd shared so many moments of laughter together. It had been a great long while since she'd chatted with another girl her age, and suddenly she realized how she missed those days. Though they'd not been without care and serious toil, there had been something pleasantly constant, methodical even in their rhythm.

Kathryn filled each of their glasses, pausing to look at Nicole. "It is so very nice to see you Nicole, do pay us a visit if you are able." She smiled at Nicole, nodding at the doctor as she went on to the next table to refill glasses that had been emptied.

Nicole smiled, carefully placing the napkin on her lap, glancing at the young woman as she flitted through the dining room, tending to every whim and beckoning of the sea of patrons. It had not been long before that she herself had done the same, six of the seven nights of every week. Now, she'd work a few hours each morning whilst her mother rested, and John Paul visited his patients.

Clearly their income had suffered proportionately, but they'd managed. Each month a sum of francs were mysteriously deposited on account in her name. At first she'd thought it to be a mistake. The banker had assured her, after careful research, the contributions had been made legitimately. However, with the stern stipulation that she never knew who had made them. In the first her pride had made her wish to refuse, but the banker and the doctor, in whom she'd confided, convinced her that to refuse such a gift would be to insult and injure the very spirit of generosity with which the offering had been bestowed upon her family. What had surprised her nearly as much as this most sincere outpouring of empathy, was with what precision the benefactor had calculated how much she had typically earned.

This entire state of affairs had taxed her mind until the note had arrived at her door one morning. It was written in careful verse, indicating that the sum would continue to appear until a month after her mother's passing and that she was to not worry for whom or where it came. The only proviso was that she not share such information with others, rather she was to keep it to herself. She was to continue to live her life as she had, not worrying for what the contributor might think should they see her with a new garment, or she and her mother taking a meal at the tavern. Their singular wish, and her return of gratitude would be shown in her ability to continue to live whilst she did the most noble thing of caring for her mother, as she had her grandmother before her. After coming to terms with accepting such charity, Nicole cried herself to sleep that night. Now, every time she found herself in public, she would glance into the eyes of those she passed, and found herself wondering…was it you? Might it be she? The only thing the banker had assured her was that it had not been, as she was likely to assume, Lady C.

John Paul stared with curious eyes at Nicole, watching her expressions change from the deep thought she was swimming in. She'd become what most would consider distracted these days. He knew in his heart that she was not distracted, but merely intently reflective. It would be those moments she'd wandered in thought, providing her with strength and comfort in the hours of grief that yet lay in the days to come. He'd never once mentioned her occasional departure into her mind, but waited patiently for her to return to the conversation of her own volition.

Nicole blinked her eyes, shaking her head just slightly, looking over at John Paul. He was carefully studying the menu. She lifted hers in hand, pretending to have been studying it too. She knew it by heart, though she feigned indecision. It was June, the most delectable item on the menu would be the either the sea bass, or the asparagus and chicken unusually paired with a béchamel sauce, followed by the berry trifle, or lemon sorbet. Nicole smiled over her menu catching John Paul's eye.

"Nicole, what might you be dining on this evening?" He returned her smile as he lifted his glass of wine to his lips, savoring the taste of the fermented fruits as he rolled the perfectly bodied liquid over his tongue.

"Hmmm…the sea bass is one of my favorite dishes. The lemon and fresh crushed herbs with drawn butter, make it simply heaven." She smiled once more as Kathryn delivered a basket of fresh bread and potted butter to their table. Her hand brushing Nicole's shoulder just slightly as she left the table. Nicole smiled again, it had been their way to indicate she'd something to tell her.

Nicole glanced down as Kathryn's hand left her shoulder, and there she spied, what now she knew was the difference in Kathryn, a ring sparkled on her finger as it slid from her shoulder. Kathryn smiled at her and went about her work at the table next. Nicole wanted to jump to her feet and drag the poor girl to the pantry, demanding to know every detail. But alas, the tavern was full, and she herself was no less occupied. She felt rather guilty for having been so distracted seemingly since they arrived. She'd not been a very pleasant dinner companion.

John Paul saw the look in Nicole's eye. He'd known of Kathryn's most recent engagement, but he'd not the heart to tell Nicole, for this was news one must receive directly from one's friend. He knew it would be hours before Kathryn would be free to converse at any length, but it had been, in part, the precise reason he'd wanted to bring Nicole there that night. It had only been that afternoon that his intension had changed, wanting far more from the evening than when the day first began.

In the next few minutes they'd ordered their dinner, and now their salad lay before them. After saying a prayer, John Paul carefully including a word for her mother, they'd lifted their forks and begun eating.

"It is refreshing is it not?" John Paul said as he lifted another fork of greens and citrus vinegar.

Nicole took a sip from her wine, having herself consumed nearly half of her salad already, "it is a wonder how inspired the chef is during the summer months when nearly everything fresh is available to him." She'd tried to concentrate more fully on John Paul, but she'd found herself wondering who Kathryn's betrothed might be. She'd not had a suitor when last Nicole had spoken to her, so whomever it was, she was certain she shan't know him.

John Paul finished his salad, laying the fork with the tines down on the plate. He'd been carefully studying the tables around him. Soon, they'd be delivered their meals, and there would be a very small window of opportunity where he might unfold part of his plan. He looked over at Nicole, her salad now all but abandoned. He smiled just slightly, "Nicole, would you mind at all if I excused myself for a moment or two?"

Nicole looked up at him, laying her fork down on her plate. "Is something wrong?" She said apologetically biting her lip. She knew she'd not been very attentive, and hoped that he'd not felt slighted.

"Everything is fine my dear. I've just seen a husband of a patient of mine come in the back door. If I might have a word with him now, I could perhaps avert having to make a visit before I retire this evening. I believe she is doing well, but I'd rest much easier if I were certain." It was not a lie, not even slightly. The woman to whom he referred had gashed herself in her garden the day before, and he'd carefully cleaned and mended the wound. If her husband was out for his typical Saturday evening ale, then he knew the woman was feeling better.

Nicole shook her head, "why most certainly John Paul," smiling at him politely.

John Paul rose, laying his napkin on his chair. He touched Nicole's hand. "I shan't be long," he said reassuringly.

Nicole watched as he walked toward the other room, disappearing into the crowd. She sighed. She'd eaten what she could of her salad, and her favorite part, the dressing and the candied nuts, had been plucked carefully from the remaining greens, leaving little interest for her on the plate.

Suddenly, the innkeeper appeared with Kathryn. "Nicole, I hope that you do not mind. Kathryn was resting in the pantry until the next course is ready for delivery. I saw that the doctor had departed, and thought you might like some momentary company." He smiled at Nicole, glancing at Kathryn. He knew they'd but a few moments, but they were necessary for the pair.

As he walked away from the table, he nodded to the doctor who was peering around the wall. It had been done as he requested. Both men cared for Nicole, one as if she were a daughter, the other….as if she were a wife.

Nicole's eyes immediately grew tears, Kathryn putting her hands into Nicole's that she might see the ring. Both girls laughing trying to speak at once.

"Oh do tell Kathryn, how very wonderful for you!" she squeezed her hands tightly, lifting her hand to inspect the ring. "It is so beautiful," she cooed.

"Oh Nicole, I am drifting in the clouds as if on the astral wings of fairies carried up into the starry expanse of heaven!" Kathryn said, smiling so widely she could barely contain herself. "I know we've but a few minutes, so let me be brief."

Nicole squirmed about in her chair, genuinely happy for Kathryn, wanting to know each detail, but with mournful knowledge that their time was short.

"Nicole, he is someone from a city I once lived in when I was younger. My father you see, has kept in touch with his family over the years, and the occasional summer visit and a handful of letters here and there, produced an interest that we'd long shared as children. It seems he told his father that he'd never been able to forget me." She smiled, "and you know fathers! His father mentioned it to my father, and soon they'd visited several times in one month, and I myself paid a visit with my mother to his family." Her eyes were glowing.

"It was on the visit of the week last, nearing its end that my father appeared, quite early I might add, to retrieve us. My heart grieved, thinking we'd be leaving a day sooner than expected. I knew then that I'd become smitten with the young man, as why would one grieve for the absence of a friend in this way?"

Nicole nodded, squeezing Kathryn's hands all the more, hoping that she'd not be beckoned away from the table, or John Paul's return interrupt her story.

"It all seemed as if my father had come so that the families might visit and join in an evening of games. Then curiously I saw several more carriages arrive, more of his family. I thought it rather bold that they'd simply invited themselves to dinner, Charles insisted he'd not known they were coming." She smiled impishly.

Nicole smiled too, "Charles? Is he the handsome one you spoke of from your childhood, the one who freed your kitten from the tree when you were a girl?"

Kathryn was nodding, "yes, it is he." She blushed, her eyes scanning the dining room. They'd not have much longer. "Charles noticed my concern and wandered off with me into the gardens behind his house, assuring me we could have a private evening if we preferred not to join the others." She smiled again.

"Soon we found ourselves wandering down by a small creek at the edge of their property." She glanced up at Nicole, "I think he could be something of an actor, as when we happened upon a picnic basket, he pretended we'd stumbled upon it abandoned. He retrieved a bottle of wine from it, and it wasn't long and we found ourselves dipping our toes in the water, sipping from the glasses he'd found in the basket as well."

Kathryn laughed, "I really was so entirely naïve Nicole! As the sun began to set, he pulled a small box from his pocket." Kathryn began to wiggle. "You see he'd spent a long while speaking of what it was that he wanted from life. It was with absolute cleverness, and a smooth tongue that he elicited from me, what dreams I had of the future. Before I could fully take in the fullness of what was transpiring before me, he was down on one knee asking for my hand in marriage. Without a moment's hesitation, I blurted my reply, and we spent the next blissful hour alone in an embrace at the water's edge. It was then that he made confession that it had all been planned, and that I was not to worry, the fathers had received proper inquiry, acting in part as matchmakers themselves!" Kathryn had become rather animated, her face alight with the glow from the newness of a kindled love.

Kathryn wriggled about, sighing, and smiling. "When we'd returned to the house, arm in arm, we found quite a collection of relatives from both families arrived, a rather elaborate dinner had been prepared. As I sat at the head of the table with Charles that night, I listened as my father and his gave joyful toasts. It was two families, long joined in friendship, now joined forever more by a marriage." Kathryn looked into Nicole's eyes, "I've never been so joyful!"

Nicole rose, all polite manners aside, she embraced Kathryn. "I am exceedingly happy for you!" The pair stood their shedding tears of joy for a brief moment before returning to their chairs.

"So what is to become of you? Will you join him there, or might he be considering joining you here? When are you to marry?"

Kathryn laughed, retrieving a handkerchief from her pocket. "It is all yet to be decided. But the wedding is set for early September." A more serious look crept onto Kathryn's face. "I shan't want for you to miss it Nicole, do say that you will come if you are able."

Nicole smiled at her, smoothing her hand over Kathryn's, "you have my word." She looked up as the innkeeper was making his way back to the table, and closely behind him was John Paul. "It seems our time has come to a close dearest," she said watching as the men grew closer. "I shall try to visit with you in the next week or so if I might find time to steal away. I should very much love to hear every detail!"

Kathryn rose as the innkeeper came to the table, "take care Nicole, I shall look forward to a visit from you."

"And you my dear, and you." She said as they parted hands.

Nicole scampered around collecting salad plates from the guests as the dinners were coming out on large trays. She watched as Kathryn began the task of delivering the meals. Turning to John Paul as he sat in the chair she said, "isn't it wonderful news?" she smiled as Kathryn flitted by, gathering their salad plates.

"News?" John Paul pretended, for Nicole's sake, not to know of such things.

Nicole looked at him rather curiously, "you've not heard? Kathryn is engaged to be married at summer's end!" Nicole said most triumphantly.

"I see, that is what caused the two of you to smile so profusely!" he chuckled slightly, looking down into Nicole's eyes, a certain box nearly burning a hole in his own pocket.

Dinner was delivered, and consumed with quite pleasant conversation. They'd laughed and smiled for nearly an hour, all care of Nicole's present circumstances forgotten. As the dishes of trifle were sat before them, a press of hot coffee at their side, the room had grown precipitously quiet. The innkeeper had been correct in his suppositions. The crowd that lingered, did so primarily near the liquor, thus finally making audible, the music of the single violinist that wandered around hopelessly unable to overcome the din until now.

"What lovely music, the violin." Nicole said watching as the man made his way passed the few couples that remained over their dessert and coffee.

"Yes it is. I understand that this man once studied under Gustav Daae before his untimely passing." John Paul said joining Nicole in watching the man.

"Gustav Daae? The famous Swedish violinist?" Nicole said, her gaze now returning to John Paul.

"Why yes, one in the same. My grandfather oft spoke of the several times he'd opportunity to listen to the man play." John Paul said, suddenly worried his comment would lead to another long conversation….he'd something else on his mind.

Nicole cocked her head, "was it not his own daughter who went missing from the Opera House in Paris, kidnapped by some monster just before her engagement to another was to be announced?"

"I do believe what you say is most true Nicole, the name certainly fits, and grandfather spoke of a young girl who was orphaned when Gustav passed on."

"How very sad. Just when her life was to begin, a chance at happiness, to have been stolen from it, having it ripped from her hands before she even had chance to experience it…the poor man to whom she was betrothed…he must have suffered so."

John Paul looked down, a smile growing on his face. Perhaps the conversation's leadings had not been wasted breath. Indeed, nothing better could have prepared the way for his next words. Life was too short, too unpredictable to leave important things undone.

"Nicole, it is, as you've said, unfortunate indeed. You know well yourself how life can turn and twist in ways that we could never have imagined, removing from our reaches possibilities at happiness." He glanced down, sliding his hand into his pocket.

Nicole looked at him, her eyes suddenly serious and lamenting. He could so easily cut through the mire that surrounded her heart and the thoughts that clouded her mind, with the precision of a surgeon's knife. "It is true, just several months ago I lived in a happy oblivion. Denying what unknown losses were to lay ahead. Now, with my mother ill…." Her voice broke, she could not continue, though she'd force herself not to cry.

John Paul fumbled with the box in one hand before he felt the shank of the ring between his forefinger and thumb. There was no moment quite like the present. The fire was glowing at their side, beautiful music playing on the violin, and her heart open and vulnerable. He looked into her eyes as he took her left hand into his. He exhaled slowly.

"Nicole, I have never been a man of considerable eloquence, nor a man for whom subtle nuances employed, successfully conveyed my true intentions. As such, I must be honest with you."

Nicole's face scowled a bit, whatever did he mean?

"You see Nicole, in these last months I've come to understand what it is my grandfather loved about this City. It is a feeling, an indescribable feeling one gets from simply being here. It is not like the cold callous cosmopolitan cities of which I thought myself so fond. It is warm, comfortable, a perfect place for one to settle and raise a family." He swallowed again, the ring nearly slipping from his fingers as the sweat on his hands grew.

Nicole's heart began to beat harder. This had been the very line of conversation she'd interrupted that afternoon! She simply nodded her head in breathless agreement.

"Nicole, I've not known another like you, in all of my days, quite like you. I've watched as you've buried a grandmother, nursed a mother, and worked as hard as any man setting in order not only your own household, but mine as well. Though you are beautiful and feminine, you are not dainty and frail. You've not known a pampered life."

Nicole looked down, she knew she would not have been considered refined by any standards, and certainly not suitable for a gentleman's wife.

"Nicole it is that quality that I find more pleasing than any other. You are a woman of great will, and great strength." He hesitated, for but a moment, "you are, exactly the woman I imagined that I would one day marry." He glanced into her eyes. In them he saw both terror and happiness. But what he saw most, that gave him final reassurance, was his own reflection, as if he'd already been emblazoned in her soul.

"John Paul, I am not a woman of refinement, I shan't fit into Parisian society, I shan't…"

His hand rose, covering her lips lightly with his finger. "Nicole, whoever said I'd intentions of returning to Paris?"

"But John Paul, your family, your friends…." Nicole said in a near whisper.

"A body must stay where its heart is…." He looked into her eyes as he lifted her chin with his finger, "and my heart is here…with you."

Nicole began to cry. Not a simple tear, but a quiet sob followed by a torrent of long repressed tears.

John Paul rose, embracing her, leading her head to his shoulder, soothing her. "Shhh…shhhh. It will be alright….my love."

The innkeeper peered out of the portal in the door leading to the kitchen. He bid all his employees stay away from that place for a time.

"Nicole, we've both lived on the cusp of a life we were already beginning to live. Outside of visiting my patients, and your work here several morning each week, we spend more time together than most husbands and wives. Save for the fact that when we retire at night we do not share the same bed, we are living as a family, your mother, you, and I. A marriage is forever, and should not be entered into lightly, but I can see in your eye that you share in my feelings."

Nicole began to blush. He'd never misunderstood, not for a moment. How could one think so foolishly to hide such attraction?

"Nicole, the hour for your mother grows late. Though she is able to still move about, and converse with a clear mind, it shan't be so by summer's end. I've no desire, outside of consideration for your mother, to rush you into a marriage if you are not ready." He looked at Nicole, hoping to see no hint of hesitation in her eyes.

Nicole exhaled, her breathing small shallow gasps. "John Paul…."

He released her, sitting her down now on her chair, as he kneeled before her on one knee. "Nicole, when first I came here, I did so reluctantly, and only to fulfill the obligation that I'd made with my grandfather. What I did not expect to find, he had somehow already known. That I would fall in love with this City, but somehow, I think he knew….that I would fall in love…with you."

Nicole's lips trembled, a fresh set of tears rolling down her cheeks.

"If you love me, and I believe in my heart that you do, would you consider Nicole, being my wife?" He exhaled, producing the ring he'd kept concealed until that precise moment.

Nicole was smiling, her heart pounding. She felt a pain inside her, as if the wound of so many years ago…the loss of a promised love…was suddenly being sutured closed forevermore. She had found love again, just as her mother had promised her. This love she could feel…would last a lifetime. "Yes John Paul, I will be your wife."

He carefully slipped the ring on her finger, looking deeply into her eyes as he rose, bringing her closely to him. "Nicole…I love you."

Her heart pounded, a wide smile crossing her face. She'd not even looked at the ring, it mattered little to her. What mattered most was the love she felt in the man's embrace, and the love she'd come to know lived in his heart. "A doctor's wife..." she laughed lightly into his ear.

John Paul scowled playfully, looking down at her. "This amuses you?" He laughed, taking her once more into his arms.

"Not amuses, nothing of the sort." She pushed away the tears from beneath her lower eyelids. "When I was a girl, playing house with my friends…it is rather amusing now, I'd not thought of it for years…I always pretended to be the doctor's wife!"

The pair stood laughing, and holding one another tightly. The terms of a wedding were yet to be discussed, but both knew in their hearts, it would not be a long courtship.

XXXXXXX

DeChagny retired that evening, a perfect dinner finished. He sighed as he closed his eyes. He was tired, very tired. The wine he'd shared with Raoul and Meg at dinner had been the highlight of the evening. He smiled to himself. Raoul thought that his proposal to Meg would have come as a surprise to him, but he'd known, when Raoul had asked, and Meg had agreed to accompany him to Plum house, that it would only be a matter of time.

He'd come to a greater appreciation of his son, and an affection for Meg as well. It had been on his visit before last that he'd made a rather fortunate deposit in the wine cellar; his instincts had been correct. When Madeline appeared that evening with a well-aged bottle of wine, DeChagny explained to Meg and Raoul of its significance. The wine was one of several bottles that he'd managed to save over the years, for a most auspicious occasion. It had been the wine served at he and Raoul's mother's engagement dinner. The announcement of such had brought Meg to tears, and a look of curious awe to Raoul's face. It wasn't often that DeChagny waxed sentimental, so for Raoul it would have been more than a surprise. He smiled again. He'd not told them that he'd a dozen bottles from their wedding safely guarded for Raoul's. Such news would be reserved for a later time.

DeChagny's only regret was that Madame Giry had not been present for the dinner. Yes, he'd felt honored to be the first to know, but a daughter's mother….he only hoped she'd not feel slighted.

DeChagny rolled over staring out the window. It had been years since he'd seen that emerald ring. His wife had taken it off days before she died, and told him that it had been put in safe keeping until Raoul was ready for it. He'd not questioned it though he'd wondered about it from time-to-time. He remembered the day he'd given it to her, her eyes wide and beaming as Meg's were that night. He stared out into the night sky, somehow wishing he could share this with Raoul's mother. He found himself wondering if angels could see their loved ones on earth, and if they could, he prayed she'd have been there with them.

Slowly DeChagny drifted off to sleep. It would be a busy day on the morrow. He'd return to Paris, to see what if any arrangements had been made for Dickens' funeral. He was still tossing about the idea in his mind of offering to travel as Nadir's companion to Chauesser, but likely he'd not be able to with present circumstances. Perhaps he'd plan a trip there himself later in the year, a second expedition of sorts if Nadir returned with anything of interest he could parlay that into a justification. His thoughts faded into the night, finally relinquishing him to the netherworlds of slumber.

XXXXXXX

Raoul and Meg sat out on the veranda, enjoying the refreshing night air. Raoul's hands carefully stroking Meg's, as he held her in his arms. There was a happy settled feeling between them. It had been too long that they'd wondered, too long that others had wondered, and now, they'd removed all doubt. On the morrow they'd accompany his father back to Paris, just for a day, so that they might share their joyous news with Meg's mother.

"Meg my love," Raoul said, Meg turning in his arms to face him, "when we return it is my hope that your mother will forgive us." He looked down into her eyes, they were sparkling as they'd never before, nay, he would say she was glowing. Suddenly her flesh in his hands did not feel so foreign, the touch of his hand on the small of her back not so forward. He'd no longer need to feel any guilt, or worry that he'd scandalized her reputation, or the good name of DeChagny. She was now his fiancé, the woman to whom he'd one day soon pledge his undying love. He closed his eyes, a kiss to Meg's temple, her cheek, and a single tender kiss on her delicate lips.

"Oh Raoul, I doubt that tonight, there is a woman in all of Europe who is as happy as I!" She slid her arms around his waist, nestling her cheek against his chest. She wanted to tell him that he'd removed all doubt for her that he held out any futile hope for Christine's return. She wanted to tell him that she finally knew that he loved her, and that she'd no longer live in Christine's shadow. She wanted him to know that she finally felt loved for her, not as a replacement, a substitute for another. But she would say nothing. This was their moment, one belonging not to memory or ghosts, but to the two living, breathing creatures that stood basking in the soothing glow of a full moon. Love was in the air that night, a seemingly tangible force of nature, filling their hearts, touching their souls.

Raoul held Meg for a long while; passionate kisses reaffirming their attraction for one another in a physical way that they'd long denied themselves in the name of discretion. As the moon glowed high in the sky, Raoul slipped his hand into Meg's escorting her inside. Tonight she'd retire, no longer a chorus girl, but the betrothed of a vicomte, and a hero of Paris. No longer a mere girl, but the bride of the a man long coveted by young debutantes, now respected in his own right for ridding the City of the threat of Crawlings. If ever a wedding were a celebration, this was destined to be one of great proportions.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Erik rose walking over to the window, pushing it open slightly so that he might listen to the soft pattering of the rain. It was a sound that soothed him to his very core. He'd read about this simple thing in hundreds of stories, but he'd been deprived so very long of it, that each time he'd opportunity to listen, he would. It was nature's music. Each drop of rain, falling randomly from the sky, reaching the surface of the earth, on leaf, or rock, or sea, causing a sound as unique as the raindrop itself. Each storm had it's own rhythm; just as each bar of music that he wrote had its distinguishing features.

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. The fragrance was a combination of dirt, and grass, and lightly washed flora, a hint of saltiness on the gentle breeze that wafted about, pushing rain sodden leaves this way and that until collected drops weighed heavily enough, causing the stems to give way, releasing the pool to the ground, yet another part of the music. The insects and birds alike used their own voices to sound their reply. It was a marvel to Erik, and he'd enjoy it whenever he could.

He glanced over at Christine. She was fast asleep; once again soothed by Erik's voice as she'd been hundreds, nay thousands of times before. He smiled. Nearly all the things he loved were at his fingertips, and yet something felt missing. Though he wished he could deny it, somehow abandon the calling, it was there. Though he had all he'd most wanted …everything he could have dreamed of and more, it called to him. He pushed the window open even further, extending his head outside until he could hear fully, the lapping of the water as the tide had come in. He loved this music, nature's music, but something ached inside of him perhaps all the more for it. He missed his own music. The creation of it, the inspiration, the release.

Erik sighed. He knew she shan't deny him his solitude should he ask for it, and yet, he'd feel guilty if he were not always at her side, for he'd promised. Now, unless a task was performed for her, such as the building of the outdoor chapel, he felt guilt. His want for solitude so that he might compose, was selfish and he'd simply need to push it from his brain. She'd been his muse, his inspiration. If he were to write music now…it would be different….now that he'd finally belonged to his love.

A splash of water ran over the sill of window, spilling onto Erik's cheek, bringing him back to his senses. He felt guilty once again, pulling the window closed. He moved back to the bed, nestling beneath the covers behind Christine. She'd not moved a fraction. He smoothed his hand over her tummy, whispering that he loved her in her ear. Closing his eyes he said a silent prayer. There was so very much to be thankful for…how could he be wanting for anything more.

XXXXXX

The night quietly gave way to the hours of darkness. The cool freshness of the air was soothing to man and beast. As all lay down for their night's rest, the were far more comfortable than they'd been at mid-day, and sleep came easily for them all.

In the heaven's the stars were sparkling, as if they'd received a polishing from the rains that had fallen. The night was fresh, and full of possibility, and love…..was most definitely in the air.


	207. Awash in Roses

Chapter 207 Awash in Roses 

Dear Faithfuls:

Another long chapter, one that was written and revised a half dozen times until I finally decided it was what I'd wished for. Please know that you are all in my thoughts, and though I am updating just twice a week until the end of March, I promise not to abandon my mission to see this story through to the end. Again, thank you for all of your kind words, and your patience during this time. This story still calls to me when I sleep, and though it may be not given it's proper attention from time to time, it still grows in my mind. I hope that this chapter brings you a bit of happiness, just as you have brought to me. - Angeldreamer

Lucien awoke, having fallen asleep at the table. The pitcher of ale sat empty, his pen still in hand. He was stiff, having slept with his arms propped on the table, his forehead pressed against them, hunched protectively over his writings. Slowly he sat up, the stiffness a terrible sort of uncomfortable. As his mind came back to him, he shook his head. He'd missed his opportunity to deliver his letter. Now, if he were so fortunate, he might be able to do so after the dinner that night. He'd become rather fond of the way he and the woman lingered over a press of coffee long after dinner was finished, and he'd no intention of cutting their evening short. He sighed. Perhaps that is why he'd avoided involvement of any kind for so many years. Divided interests never seemed to be of favor for the one who held them.

Rubbing his eyes, he looked around his quarters. Everything was already in place for their evening, save of course the meal itself. He'd the bread to knead and set to rise before he'd attend the services that were being held for the opera house staff each week now. There was much to do, including cleaning himself up, and stowing away every trace of the work that had kept him up into the wee hours.

This secret, secluded life had suited him for so many years. Though they had been lonely ones, they had not been without merit. Though he was seldom seen, he'd no less contributed to society in a profound way. It was his brief encounter with the happiness of the outside world that had unsettled him several months previous. Though it had complicated his life more than he could have ever imagined…he smiled…he wouldn't trade the relationship with this joyous creature for the world.

XXXXX

Pyotr lay as still as if he were dead. He'd no idea who or what he'd been hearing rummaging about on the floor above him. He'd sat for hours waiting, wondering, but alas he'd come to no conclusion. At first he thought it might be his horse, loosed of his reins somehow, but he'd dismissed that out of hand as being far too improbable. He'd thought another animal, but of heavy feet? He'd heard neither voice nor other sound to betray what roamed about above, but whatever it had been, it was still there, rummaging around, toppling crates and the like. He'd half a mind to shoot through the floor attempting to strike it down, but without knowing, even a man of his little conscience would be hard pressed to kill without some inclination as to who or what it was.

It was black as pitch there. He'd no idea really how long he'd been waiting, nor worse, how much longer he'd have to wait before he could venture out. He'd take the art, monies, and other valuables and flee from that place. Oh how he'd wished Sebastian had listened to his pleadings, for even now they'd be sipping wine along the shores in the south of France. He sighed. The hour was growing late, he was certain of it, and he'd an appointment to keep. His very livelihood, and Sebastian's life depended on it.

XXXXXXX

Nadir sat down with the collection of books the publisher had given him just hours ago. He smoothed his hands over the volumes, they were not sacred, for that word he reserved only for religious texts. Though there was something rather moving about the thought that before him lay the life work of a man so affected by the social injustices of their time, he'd penned his grief and outrage in his stories.

He lifted the first leather bound volume. 'Sketches by Boz'. Dickens had written it, his first in 1836. It was merely a collection of essays written when he was in the employ as a reporter in the House of Commons. It was an imaginative first work, but it was the author's second that had garnered public affections for his courageous candor and unflinching styling of the written word. 'Pickwick Papers', which he'd authored in 1837 had made him famous. Nadir lifted the volume in reverence; it had been well preserved. He'd been a strapping lad himself when the book had its first printing. The story harkened back to a time when he'd been too young to understand the social injustices, but had no less felt its pain.

His eyes scanned the score of other volumes in the collection that had been published nearly every year that followed. Nadir smiled when he picked up 'Oliver Twist'. It made him think of Erik and the night they'd spent at the winter house after Sara's death. That had been a most strenuous evening, and Erik had tried to soften the blow with distribution of some of Dickens' finer works; selecting something suitable for each person in the room. Erik knew that though the stories were fiction, the truths and lesson were not.

Nadir caressed volume after volume, 'David Copperfield' (1850), 'Hard Times' (1854) 'A Tale of Two Cities' (1859), 'Great Expectations' (1861). He sighed, his mind settling on what a daunting task that lay before him. How difficult it would be to make an accurate, respectable, representative assemblage of Dickens' works. There was so very much to consider.

A good deal of what the man had written, had no doubt contributed, at least in part, to some of the unrest that was growing in the City. Nadir scratched at his chin. The "Bohemian Revolution" as it was affectionately, or scurrilously dubbed, depending on your inclination, had been made light of by such stories. Some of the atrocities as Dickens called them, that occurred in the orphanages, schools, courts, and prisons, had been either the principal or underlying topics in most of his works.

Nadir sat in reflection for a long while. Perhaps it was this man's enlightenment and courage that had first drawn Erik to his work. For he knew first hand, of the injustices set upon those who did not fit to a certain standard. He somewhat imagined that if Erik had been permitted to live in society, he'd have befriended this man.

Nadir smoothed his hands thoughtfully over the collection, now strewn out over the large desk. DeChagny had brought it into the rather handsome office he'd tucked Nadir in; curiously close to his own. Nadir had spent many a quiet hour there, sipping brandy and puffing from the occasional cigar whilst in conversation into the wee hours of the morning with DeChagny himself.

From DeChagny's perspective, it spoke well of his new historian, and of the Opera Populaire, that the bequeath of Dickens novels would be on display there. A cornerstone to the literary tribute that DeChagny intended to pay to the talented authors that called Paris home. For those who had an affinity for Dickens' work would find it most intriguing. It was likely to have the power to draw even the most reticent of creatures into the opulent halls of the opera house, even those that might otherwise have been a bit hesitant to visit. DeChagny, was at the core, a businessman. He knew such things were appreciated not only by the wealthy that enjoyed theater and Opera. If he could draw in the remainder of the upper class, just once, he'd a good opportunity to woo them. Perhaps week-day performance could bring in additional revenues to help pay for the restorations.

His teacup refilled, Nadir pushed his hair back. He'd organize the volumes by year, giving proper attention to the chronology of the works. Then he'd dabble into the contents, and perhaps formulating a assemblage of a handful of profound words representative of what might have been going on in Dickens' life at the time the story was written. In his heart-of-hearts, Dickens had hoped that his work would one day lead to reform, to common decency, and recognition that every life was a valuable one. He'd once been quoted as saying that it was oft how humanity treated one another that led to war, theft, and moral decay. He'd reserved his most scathing satire for his attacks on the very concepts of the commercialism and industrialism, feeling fervidly that they were taking over every aspect of life.

Nadir stared down at the blank sheets before him. There was only one thing to do now, begin. He supped from his tea, setting it aside. He'd need a press of coffee and biscotti if he were to make it through until the rest of the world woke.

XXXX

Christine woke to find Erik's arms wrapped protectively around her shoulders, his leg draped over hers. She turned her head to glance toward the windows. He'd drawn the curtains sometime during the night, and she couldn't estimate either the time of day, or the weather. If it were still early, and it was dark and gloomy, she'd try to go back to sleep. But if it were sunny, and the skies full of glowing promise, she'd not want to waste even one minute, for her night had been restful, and she felt as if she'd a renewed energy to greet the day.

She looked up at Erik. His breathing always slow, strong, and even. Oh how she longed to crawl inside his mind and wander through his dreams. He was smiling. Something surely pleased him she thought happily. Over time, his night horrors had subsided. First they were replaced for a time by sleepless or restless nights. That had been followed by shallow sleep that had left him with little real refreshment. Then had come this. She ran her hand along his chest admiringly, the relaxed, true, peaceful sleep. He'd finally had all that he'd longed for; he was content.

Christine lifted her hand, running it along his jaw and collarbone, so lightly it could scarcely be considered a touch. His breathing grew shallow for a moment, as if mesmerized by her touch, then slowly returned to its predictable rhythm. Somehow in his sleep he could sense her…she smiled.

Sorrow was a bit of a companion if she allowed herself to think of how she'd pouted when they'd first returned to Courtland Manor. She'd set her mind to staying at the winter house, decorating the nursery, putting things in order to prepare for their growing family. If they didn't return to Courtland Manor at all, she'd not have minded it. But that was before she understood why he'd needed to bring them there.

Erik needed to protect her, provide for her, shield her from any distraction that might cause her discomfort or worry. He'd done what he'd done simply because he loved her…and that was what mattered. She ran her hand lightly over his cheek. Erik had known what was best for them all. The leisured pace of Courtland Manor had become a comfort to her. As she sheltered their children within her womb, it became increasingly more evident, that the time would soon come when she'd nothing to do but rest…and wait. No, she shouldn't have been so rueful when he'd turned that carriage about, making a dash for Courtland Manor. Too much excitement, and she might not now still be with child. That was what he wanted more than anything…to see her happy, healthy, and with babes in arms, smiling at him on the day of their birth.

The return to Courtland Manor had been good for them, all of them, in so many ways. It had allowed the doctor to spend more time with his sister and his niece and nephew, as Courtland Manor was within an hour's ride of her house. It had provided opportunity for the entire household to have the Saturday dinners where manners and good discussion were the order of the evening. It had been something that they'd talked about months before, now come to fruition, and the staff had looked forward to it at least twice each month. Christine had time to concentrate on eating well, trying to rest, and going for long strolls along the beach and in the woods on their property. It had allowed Erik time to train the new horse they'd found when they returned.

Erik treated the new horse much like a pet, insisting on being the one to feed it, and lead it about in the fenced area. It's mother watched protectively from the stable, and Christine from a comfortable chair under a wide umbrella. Erik had insisted that the horse sleep with something of Christine's so it would grow to know her scent. He was grooming it to be Christine's ride, once the babies were delivered. He planned to take her riding to every edge of the property he owned there, and to take her on a sunset ride along the shoreline. He'd described it vividly to her. But the horse had to be trained, and he would take the process slowly and gently, so as to give the horse an amiable demeanor. He knew the horse was of good breeding, but he'd make more than certain that it was well trained to be gentle with its rider.

Christine stretched slightly, yawning just a little. The babies still slept soundly. She'd feared the rather large meal at bedtime might have produced a restless night, but they had been oddly quiet. She smiled. Her family was sleeping all in the same bed, and she…she was watching, already feeling something of the mother bear watching over her cubs. Her fingers found their way to Erik's dark locks. Oh how she loved to run her fingers through his hair. When his ire was raised, the mere act, calmed him. But, when he was asleep, it caused him to smile fleetingly. She lay just running her fingers through his hair, watching and listening to him breathe.

Christine turned her head as she heard what she assumed now was thunder. She rolled her head back to look at Erik, nestling in a little closer to his chest. If it were thunder, it was a gloomy day outside, and she'd no need to rise. She'd rest a bit longer, as long as everyone was comfortable, she'd no want to disturb them.

XXXXX

Meg had risen early. In truth she'd barely slept the night before. Madeline had somehow been absent from her post most of the night, allowing for Raoul to stay much longer. They'd sat on the divan talking of what sort of wedding they wanted. Oh, they knew most details would be decided by her mother and his father, but they could dream while the dream was still theirs to have, before reality tainted their fancies.

They'd spoken of a sumptuous wedding in the church, verging on the edge of the likes of royalty. They'd spoken of eloping, which was altogether out of the question, though it would solve some immediate desires. Then there was the wedding at the Opera House. While no grander place could be found, it simply would not work with the schedule of performances running nearly continuously once the doors opened. It would never allow for preparations for a wedding. There of course were the royal gardens, and then the cathedral. Raoul's home was also considered, but wouldn't provide enough room for all those that would have to be invited. Then the last they'd laughed about, though if they'd had their way it would be what they'd choose. A wedding in the midst of the forest grotto where his grandfather had spent so very much time. For close family and friends, and then an elaborate reception in Paris at the Starboard. Ah yes, the possibilities were endless.

Raoul had retired to his own quarters somewhere in the middle of the night, when Madeline came in with a pot of chamomile tea. He'd promised to retrieve her at sunrise, so that they might have a walk taking in their first day of engagement in the privacy of their hearts. Once word arrived in Paris, they'd be all but deluged with questions and curious dinner invitations. Though they'd stay at Plum house for at least several weeks more, the eventuality was that this would be the wedding of the season, and every person and detail surrounding it would be scrutinized. Today was about basking in the glow of their new commitment, and their growing affections.

Raoul had been awake for more than an hour. He'd already had a brief word with his father, sharing a half-cup of coffee with him, before returning to his own quarters to dress. For the first in a long while Raoul had felt compelled to thank his father sincerely for his gesture of last evening. He'd not known the wine had been saved from their engagement, or how it had been brought to Plum house, for he knew the cellar never remained stocked when they were not at residence there. He'd been genuinely touched by his father's sentimental generosity, and he'd wanted to thank him before the day was underway. It would be a busy one, and he'd not want it forgotten in the hustle and bustle.

Raoul walked back to his quarters, a smile crossing his face as he ventured several more doors, staying back to give Meg her privacy, but he'd heard something. His cheeks grew into a warm smile…she was humming. He wanted so to push the door open and peer inside, but he'd not yet been at that liberty. In several months, he'd take great pleasure on sneaking up on her unaware, but he was not yet her husband, and to enter a woman's quarters while she was dressing was forbidden. He stood but a moment listening before he retreated to his own room. It would be a most pleasant morning.

Raoul closed the door behind him, going once more to the picture of his mother that hung on his wall. He'd sat silently with her for a time when he'd retired last night. He'd oft sit talking to her, sharing of his cares or triumphs as though she was right in the room with him. They were disjointed, rambling, one-sided conversations, mostly comprised of rhetorical questions, but they brought him some comfort.

He smiled, "mother," he began, putting his elbows on the bureau that lay beneath the portrait, resting his head in his hands. "She is the one you spoke of. She is beautiful, intelligent, and very doting on the wishes of father. You'd be proud of him, he's given his blessing, though however hesitant he'd been at first. Her name is Meg Giry, and will become the vicomtess DeChagny, just as you had been when you and father married."

He laughed. "Last night father served the same wine at our dinner that you'd had at your engagement dinner. I'd never thought of him as a sentimental man, but I dare say you knew better than I, that he could have his moments." He stared up at the picture. "You loved him so very much, right to the day you'd died you loved him…perhaps far more than he'd deserved. It makes me wonder mother, as neglectful as he was of you, I saw the love you held for him in your eyes. If that were the case, if I am to love Meg with the courtesy that father ought to have treated you….how much more will she love me?" He smiled at his mother, a tear running down his cheek.

"Last night, I knew…simply knew in my heart, that we shan't wait to become engaged." He looked down at his lap, his eyebrows raised. "It seems mother that there was an incident that happened….the details of which I struggle to remember to this day….now they say I'm a hero." Raoul shook his head. Though he'd placated his father by agreeing to accept the honor, in his heart he felt as though something was amiss.

He looked back up at his mother. "If we were to wait until we return to Paris to have a proper engagement…all of society would be delivering daughter after daughter to my doorstep offering to be my bride. It would cause embarrassment for me to have to turn them down, and further more injure Meg, perhaps making her unsure of herself. I know in my heart mother that she is the one you spoke of, and that I shall love her as you told me I would, and she shall love me as you promised she would." He sighed, "oh that I wished you could be here with us mother, to share this joy…but I know you are here in spirit. Thank you for sharing your dreams with me, for in them I take great comfort and assurance. How could I be wrong with all that you spoke of?"

Raoul rose, stretching to put a kiss on his mother's cheek before turning to ready himself for his walk with Meg. "My bride to be…" he said under his breath, smiling as he began to dress.

XXXX

The carriage driver was ready. Erphan and JP had decided to accompany him on the long ride to Chauesser to retrieve Nadir. The man would be coming in surely on the late afternoon carriage, or perhaps with the delivery of goods from Paris.

The trio would attend a service while they were in Chauesser, in lieu of the readings and hymns that were so often shared on Sunday mornings at Courtland Manor. An elderly retired man of the cloth had come there a number of times offering sermons, communion, and new music he'd heard from other churches. It had all grown out of Erik's desire that they might come together as one large family. However, since they'd be in the City, a proper suit, a proper pew, and the hell-fire and brimstone sermon would be good for them. Of course they'd several other things they'd wish to take care of as well as long as they were in the City.

Misty had given her letter to Erphan with instructions to leave it with the shopkeeper for delivery. Erphan had chided her, somewhat jealously, that she'd be exchanging letters for a long while because their lives would never intersect with enough regularity to ever form a lasting bond, and surely not love.

She sometimes hated when he'd say such things. He behaved as if he were her brother, surmising and deciding for her what she ought to do. In truth, she imagined he was jealous of her finding affection either with Andre, or at all. She'd once almost said as much, but then thought better of it. She'd been learning through the dinners Monsieur Courtland conducted, that it was far better to return a kind word for an injury, as one can never fully understand what troubled another.

Erphan carried with them a list of things to retrieve, including the rather large rocking chair from the winter house. They'd stop there on the way back from Chauesser. Nadir likely wouldn't mind the stretch in his legs after such a long trip, and the lawn needed cutting. With the three of them working together, it would be taken care of in a few hours time. They'd be making the most of the trip as long as it had not rained heavily there.

The three climbed on the top bench of the carriage; none wanting to appear too full of themselves to think they ought to ride in the carriage itself, that was reserved for the master and lady of the house, not their servants. The crack of the whip set the horses in motion, the wheels of the carriage sloshing through the waters the ground had yet to absorb of the rain. Though the sun had tried to peek through, the skies yet remained cloudy and gray.

Misty stood watching from the window in the kitchen. She'd laughed when they all climbed atop the carriage, but laughed harder still when she saw a flash of lightening and then the rains began again. The carriage stopped not far down the road, Erphan and JP leaped from the bench and climbing unashamedly inside. Misty shook her head as she moved away from the window. She'd have to remember to chide Erphan about it when they returned.

XXXXX

Lady C nodded as the bewildered maid entered her chamber to find her nearly dressed. She'd brought in her early morning tea, and had come with all the accoutrements to help her into her normal Sunday dress. But today she found the Lady of the house in a rather different garment. A departure from her normal pale mono or duo-chromatic regalia, it was a deep sapphire, with an emerald green bodice. Both elegant and striking, it complimented her skin tone, and the new glint in her eye.

The maid sat the silver tray on the table, pouring the first cup as she always did. She walked slowly towards Lady C, "may I?" she said coyly.

Lady C nodded again. The maid carefully began to tug on the laces of the corset beneath the open back of the dress. She was always given the task of helping dress Lady C, as she never had to be told how taught to pull the strings, she just simply knew. Silently she tied the bow, and finished hooking the eyes on the back of the dress. It proceeded quite normally from there, stockings, shoes, the coiffed hair, until finally Lady C was finished.

She supped from her cup of tea, and without a glance dismissed the maid, "thank you for your assistance, you may go. But do send Andre in, once he's had his morning cup of coffee won't you?"

The maid curtsied, and departed, pausing at the door. "Lady C, might I say, you are always beautiful, refined and elegant, but today, you are all the more radiant and striking." The maid put her head down, feeling she may have been a bit too forward with her compliment.

Lady C, always poised and proper, didn't flinch. "Thank you my dear. It has been a long while since I've worn this dress, and it is such a fine specimen, it would be a shame not to bring it out of the wardrobe from time to time." She smiled at the maid, who once again had taken on a bewildered gaze.

If she didn't know better she'd have said that Lady C had fallen and bumped her head. She'd never seen her in this mood, whatever it was, for they rarely saw her in anything but a serious and somber mood, with the exception of several times a year when she visited Chauesser.

Lady C smiled as the door closed behind her. She walked over to the full-length mirror she'd oft seen her mother admiring herself in. Though she kept herself quite well, vanity had never been in her. But today, she found herself wondering as she stared at her reflection, "would he remember me?" She closed her eyes, lowering her head, clasping her hands together. A nervous rush of excitement coursed through her. She couldn't imagine that she'd even see him, or if she did, that they'd recognize one another…but what if?

She raised her head once more looking deeply into her eyes in the mirror. "Would he still love me, as I have loved him all these years?" She smoothed down the front of her dress, studying her frame. She was a much older woman now, but certainly, there was something about her that resembled her former youth. Perhaps it would be enough…enough indeed. She looked over her shoulder as she heard Andre's characteristic knock.

"Enter," she called out. Andre would no doubt be pleased, though however surprised, when he learned that she'd agree to go to Paris; and he would accompany her. If they'd leave that very morning, perhaps they'd be in Paris before all of the hotels were full. Dickens funeral no doubt would gather people from long distances, all with need for sleeping arrangements. Though she did not flaunt her wealth, there were times when she was able to negotiate the seemingly impossible. Today would most likely be one such day.

XXXXX

Nicole woke to the strangest sound. At first she thought it were a rogue bird outside heralding the new dawn with unusual optimism. She could hear the tink of the rain on the pane behind the curtain that covered the small window on the outer wall of her room. She cocked her head straining to hear, it was not a bird; it was whistling. She smiled, it was John Paul.

She sighed, stretching her hands above her head, her right smoothing over the left, feeling the large lump that was on her finger. She smiled, it hadn't been a dream. She kicked her feet about excitedly under the covers, her eyes tightly shut, as she slowly brought her hands down by her face. She'd not even taken time to really look at the ring, to study it. In all the excitement of the evening, it had been secondary, or tertiary, to everything else.

After John Paul's proposal, and her acceptance, Kathryn had visited, both embrace and tear were exchanged. Though some at the tavern had looked over at the rather excited little huddle, they'd not even ventured over to ask.

Then, the long stroll back to his office to retrieve her mother. They'd taken her out into the other room, giving her a brandy while they told her of their decision. John Paul had tried in vain to apologize for not having asked her permission first. Her mother had dismissed it as old fashioned non-sense. "A couple in love should not be denied. For by the time permission is sought and granted, their hearts have decided already," had been her reply.

They'd decided it would be a rather small, intimate affair, just close friends and what little family they had. As fate would have it, John Paul's father would soon be arriving in Chauesser for the summer, so they'd not even have to broach the subject of how he would leave his work to attend the wedding. He'd be right there in the City. They'd brought her mother home and tucked her into bed.

The excitement of the evening could most certainly have caused them to stay awake until hours, but they'd both been exhausted, retiring not long after her mother had fallen asleep. Still as careful as ever, John Paul led Nicole to her bedroom door, a tender hand on her shoulder bidding her to sleep well. But last night had been different. For the first time, he'd leaned down, placing a delicate kiss on her lips, leaning in to embrace her. He'd said nothing more than good night, but in his touch, she'd felt more loved than she ever had.

She listened as John Paul continued to whistle. He'd made himself quite at home, and had proven to be quite capable in the kitchen. Every morning he helped Nicole make the bread and rolls for the day. He watched as Nicole measured and mixed. His preference was to kneed the dough. He'd become quite the expert, and the texture of the bread he'd worked with his hands was so fine it was like bread from a fine bakery.

Nicole rose, and carefully tip-toed over to the door. She opened it just a sliver to see that John Paul had busily made the bread; it was rising in the pans in the warmth that came from the oven he'd already stoked. Coffee was already brewing, she could hear it on the stove. Glancing over at the table she could see that he'd already set it for breakfast. At the center was the bouquet of flowers he'd given her yesterday. She smiled; he'd thought of everything.

Suddenly she felt strange, as though she were being observed. She glanced over at her mother's door, catching a glimpse of her tired face. She smiled all the more. Her mother's eyes were full of the twinkle she'd not seen since before her grandmother's death. The woman had pressed her finger over her lips, her eyes darting toward the kitchen. The pair smiled at one another.

They'd spent so many years taking care of others…today, they'd be able to appreciate the other side…and know how much love was conveyed by the simple gesture of a breakfast well made. They smiled once more, each closing their respective doors. They'd not rob John Paul of the pleasure they knew he'd derive in having everything prepared when they awoke. They'd set about dressing, but they'd not give any indication that they knew, for a surprise spoiled is a disappointment to the one who toils for it.

XXXX

Christine woke to the most glorious scent. It was indeed a pleasant thing to be greeted by the scent of vanilla and almond, a hint of citrus. The cooks, no doubt had spent the early morning hours baking. During the heat of summer, baking was kept to a minimum, if it could be helped, except for the early morning hours, when bread and rolls were made. They tried whenever they could to cook in the outdoor kitchen, to keep from warming the house even further. But today, it no doubt was damp and cool, the rains preventing the normal weeding of the garden and other things done out of doors. Today, she knew they'd be eating the most wonderful brioche and fresh marmalade. There would likely also be a wonderful beef stew for dinner. It seemed whenever it was a cool rainy day, they'd take opportunity to prepare those things they knew Elizabeth enjoyed. It was a predictable comfort she'd come to appreciate.

She sat on the edge of the bed. The side of the bed where Erik had slept was no longer warm; no doubt he'd been up for hours, leaving her to sleep as long as she could. Out of the corner of her eye Christine caught a glimpse of a white apron string weave in and out of the water closet. With the sound of the rain, she'd not even heard the bathwater being drawn. She watched as Misty came out, hanging a large robe over the hook on the door. She'd everything ready and was just coming to wake Christine.

"Madame, you are awake!" Misty said with surprise in her voice. She walked over assisting Christine to stand. "Do not worry, the water is not too warm. Monsieur Courtland thought you might enjoy a bath before joining him for a proper breakfast." She followed Christine into the other room, helping her into the bath.

As Christine settled into the warmth of the water, she smiled. Her stomach began to move. She'd woken the children and they'd cause her to hunger soon. "Do tell me, where is it that my husband has gone?" Christine said, leaning her head back as Misty began to pour a pitcher of water over her hair.

"Monsieur has gone out to the stables to check on your horse. It seems it is a bit timid in the rain, and he's want to gently break it of the habit."

Christine knew what that meant. Erik would be leading the horse around the pen, coaxing and reassuring. In some ways he was so dominant and forceful, yet he'd a commanding gentleness about him. Beasts could not be reasoned with by words. He understood that the horse would be much more suitable for a woman if it were trained with a kind tone and gentle but firm touch. She oft wondered where he'd learned such things, having spent so many years far removed from all that was normal, though she'd never asked. Perhaps one day he'd tell her, when he was ready.

"Very well." Christine exhaled. "Misty, I'd very much like…" The words had no sooner left her mouth than Misty disappeared, returning with a tray of cut fruit, a warm brioche with marmalade, and small pot of tea. "You always know just what would please me, thank you."

Misty blushed, she needed to correct Elizabeth. "I'm quite afraid you are mistaken Madame. It is your husband's requests that bring all things to your side, including me!" She smiled at Christine as she poured her tea. "When you are finished, simply ring this bell." She held up the dainty silver bell. "I'll be but several rooms away."

Christine smiled as she watched Misty walk through the door and out of the room. She lifted the brioche, it was still warm. As she took her first bite she closed her eyes. It was warm, and sweet, and utterly wonderful. The pleasure was made all the more at the thought that Erik had requested it. It seemed, that he knew what she wanted…even before she wanted it. Ah yes, she thought to herself as she took a second bite, washing it down with the tea. These are the small things, these small acts of thoughtfulness, that truly said that you were loved.

XXXXXX

Erik had taken the horse back into the stable, watching as it immediately returned to its mother's side. He laughed. Perhaps he'd coddled it too much! He was pleased. This time the horse had not fought to return to the shelter, but had instead followed his leading. Though they'd still have to get over the hurdle of lightening, and loud thunder, but that was a ways off. He was simply thankful that the horse seemed to be making progress, and that pleased him.

He walked slowly back to the house. He didn't mind the rain. To him it was soothing. He'd stood many a day with his face turned toward the sky when it rained. It was like God was washing away his cares, caressing him with his tears. Once he'd had that thought in his mind, he'd never let it leave him. Perhaps that was why he loved the rain as he did. It reminded him to be thankful.

Once inside he abandoned his sodden clothes donning a fresh pair that had been brought for him to the small room just inside the door. Soon he was dry, warm, and comfortable. He ventured out into the corridor, being greeted with a hot cup of coffee. Misty followed him down the hallway.

"Monsieur. I've prepared all that you requested . Breakfast will be ready for you whenever you are ready. Your wife is relaxing in her bath. I can hurry her along Monsieur."

Erik shook his head no. "Do not rush her. I want that she feel rested for this afternoon." He looked down at Misty as they walked along the hall. "The weather outside will likely be fowl for the remainder of the day. The carriage ride I'd hoped to take Elizabeth on this afternoon, would not be at all pleasant. I've come to a different idea, here is what I'd like prepared for me. They continued down the hallway, whispering. What he had in mind was to bring her comfort and happiness.

Misty listened intently, making note of each particular lest she forget even one of his most thoughtful details. She nodded as they came to the end of the hall. "It shall be taken care of Monsieur." She paused politely awaiting any further instruction.

"Thank you Misty, you are most helpful. Do you have the…"

Misty instinctively raised her hand extending it to him. "Monsieur," she said as she handed him a small basket of freshly harvested rose petals of nearly every color. She smiled at him. She believed in her heart that he was the most romantic man she'd ever known, and Elizabeth the most fortunate woman.

Erik smiled, taking the basket in hand. "Do bring breakfast at half-passed. Then Elizabeth and I should very much like our privacy for several hours before Nadir arrives. If Elizabeth feels up to it, we may take tea in the library early afternoon." Erik nodded. "Again, my debt of gratitude."

Misty smiled, curtseying before departing.

Erik turned and mounted the stairs. The hall leading from their room to the one at the end of the hall looked decidedly bare. He smiled. He dug his hand into the basket of petals, taking a delicate handful of them, and began sprinkling them generously on the floor leading away from their bed chamber down to the other end of the hall where a cozy sun-room overlooked the forest behind them. When Christine was finished with her bath, and filled with wonder as to where everyone might be, she'd wander out into the hallway to find a path of flowers to lead her way to breakfast. That would be simply the beginning of what Erik hoped would be a memorable day.

He turned, his basket now empty to venture down the stairs, when he heard the door that led into their room open slightly. He turned fully, looking down the hall. There she was, a bath sheet drawn about her, only the light from the candles in the corridor to guide her.

"Stephan?" She said, smiling widely. Her skin was still damp and dewy, her hair pulled up behind her. She looked warm but most decidedly relaxed. "They are beautiful," she bent down plucking several petals from the polished wood floor, raising them first to her nose and then her lips.

The pair stood staring at one another from opposite ends of the long corridor covered in rose petals and candlelight. Erik in his dark pants, white shirt loosely tucked. Christine wrapped in the long white bath sheet. They stood just staring at one another; it had not been what either had expected that morning.

Erik looked at Christine, thinking she resembled a Greek goddess, a relative of Aphrodite herself.

Christine took in Erik's handsomeness. He looked exactly like the prince that she and Meg would invent to steal them away to their castles to live happily ever after…and indeed…for her the fairytale had come true. For there before her was a man, handsome, strong, mysterious, and one with whom she was very much in love.

Slowly, the pair began to move toward one another. Though their movements were gentle they caused a flurry of flower petals to lift and flow as if pushed about by an imaginary water current. As they drew closer, their smiles began to fade into something far more serious, a deep look of admiration and undulating love. When finally they met, the stood, their hands tenderly touching, their eyes exchanging wondering glances. Was there anything more potent, more intoxicating than their love?

Erik reached out, not touching her stomach as was always his first reaction whenever they were parted, but instead Christine's shoulder, the other hand slipping tenderly behind her back. He drew her to him, the warmth of her flesh causing Erik to exhale as he bent down placing a tender kiss on the side of her neck. She was the mother to their children true, but she was his wife first and always first.

He lowered himself looking into Christine's eyes, kissing her tenderly before he lifted her into his arms. She pressed her cheek against the flesh of his chest as he carried her back down the hall toward their bedchamber, the long sheet she was swaddled in dusting lightly along the floor, further disturbing the colored petals sending them once more into flight.

She'd left the door partially ajar, Erik pushed it open with his shoulder, taking her inside, closing the door behind them. They'd promised never to refuse one another, and they both knew a day would soon come when they would have to deny their passions for the sake of their children…but today was not that day…and they'd learned to embrace each day, and each other, as it was given them.


	208. Not Just Any Book

**Chapter 208 Not Just Any Book**

Andre supped from his cup of coffee listening intently to Lady C explain of her wishes to visit Paris. Though he was astounded, nay, shocked, that she'd found his suggestion so agreeable, his surprise was usurped by in what detail she'd laid out their plans. There were allowances for detours here and there that she thought might be of interest to him as well as herself. It was almost as if his accompaniment would closer resemble that of a family member than of a servant or aide. They'd be gone a total of two and one half weeks; the longest he assumed, she'd ever been away from her manor since she'd occupied it after her father's death. Lady C had clearly outlined what was to be done in their absence, and what was to be prepared for their return. By his estimation, she intended to return with quite a large supply of goods, taking in the pleasure of selecting them herself at all the finest purveyors.

Andre had always admired her use of gesture, the way she held her hands when she spoke; the way in which she looked someone directly in the eye when she spoke to them. She sat, her spine rigid, her chin slightly elevated but not in a snobbish but rather a regal way, her shoulders square. It was her normal repose whenever she spoke of something of a serious nature. He'd never seen anyone quite like her outside of the Royal court; he genuinely admired her.

"Now, as to who shall tend to our needs whilst we travel. I rely on you Andre to select two members of our staff to accompany us. They're to be instructed to bring with them several of their formal garments. I've no doubt they shall need them for dinners, and other such formal occasions."

Lady C stood abruptly. "Now Andre, do send in the maid once more. I've a trunk to pack, and you've some to do as well." She supped from her cup, and then abandoned it as she moved toward her dresser. "We shall depart by the lunch hour. Do have the kitchen staff pack several baskets for us, as well as prepare a light tea before we depart."

Andre stood, ready to offer his acknowledgement and pleasure.

Lady C glanced up, walking over to Andre, a serious yet vulnerable look in her eye. "It has been a great long while since I've traveled…" she paused, "I am not all that accustomed to moving about in the hustle and bustle of great throngs of people of whom I've made no acquaintance. Chauesser is the great exception. There people are respectful and considerate. I do fear that a City the likes of Paris will not be as warm or gentle. And certainly not so with being all the busier with Dickens' passing." She reached out and touched his arm. "Do know sir that I shall rely on you much as a mother would a son, and implore you to not find offense if I am from time-to-time abrupt and ill natured during our journey. I've no doubt I shall adapt, but it may take some time to do so."

Andre came forward, taking Lady C's hand, lifting it placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles. "It shall be both a pleasure and an honor dear lady for me to accompany you. You have my word that I shall do all that a son wouldst so do for a mother. It is the very least I am to do in order that I may repay your kindness in allowing me to travel with you." He lifted his head, gently releasing her hand. "And might I add that it is a splendid thing that you do for yourself to visit Paris. It is truly a City to behold, full of interesting things and curious people. Though they are much more impersonal than Chauesser to be sure, they are hardly as rude as some Cities." Andre paused, then offered further words of encouragement.

"Though it is a sad happening that draws us to a visit there, I think you will find that it will be both refreshing and rejuvenating." He smiled at her, staring into her eyes for a short while before adding. "Lady C, I've long been in your faithful service, and both admire and respect you as my employer, and the benefactor of the City of Chauesser. But, as time has progressed, and with the loss of my own mother, might I say that being in your employ has provided much comfort to my heart, and what fortunate thing it would be that I might find myself the son of such a lady." He looked at her once before he bowed his head.

Lady C found herself nearly speechless, having not expected such emotion from Andre. She knew him to be rather stoic like herself. She blinked. Perhaps his outpouring was her fault as she had herself begun this discourse. She nodded at Andre, one last glance exchanged before he departed, the door closing behind him.

She turned walking over to the window. Oh that she'd had opportunity to raise their son. Might he be as fine a person as this young man? A tear ran down her cheek. She brushed it away, returning to her packing. Why she would torture herself so, she did not know any longer. She could no sooner alter her past, reclaiming both her son and her lover, than she could capture the moon or the sun. It was an elusive dream that would haunt and taunt her forever she was certain. She sighed sorrowfully. She would make the best of their travels to Paris. Perhaps it would be as Andre said "rejuvenating", one could only hope so.

XXXXX

Pyotr had sat for such a long while that he'd fallen asleep. He startled, a horrified gasp rising from his chest; he felt like he was in a great tomb. Sitting up, blinking, he tried to regain his faculties. He tipped his head to one side, stretching his neck to listen; he heard nothing. As his breathing returned to normal, he slowly began to rise, standing on the crates to lift the door just enough to glimpse the overturned crates that lay scattered about. He closed the door slowly, fearing only that the creaking of the wood would betray him. He sat back down on the crate below. He'd wait. Now that he was awake, and knew it to be the full light of day, he had need to be all the more cautious. For if found now, goods in hand, surely he and Sebastian would both be hanging by their necks in some prison abandoned for eternity.

He sighed, settling himself with his coat propped beneath him as a means of comfort. There was something to be said for the need of patience in his particular profession.

XXXXX

Nadir turned his head quickly, hearing the rap on the door. His neck screamed of the pain, a shot of intense warmth running through the protesting muscles. He'd been so deep in thought, so focused on his work, that he'd nearly lost perspective of where he even was.

"Come in!" he called out, rubbing at the back of his neck, then stretching his arms far above his head. He looked down at his cup of coffee. It had lost it's warmth, and appeal. He fully expected that it would be one of the kitchen staff, come to refresh his coffee, and perhaps bring a bit of an early tea for him. The biscotti had been devoured hours ago, and his stomach now had begun its characteristic low rumble. He returned to his work, the blotter rocking back and forth over his last words.

He listened as the door opened and closed. The sound of the teapot rattling on the tray as it was placed on the small table behind him, reaffirmed that he'd been correct. "Thank you," he didn't look up. "I'm sure to be taking my dinner here as well, if you'd be so kind to make such…" he startled. A gentle hand on his shoulder and a soft brush of lips across his cheekbone told him who it was that paid a call on him, and it was most certainly not a cook.

"I trust the writing is going well?" she said inquisitively, as she came to rest on the divan just off to the side of his desk. "I should think this to be quite an honor?" He eyes were roaming Nadir's face. He looked tired and worn, but pleasantly spent.

"Antoinette!" He smiled, rising to take her hands in his, kissing her lightly on the cheek in return. "I'd rather thought you'd still be cross with me." He said, a playful tone in his voice as he watched her pour a cup of tea for both of them.

"Cross with you good sir? On the contrary," she walked toward him as he reseated himself at his desk. She smiled, patting her hand on his shoulder before walking back to the divan. "I shan't be cross Nadir, though I dare say a certain someone who was expecting your presence may not well receive an empty carriage!" She took a sip out of her cup.

"Ah yes, our mutual friend indeed. Yes, he would be most vexed if a carriage containing nothing but shipped goods arrived, no friend in sight, but you see, I'd delivered a note to the carriage driver, who wouldst have been driving me, last evening before I retired. One of Monsieur Courtland's household has surely been dispatched to retrieve me. When they arrive, they shall be given my note of most apologetic regret." Nadir nodded, lifting the cup toward Madame Giry as if he were toasting her.

She smiled at Nadir, "I do think he shall regret missing the funeral, though it would hardly be practical for him to attend," she said glancing down. "Furthermore, Erik would have not only condoned, but likely would have encouraged you to do this most noble work Nadir."

She shifted her weight standing to walk around the desk, running her hands along the open volumes splayed across his desk. "He was indeed a talented man." Her eye took on a reflective glaze. "A talented life cut short, in the midst of the very bloom of his creative genius." She lifted one of the volumes into her hands. "It is a shame, a true bitterness of fate really that things turn as they do. For some a life of forty years would give opportunity for due diligence in order that they might accomplish all that they were born to. At the end of their fortieth year, death would not deprive us of anything more than their company. But for a man such as this…" she thumbed through the pages of the book. "A life of a hundred years might not have been sufficient, and his death even then would have left the world wanting of more."

Nadir looked at Madame Giry in utter amazement. He laid his pen down, walking around the desk, taking her hands into his. "My dear Antoinette, you've happened upon the very words I shall use to describe, in splendid brevity, the very thought I struggled to capture!" He leaned forward placing a kiss on her cheek, a childish grin crossing his face. "You do not mind if I borrow tour words do you my dear?"

Madame Giry was blushing. She'd never thought herself to be eloquent, and certainly not worthy of quoting. There were many great and diverse minds who would so aptly put a wonderful depiction of this author's life into words. "Nadir, I must humbly decline, for I'm not gifted in being……."

Nadir laughed, shaking his head. "My dear, you are at once a talented ballet mistress and an eloquent speaker. Brevity is indeed a gift when you are to consider how precious little space will be afforded this display. Your very words embody the opinion of many of his faithfuls."

Nadir pecked her cheek once more before he returned to his work, feverishly penning the thoughts before the aura of the moment escaped him."

Madame Giry rose to leave him to his work, setting her cup on the tray.

Nadir's eyes did not move from his work, but his arm stretched out his hand into the air, "do stay dear Lady, do stay."

Madame Giry's heart was filled with familiar warmth as she moved forward lightly running her fingers gently along his palm. They'd grown so comfortable with one another, that even silent presence provided a sense of comfort to the other. Slowly her hand left his as she walked over to the tray pouring herself another cup of tea. The books on Nadir's desk beckoned her like old friends. She lifted a copy of 'Oliver Twist' caressing the spine. Yes, surely Erik would approve most heartily of Nadir's endeavors.

The room was silent save the telltale sound of a writer's pen making its tiny etched strokes on the parchment. The raven-black, indelible ink staining the surface of the ivory page in familiar characters and symbols, thus recording forever the author's work. They will be later read and comprehended by people whom the author may never meet, or perhaps whose life may not even begin before the author's ended. Thus was the purpose of a true historian. They did not live and toil for their own benefit, recognition, or flattering commendation. They live to record thoughts, feelings, truths, and suppositions so that future generations might understand the time in which they lived, with flawless clarity. There was the occasional pause to re-ink the pen in the well before the sound returned.

There was the soft tone of Madame Giry's thumb sliding across the corner of the page as she turned and smoothed it into place as she read. The small crackle of the fire in the fireplace lit only to take the edge off the damp coolness in the air. It was not unspoiled silence, but one full of near silent things that assisted in Nadir's concentration. He'd grown rather fond of Madame Giry's companionship, and though he longed to see Erik and Christine, the thought of an afternoon spent with Madame Giry such as it were, was an entirely pleasant delay.

XXXXX

Lucien scrambled about. The bread was baking in the oven. He had several pots simmering on the stove. His clothes freshly pressed, the bottle of wine on the table. Now he would tend to his bathing and grooming. It would not be long and the woman would arrive for her visit.

He sighed, a mental shift would be needed to complete the transition from the man who'd been scrawling enflaming words under the protection of a nom de plume, to the man who was employed as propsmaster by the Opera Populaire. Nothing would provide a better catalyst than a hot bath and a snifter of brandy.

Having poured in the last of the hot water from the stove, he slipped his feet into the steaming fluid, wincing from the warmth more suitably described as hot. Once submersed his muscles would thank him for it, but now, his skin protested until it took on a strange sort of numb. Yes, this is where he could gain the focus that he needed to entertain this guest.

Soon they'd be at the end of their arrangement and she'd either choose to continue to come of her own volition, or she would once more blend into the staff as if he'd not existed at all. Whatever she chose, he was thankful she'd kept her word, for it meant so very much to him.

XXXXX

Nicole moved toward the door of her bedchamber, leaning up against it to listen. The hour for a normal breakfast had come and gone. Her hunger was getting the better of her, and soon she feared her stomach would make such terrible clatter that it would sound like a wild animal had crawled into her room! If she were hungry, she knew well that her mother would be as well. She'd settled in her mind that she'd venture out slowly so that John Paul would have opportunity to surprise her if he was still inclined to do so.

Slowly she began to open the door, taking note at once that her mother's door was ajar. Her brow furrowed. Had her mother ventured out leaving her to sleep? But then she heard it. Quiet conversation with a bit of muffled laughter.

She walked silently to her mother's door, peering in through the small bit of space left from the door being ajar. At first she could not make out what on earth it was that John Paul and her mother were huddled over, but then her face grew a deep shade of crimson. It was the trunk. She closed her eyes. She wondered how much time they'd spent going over the items in it. They were the intimate, humorous, painful, details of her years on earth. They ranged from her first snips of hair, cut away only because it fell into her eyes, to her first lost tooth, to the first set of shoes she'd worn, to the very first story she'd written, the first picture she'd drawn. Her first pair of gloves, her first invitation to a ball. There had been so very much stored in that trunk, some of which she'd never wished for a single soul to have ever seen it, and there they were, huddled over it. Her mother appeared rather animated, and John Paul very interested in every amusing detail.

She shook her head. They both sat with a cup of coffee in hand, no doubt he'd gone to wake her first, and they'd lost track of time. She glanced over at the table, it was still set, and the loaf of bread sat in the center. A sheen on its crown from the butter that had been melted over it to keep the crust soft. She glanced back toward her mother's room. Her options were few. She could sneak out into the kitchen retrieving an apple and coffee, or she could stumble into her mother's room, appearing not to have noticed all of the preparations in the rooms behind her. The latter seemed to provide the best opportunity for preserving John Paul's feelings, and it would certainly be the most expeditious she decided.

She knocked lightly on her mother's door, trying to give appearance that she'd not noticed his presence. "Mother?", "oh, I am terribly….what is it that the two of you…."

Her mother began to laugh. Though it was somewhat weaker than it had been months ago, it was never-the-less genuine. "Dearest Nicole, do come in. I was just showing John Paul some of the precious treasures from your youth."

Nicole smiled as her mother and John Paul glanced at her; both pairs of eyes had a mischievous glint in them. John Paul extended his hand to Nicole, bidding that she join them sitting on her mother's bed. Nicole moved toward them, her hand reaching out for his. Her stomach made a great loud gurgling sound, causing her to flush yet again. "Forgive me…" she said, a great embarrassment in her tone.

John Paul stood, as if shaken from a stupor he'd fallen into. "I have been a most remiss house guest." He walked toward the door. "If you ladies would do me the honor, I'd love very much for you to join me in the kitchen for…a meal." The tops of his ears turned red, as well as the tip of his nose, as he looked at his watch realizing the hour. "You must be starved my dear!" He rose embracing Nicole.

He extended his arm, bent at the elbow to her mother, Nicole's hand already in his. "Now dear ladies, I've a bit of breakfast, though I dare say at this hour it will be more suitably called an early tea." He smiled, leading them to the table, pulling out their chairs for them. As he slid Nicole's in beneath her, he leaned down, placing a delicate kiss on her cheek. "Good morning my dear," he whispered in her ear.

Nicole blushed heavily; her mother tried not to notice. Her hand rose to cover her cheek. Just a week before, they'd sat at that very table, a mere collection of souls brought together by circumstance. Today they were family, though not yet by law, they felt one all the same. She smiled as John Paul returned to the table with copious plates of food. "Now my dearest ladies, this is the first I've prepared a meal for anyone other than myself, so do forgive me if it is not quite as palatable as the dishes you prepare. I do beg your tolerance if I might." He smiled at Nicole as he removed the domes from the serving plates. "I've been quite an observant student, but I dare say looks and taste may be two diverging opinions in this case."

The woman began serving the food onto their plates. Soon the prayer had been said, general compliments on the taste and texture had been made, and John Paul's obviously latent culinary skills exposed and massaged.

"I shan't think I could eat another bite." Nicole's mother said, looking down pitifully at all that remained on her plate. She lifted her dainty china cup from the saucer, pressing it delicately to her lips. "This was a most pleasant and unexpected surprise good sir." She reached over and patted John Paul's hand. "In fact, it has been a most pleasant morning." She smiled, glancing back and forth between John Paul and Nicole. "If you do not mind, let us see to the dishes, and then I should like very much to retire for a brief nap."

John Paul did not even look at Nicole before he responded. "You've not to lift a finger dear lady, if a rest is what you seek, it is what you should do first. There is no use in tiring yourself prematurely. This afternoon, providing on the good fates of the weather, perhaps we could go for a stroll, or a carriage ride." He felt himself growing eager to discuss the details of what sort of wedding the two of them envisioned. Soon his father would be in Chauesser, and such news would be better received if a firm plan were in place.

Nicole settled her mother into her bedchamber while John Paul tended to dishes from their meal. Nicole came out of her mother's room to find John Paul drying the last dish, putting it into the cupboard.

She went to John Paul, suddenly feeling as though she'd an ally with whom she'd discuss everything. It would be complicated for her, having been self reliant for nearly the length of her life. She'd a dilemma she'd need his advice for. There was the matter of the bag and books she'd found. Though they'd had a most pleasant morning, it burned in the back of her mind that she'd been utterly remiss in seeing to their delivery, and was entirely certain she'd not be at peace with herself until she'd returned them.

"There is a matter I'd like to discuss with you, if you would not mind an interruption." She was still unfamiliar with this new interaction, not being entirely sure how to approach, how to touch, how to be proper yet convey her affections. She stood before him, hands folded neatly in front of her as she watched him lay the linen towel over the side of the sink to dry.

John Paul turned toward her, smiling. Sensing her hesitation he came forward slowly looking down into her eyes as he placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. Carefully he lifted her hand and put it in the crook of his arm leading her out into the sitting area by the window overlooking the pines in the yard behind their dwelling. It was as far as they could venture for privacy. He sat down with her, somewhat closer than he would have done so prior to their engagement, and yet the idea was as new to him as it was to her. They'd learn so very much together.

"Now Nicole, what matter do you have need to discuss?" He said calmly, imagining it would have something to do with her mother, or their wedding perhaps. Or, even a question about his father whom they'd barely discussed.

"John Paul I've something of the man's that I've had since the evening he rescued my grandmother, though at first I'd forgotten I had it, but now I've found it again and it causes me great distress. A hero to be unrewarded is nearly unheard of, but for even what goods he had to be taken from him, is certainly no way to return the indebtedness that I feel for him." Nicole looked down at her lap, entirely certain she'd confused John Paul. She rose, "here, let me show you." She disappeared into her bedchamber.

At first John Paul's instinct was to follow her. But now, since his intentions had been made known, he'd not enter her room without escort. He sat back down waiting for her to return. He wondered whatever it would have been that she'd held those long months since the storm.

Nicole returned, small bag in hand. She sat down, putting the bag between them. "It should be known that though I did suffer through the temptation of opening even one, I did not." Nicole laughed nervously. "Though I did have quite a moral dilemma about it really." She glanced down at it and then at John Paul.

John Paul turned his head, looking down at the bag. He assumed she'd brought it out to show him, but would leave the actual discovery up to him. He reached inside and withdrew a strange leather volume, the oddest shade of scarlet he'd ever seen, with a distinct lock that truly only kept out the unimaginative. He took it into his hands, turning it over and over again in his hands, as his mind raced.

He turned most seriously toward Nicole. "Where did you have find these?" He looked at her in earnest?

"They were in the man's satchel." Concern grew on her face as she watched John Paul's brow furrow, and if she'd not known better. She'd have thought him to have suffocated for not an issue of air entered or left his lungs. "John Paul, whatever is it that causes you such despair?"

He shook his head just slightly looking deep into her eyes. "I've seen books exactly like these." He smoothed his hand over the worn colored leather. "They are most unusual are they not?"

Nicole nodded her head. She'd thought the same, for she'd never seen any others like them.

John Paul turned to sit facing Nicole. He took her left hand into his. His fingers caressing the ring on her finger. "Nicole, yesterday, when I'd gone to retrieve this ring, I realized I'd tucked it into a place you and I had yet to venture, that of the small collection of trunks that my grandfather had, of old letters, medical journals, and the like." He inhaled. When in my haste, I'd tucked the ring in the trunk I'd paid little mind as to what I'd pushed aside, quickly pushing books over the small box, leaving it there since I arrived." He looked at Nicole, a hint of some recognition beginning in her eye. "But yesterday, when I'd gone to retrieve it, of course I was in a much different state, actually looking at what I moved lest it be fragile or of some particular importance. Among the other volumes stored in that trunk, was a dozen, nay, maybe more, of books, though in much better condition than this one. It was the color that first drew me in, and I'd inspected the back, look here do you see this symbol?"

Nicole stared at John Paul, completely bewildered by the conversation.

John Paul continued, "Goater's was a lace company which started in 1821 in Nottingham. You might recall they were the first company to create embossed replicas of their lace so that they would not need to carry precious samples with them." John Paul looked at Nicole; he needed to further explain. "You see, this book was a tool that lace salesmen used to pin their samples in, see here this little hole at the top of each side, it runs the whole way through."

Nicole examined it with interest, still uncertain where the conversation would lead.

"Nicole, when my grandfather first came to Chauesser, his business was small. He had very little in the way of belongings, and even less money with which to start his practice, so he sold lace the first few years that he was here. He actually made quite a little money at it, being the only Goater's salesman in the area for hours around. He made enough to purchase the small equipment he needed, to furnish his office, and tuck a bit away in savings for a rainy day."

Nicole smiled at John Paul, thinking him to be quite mad.

"You see Nicole, my point is this. My grandfather had these particular books to use as a salesman for displaying lace samples. Once he was finished with the lace business, practicing as a physician only, he had compiled quite a number of these books. Knowing my grandfather, he was a frugal man, and likely re-used the books rather than to discard them."

Nicole's eyes began to light up.

"You see Nicole, the point is that somehow your new friend Monsieur Courtland and my grandfather were somehow connected. There is no other plausible explanation for the reason that Monsieur Courtland would have books that were identical, unless he too were a saleman of lace which is highly unlikely given his age. We shall have to inquire how he knew my grandfather, and by what means he came to possess the books, for there can be no other explanation than that my grandfather had given them to the man himself."

Nicole stared at John Paul. "My grandmother was convinced that she knew Monsieur Courtland, calling him by another name…I do not recall just now. Perhaps this man's father knew your grandfather?"

John Paul smiled. "You are both brilliant and beautiful my dear Nicole, that would explain a great deal indeed. We shall have to see to finding the man and returning the books to him. It is only what is right." He smiled again. "I should like very much to speak to someone who may have known my grandfather, or have heard about him."

He shifted on the divan. "Nicole, perhaps we can inquire at the mercantile. I understand that his staff return regularly to retrieve things that were ordered from Paris, and to tidy up the yard about their house. We could somehow plan for a visit to see him to return them."

Nicole was already nodding in agreement. "Do you think mother could make the journey? We've really no where else to leave her."

John Paul smiled, I'd neither leave her behind nor cause her peril. We shall find a way for the three of us to journey to see him. It would be a most interesting journey.

Nicole nodded, leaning into the crook of John Paul's outstretched arm. Having a companion with whom one could share such things, would indeed be an answered prayer.

XXXXX

Erik lay listening to Christine talk of her childhood, as enamored with her descriptions as he had been when she'd spoken of them on what they now affectionately called their honeymoon. He admired how her eyes lit up when the thought were happy ones, and how they took on a more serious depth when she spoke of things that were either sad or unfortunate. She possessed both the genuine emotion, and the confidence to portray what she felt whenever they were alone, and it was all the more endearing to him each passing day.

"You see Erik, if our children are half the mischief makers that Meg and I were, we shall need additional pairs of hands to care for them!"

Erik ran his fingers mindlessly through her hair just looking down into her eyes and listening. "Are your tired Christine?"

Her uttering ceased as she turned her head on his arm, rolling over to look more fully into his eyes. "Tired is most certainly a changing thing. But, no, at the present, I am not tired." She ran her index finger up and down the center of his chest, tracing each rib before reaching the bottom and starting all over again.

"Good, then I've a surprise for you my dear, something I am certain will cause you to smile." He kissed her collarbone, rising, taking her hand into his. "Come, let us get you dressed in a comfortable gown." Erik said with a smile.

Christine was smiling widely. "My dearest husband, whatever is it that you have planned that you shan't be telling me of it straightaway?"

Erik simply smiled all the more. "You shall see my dear," he kissed her other shoulder, gently dropping the dress down over her head, he leaned forward and kissed the tip of her nose, "you shall see."


	209. Professing Hearts

Chapter 209 Professing Hearts 

Dear Faithfuls:

Yet another longer chapter. I'm updating today, as Friday I will be out of town yet again, but this time for a social event. I'm going to a large city an hour's drive from where I live to participate in festivities for celebrating St.Patrick's Day. Now, a confession, I am not Irish, but have oft admired the culture, and the Country. It will be a welcome break from all things serious. We all need a frivolous diversion every now and then, and a dear friend of mine reminded me of it just the other day…take time to breathe…and so I shall.

I hope you enjoy this chapter. The next is sure to be a bit hair-raising to be certain….sorry for the hint! I hope everyone has a wonderful weekend, and I want to renew my sentiment that I am most ardently looking forward to March being over so that I might return to my more frequent chapters, and to the replying to all of your reviews. I do continue to read them, and some days, they are the brightest spot in them! Take care everyone, your faithful Angel Dreamer.

XXXX

Erik lifted Christine's abundant, flowing tresses of hair from her back, draping them over her shoulder so that he might tend to the ribbons at the back of the gown. "The woman does such fine work does she not?" Erik was referring to the gown he'd just fitted on Christine, it was one that had come from the seamstress in Paris.

Christine smoothed her hand over the fabric, admiring its' beautiful simplicity. It had been the first she'd worn the dress, not having figure enough until the present to fill it out without appearing ridiculous. She ran her hand over and over her mid-section thoughtfully. "Indeed she most certainly does my love." She turned about in Erik's arms. "My dear husband I love you."

"Yes Christine, I know, and I love you." Erik leaned forward kissing her forehead. He was eager to take her to her breakfast, and the surprise that would follow it.

Christine grasped Erik's hand; she wanted him to understand what he meant to her. "Erik, I mean sincerely, that I love you deeply, have come to love you more with each passing day." She brought his hand to her stomach. "You have amazed me, thrilled me, cared for me, protected me, sheltered me, nurtured me, entertained me….fulfilled me."

Her hand rose, the palm resting on the side of Erik's cheek. "I have grown in ways that I shan't have thought possible since we left the Opera House. Erik, in those years we spent in one another's company, me coming to love you in spirit…not knowing of the body you inhabited…" Christine ran her hand along Erik's chest; he stood speechless. She still had the power to enchant him with her words, genuineness of sentiment, but most of all with the slightest touch of her hand.

"Erik, it is days such as this one that we have spent in one another's company that have revealed to me the depths of your love, the depths of your intellect, and with what intensity you have studied the human condition. It seems to me that you have thought out and anticipated my every need or desire before I've even arrived at the realization myself."

She smiled at him as he stared down into her eyes, gently tugging at one of the tendrils of her hair. "One could not be accurate, so perfectly precise, without a great deal of toil and thought; lest they be clairvoyant of course!" The last comment making both of them smile. "I oft have thought that I have so little means to show the depth of my gratitude, save my affections of course."

Erik was about to protest, to offer Christine correction, for surely her very presence was all the thankfulness, all the assurance of her gratitude that he needed.

"Dearest Erik, I want for you to know how very much you mean to me, how you have penetrated every pore of my being, so much so that I feel that you exist even in each breath that I exhale. Your love has enraptured and encircled me. It encompasses my every waking thought, and every dream that I wander in my slumber. To have such a man as my husband makes me I dare say, the most blessed creature alive." She kissed Erik lightly on the lips.

"Know that when I say that I love you, that in those words rest a most intense sentiment that the language alone cannot fully describe. When I say I love you, I am thanking you for nurturing me. When I say I love you, I am expressing my gratitude for your years of patient attention, receiving nothing in return. When I say I love you, I am wanting you to know how grateful I am that you rescued me from a life that would never have produced a great love such as we share. When I say I love you, I am conveying to you my most earnest gratitude for your entrusting me with the greatest privilege of carrying your children, and bearing the title of your wife."

Christine paused, looking deeply into Erik's eyes, brushing away the stray tear that ran down his cheek. "Finally, when I say I love you, I am proclaiming that I could not imagine a day of my life that would not be filled with great sorrow if you were not in it, for you have become everything to me. Until my dying breath I shall be forever devoted and loyal to making you as happy a man as I have capacity to do." Christine stared into Erik's eyes, a love so radiant it made her very face glow. "Erik, my husband, my lover, father to those within my womb….I love you…now and forever more love you." Christine stretched as far as she might, kissing Erik's cheek.

Erik could not speak lest he detract from the beauty of her words. To know, to hear the voice he'd admired, the sentiment from the heart of his wife…after all this time…it was as if he could feel the last wound of the flesh of his heart healing into a whole.

Carefully, he slid his arms around Christine, lifting her gently into his arms. There had never been anything that he wouldn't have done for her to ensure her happiness. What he'd never expected was how truly happy, how truly loved she could make him feel. Everything he'd ever done for her, he'd done with no expectation of return, and yet, somehow this tender creature had come full circle from curious girl, to admiring adolescent, to enrapturing woman, and she'd enthralled him…mind…body…and soul. He could barely breathe, and when he did, he was certain he too could sense her in his exhale.

Erik pressed his lips against Christine's, softly whispering to her, "my love, my love, how my heart soars on wings of angels to hear such professions, and I my dear…..I love you."

Once more into his arms he lifted Christine going out the door into the hallway, still festooned with a carpet of rose petals. He moved quietly down the hall, humming into her ear the song he had written for her so long ago…it was soothing….soothing to them both.

XXXXX

Misty stood just inside the door to the room she'd prepared for them. She'd come to see if Monsieur Courtland still had intentions of breakfast, or if a more suitable lunch should be prepared. She'd been perplexed when he'd not come an hour before for surely he'd mentioned they would. Hearing nothing but muffled conversation, she would make no assumptions. She turned and ventured back down the long hallway, smiling at the rose petals that fluttered here and there. She doubted she would ever have opportunity to see a man more romantic, or set on pleasing a woman that Monsieur Courtland. Elizabeth was an angelic creature to be certain, and a most fortunate woman indeed to have such a doting husband.

Misty smiled as she descended the stairs. She'd see to it the other maids did not disturb them. When Monsieur Courtland came to retrieve her, or offer revision to his plans, she would see to sweeping up the petals. She'd not have the condescending tone of the eldest maid spoil the perfect act of romanticism ruined by her bitter conjectures.

XXXX

Erphan walked out of the mercantile and back to the carriage, climbing in where the driver and JP sat waiting.

"The carriages from Paris will not arrive until later this afternoon. The shopkeeper thought by afternoon tea that they would be nearing Chauesser." Erphan came to rest on the seat across. "Gentlemen, we've some decisions to make. We could go back to the winter house and tend to the yard, but then we'd be hardly presentable for dining in the City." They all nodded in agreement. "Taking in lunch would be agreeable, though we've hours until the carriages arrive, and one can stay only so long at a tavern after they've finished." He sighed. "I suppose we could have lunch, and then return to the mercantile making use of the smoking room."

JP cocked his head to the side, "but Erphan not one of us partakes of such things, how might we justify such actions?"

Erphan exhaled a bit irritated. "I would suppose you would have us sit in the tea area supping Earl Grey and nibbling on crumpets?" A mocking tone, and a bit of a sheepish grin on his face as he glanced at the carriage driver.

JP's eyes darted back and forth between them. "Yes most certainly you find folly in my reply, but it would be a far improved situation than sitting inside this carriage for hours with the pair of you!" He moved toward the door, unlatching it and pushing his way out, latching it behind him.

Erphan looked at the driver. "He's a wee bit sensitive is he not? Perhaps a pot of tea and scones would be most advantageous to his disposition! He's not even realized I jested, as the mercantile is not even open for guests on Sundays, but the doors remained open for the drivers of the carriages that were needed." The pair laughed.

JP walked away from the carriage and up the stairs, coming to rest on the rather generous bench outside the mercantile. He was never fond of teasing, and least of all when he was the object of it. He rubbed his hands together, trying to regain his composure.

The churches were letting out, and he could see the swarms of children trying to release their pent up anxiousness, running a bit of their parents. The rains had cleared and though the sun had yet to find its way through the clouds, the warmth was returning. He looked down at his boots for a long while. Erphan had drawn his ire, and though he was repentant for his actions, the thought of apology was one he could not readily swallow. He looked up as he heard a pair of footsteps on the walk leading up to the Mercantile.

"Good day to you sir!" John Paul called out to him, as he and Nicole walked arm and arm toward him. The doctor glanced toward the carriage, it was characteristically unmarked with crest or emblem.

"And to you sir," he extended his hand toward John Paul. He nodded toward Nicole, and she returned the same. "You are the new physician are you not?" JP inquired, looking back and forth between he and Nicole.

"I am as you say, new to Chauesser, though I have practiced a bit before coming here. You see my grandfather was once the great physician of this fair city." John Paul said, smiling in polite manner. "Do you know sir, have the carriages arrived from Paris?"

JP shook his head, "I'm quite afraid that they shan't arrive until afternoon tea." He smiled at the doctor and the young lady on his arm.

"I see," said John Paul. He glanced up at Nicole who was standing rather silently at his side. "Oh forgive my rudeness. Have you met my fiancé?"

Nicole blinked, a sudden blush rushing into her cheeks. The word…fiancé…it sounded like melted gold dripping from his lips. She nodded again, as the young man acknowledged her.

"I did not know that you'd brought a fiancé with you on your travels?" JP said, feeling as though the time spent at Courtland Manor had caused them to miss so very much indeed.

John Paul smiled, looking at Nicole who held onto his with an intent grasp. "No, I did not arrive in Chauesser with a betrothed. I had the good fortune of making the acquaintance of this fine woman several months ago, and we became engaged just yesterday."

"My congratulations to you both!" JP smiled nodding once again. An odd moment of silence fell among them.

"Sir, might I ask, do you know if the mercantile is open for receipt of carriages from other cities?" John Paul inquired. He felt very much like he knew of the young man's association, and thought it fortuitous, but he'd want to confirm his suspicions before he'd inquire further.

"Why yes, that is the only reason the door remains ajar this afternoon." JP smiled again, feeling a bit awkward as the doctor looked at the carriage and back at him.

"That is wonderful news. You see we've need to see the shopkeeper. I am looking for the location of Monsieur Courtland, and I believe that the shopkeeper knows how to reach his household." John Paul was at this point very certain that this indeed was one of Courtland's staff, but he'd wait for confirmation.

JP looked at him quizzically, remembering Erphan's admonitions. "Might I inquire as to why you seek to find Monsieur Courtland?"

John Paul knew in an instant. "You see, when last I had opportunity to visit with the man, he left behind several items that I should very much like to return to him…personally."

JP smiled extending his hand heartily to the doctor. "It is indeed a fortunate day for you then sir, for I am in Monsieur Courtland's employ as are the two others sitting in the carriage just there." JP pointed toward the carriage. "We've returned to Chauesser for the purposes of retrieving a visitor that is to arrive on the carriage this afternoon."

John Paul smiled, he had been correct. Now, if he were able to solicit an address, he would then make plans to deliver a message with this young man, and he and Nicole could pay a proper visit to return the items. As much as he longed to relieve Nicole's conscience, he was equally curious to discover how Monsieur Courtland had obtained the books in the first.

"How very excellent, perhaps you'd be so kind as to tell us how we might go about paying he and his wife a visit?" John Paul looked hopefully at the younger man.

"Well…perhaps it shan't be a problem…." JP began to mutter. They were never to speak of where Courtland Manor was in a particular sense. Vaguely it was well known that it was far south of Chauesser, but no more. "Would you please excuse me?" He nodded slightly just once toward the doctor, and Nicole. "I've need to converse with my…with…do pardon me." JP turned, making his way quickly toward the carriage.

"Whatever on earth could they have been talking about so ardently?" The carriage driver said to Erphan.

"Heaven knows only. He has not always been known for his ability to converse easily with those who are strange to him." Erphan no longer watched JP but rather the pair that stood as if awaiting his return. "Whatever could they have asked him that would require a reply?" Erphan sighed heavily as JP arrived at the side of the carriage.

John Paul and Nicole looked on while the young man climbed into the carriage. "Nicole, let us hope that whomever is inside that carriage finds our suggestion agreeable. I would very much like to have opportunity to discuss the books with the Monsieur." He turned, carefully tucking Nicole's hand over his forearm, walking over to the bench. "We shall have to wait my dear. It will not be long that your conscience will have to suffer, nor my curiosity burn. There must be good explanation for the coincidence, though it does seem rather odd."

They sat waiting and watching a long while as the carriage jostled this way and that. At the end JP emerged. He'd a look of frustration on his face that could not be denied. As he walked toward the doctor and Nicole, he tried to smile politely, though they could quite easily tell that he'd no desire to disappoint them, but had been given a directive contrary to what he would have wished.

JP stood before them, "I am to convey the greatest of thanks to you and your fiancé for the return of Monsieur Courtland's property. At present it would not be possible to have an audience with Monsieur Courtland as he has instructed that they receive no visitors…" JP thinking quickly as he'd already confessed that the reason for their trip to Chauesser that day was indeed to pick up a visitor. "I've been instructed that we would be most pleased to return the items you mentioned to Monsieur Courtland, and I give you my word that it would arrive in his hands as soon as we've returned." JP looked at the doctor, hoping this was a suitable alternative to delivery in person.

John Paul's disappointment was not easily concealed. "I'd rather hoped to have a word with the Monsieur myself," he said reflectively. "You see, I knew very little of my grandfather's life here in Chauesser. I am persuaded that the Monsieur might have known my grandfather, if only for a brief time before his death." John Paul sighed. He'd wished to have known what the books themselves contained, and now, for Nicole's sake, he might never know. "You see, my grandfather himself had books that were very nearly identical to those that are in that bag. Perhaps Monsieur Courtland would be kind enough to arrange a meeting when he and his wife return to Chauesser."

Nicole looked up at John Paul, she knew how very much he wanted to speak with the man about the books. It simply could not be a coincidence, nor could it be that they were not somehow connected. She came forward, handing the bag with the books to the young man. "The doctor's grandfather meant a great deal to him. To find someone who might have known him as a younger man, would mean the world to him. Please convey as much to Monsieur Courtland won't you? Oh, and do tell him that my mother is doing as well as can be expected, and that I think of his generous kindness often."

JP nodded. "I shall see to it dear lady." He glanced back and forth between the doctor and the young woman. "Might I share with him the news of your engagement?" He inquired, trying to leave the conversation on a more affable footing.

Nicole smiled at the young man. "You most certainly may."

JP turned with a smile, nodding toward the bag before he returned to the carriage and it pulled casually away and down the cobblestone.

John Paul turned to Nicole, leading her by the hand down the walkway. "It is for the best my dear. I've no doubt, he being a man of honor, will not receive such a return without a proper reply." He patted her hand on his arm. "There shall be time to inquire of the relation between the books of my grandfather's and that of his. At present you shall be able to rest in the knowledge that you've returned what burdened you my dear. Now we've much more to consider. My father once arrived, will have quite a little adjusting to manage." John Paul, paused, slowly moving from Nicole's side to stand in front of her. "My dearest Nicole," he said, taking up both of her hands, "I feel most compelled to tell you of my arrival at what will appear to most to be a hasty decision." He looked about, and spying a bench under a tree near the park, took her hand leading Nicole over to sit.

John Paul's affections were all so new to Nicole. Her emotions, as he led her, ranged from disbelief, to thankfulness, to utter bliss. She felt as if she were watching in on the life of another. With every step she reviewed over and over again, how they'd moved from utter strangers, to friends out of necessity, to a quasi family of sorts, to this…and she could not describe with words what this present circumstance was. For she'd nearly forgotten what it felt like to behold romantic love…so long it had been denied her.

As John Paul carefully seated her on the bench, taking her hands once more into his, she allowed herself to look at him, to really look at him. Not as the doctor that tended to her grandmother, not the doctor who cared for her mother, not the companion with whom she'd made a business arrangement, but as a man. The man who had asked her to be his bride. With all of the former mentions of his embodiment as doctor and friend, she could remain at a safe distance, keeping a harsh guard about her heart for they threatened it not. But as a man pledging to love and care for her until they were parted by death itself…she was vulnerable. She was even now in denial that such a love could, after all this time, find its way to her.

John Paul was not nervous, nor did his heart or mind waiver as his eyes met Nicole's. He smiled, a genuineness that would have disarmed the most cynical, radiating in his face.

"Nicole, I must first confess to you that when I came to Chauesser, the singular thought that occupied my mind was that of finding some way of making a way through what I'd set upon to be a most dreary year, far from all of the comforts and distractions of a cosmopolitan city such as Paris." He sighed. "My only solace was that I'd have time to sort through my grandfather's things at my leisure, and if it be fate, that I would find some way to improve the social condition of such a tiny hamlet." He laughed, "I'd rather expected Chauesser to be a bit medieval, barbaric in its manner and civility. The descriptions of letters from my grandfather, I was certain, were exaggerated, for no city so far from Paris could have culture and refinement." He smiled at Nicole, smoothing his hand over hers, the touch of a fiancé still foreign to him. "All this to tell you Nicole that I'd so many misconceptions about this City that I'd nearly spoiled all opportunity for myself before I'd even arrived."

Nicole smiled at John Paul. So much of what he'd said she'd already known from bits and pieces of dozens of conversations. She knew him to be a man of pointed brevity in all matters, but it seemed when emotion seized him, his tongue and verse became unbridled.

"Nicole, my misconceptions nearly led me to miss what opportunities lay before me. I'd no intentions of anything in regard to a future in Chauesser." He smiled at her, slowly leaning forward kissing her brow. "You see I'd no intentions of coming to care for the people of this City, but I have. I'd no intentions of finding such a small City preferable to a large one, but I have. I'd no intentions of becoming enamored with my grandfather's house, but I have seen him there, healing, helping…doing what he was born to do…if only in the shadows of my imagination…his house has become a part of me, as surely as if were one of my limbs. I'd no intentions of suiting anyone, nor finding anyone even slightly agreeable for anything more than an occasional dinner companion…but what I found was far more."

He glanced down at Nicole's hands. He marveled at their warmth and softness…their strength. "Nicole, I never expected that I would find a woman whom I could come to care for as deeply as I have you. It was nothing short of an utter surprise to my mind when my heart began to grow a strong affection for you. First I tried to dismiss it as admiration of the noblest kind. Then I tried to tell myself that it was our shared interest in the plight of those less fortunate in health that led me to feelings of respect for you. Then, as I watched with what care and happiness you did every task, even the most arduous of them….I began to realize the admiration bordered on jealousy. How could one making such sacrifices to her own life for the sake of another be happy in the affairs of everyday life? I admit it puzzled me, and I longed to learn from you, if not for my own benefit, then surely for the benefit of others whom I might have opportunity to council in my years of practice that lay ahead. I studied you. Your movements, your words, your manners, the way you ate, how you rested….how you prayed."

John Paul paused, such confessions did not come easily to him. "Nicole the more I watched, the more I observed, I came to understand that I was not jealous of you, but instead had found one who was everything that I was not; someone who had strength where I was weak. It confused me, perplexed me. One day, not long ago, it came to me why I struggled with it so…it was because I was feeling something that was entirely foreign to me. My mind had always ruled my life, every action deliberate and pointed toward a goal. What I'd never experienced in my life was a time when my heart would try to overcome, nay, subdue my mind, allowing a far more potent feeling to overtake me." That was but the first part of his confession. He sighed, running his hand along hers.

"I sat one night watching you long after you'd fallen asleep on the divan by the fire. It had been a particularly grueling day. Your mother had not done well, the morning at the tavern had been difficult with unruly travelers being rude and disconcerting. You'd returned to my office to find me knee-deep in boxes, and you'd patiently, and without complaint, helped me to tidy up so we could prepare dinner. You'd come home, helped bathe and read to your mother as she ate her dinner, putting her to bed early, soothing her until she fell asleep. You'd returned to your own dinner, barely able to pick at it before abandoning it entirely." John Paul's began to glaze as he walked back into the memory of that liberating night.

"When I asked what I might do for you, you said the words that I shall never forget my dear." He smiled at Nicole, reaching up to touch his hand lightly along her cheek. "You turned to me, a bit of confusion on your face, and said…" he paused.

"In all things I am to remember to have a grateful heart John Paul, for we've no reason to question why God puts us where He did. He will always find us in the place that is most advantageous for His higher purpose, and we choose to either be happy and grateful, or bitter and retracted. Either way we are spending our life, and if we've no faith that God is in control of the greater things and cares for our happiness and welfare more deeply than we do, we are far more than lost, we are lost for eternity. Our circumstances may not be our choosing, but our choice to find happiness in it, most certainly lays at our feet."

He paused again, sliding closer to Nicole, for the first time embracing her with his arms as he had already in his mind. "My dear Nicole, it was then that I realized the struggle my mind waged with my heart. My mind had rationalized of a life far from here. But, my heart had found what it was searching for, and it would not be dissuaded….it had found you, and refused most tenaciously to let go, for in you it had found completeness." He looked deeply into her eyes, bringing his lips to rest against hers most gently.

Nicole could not breathe. In all the words she'd ever read or heard uttered, these were by far the most glorious music to her ears. A tear escaped first her left eye, and then her right, rolling down her cheeks.

John Paul leaned away, looking curiously at Nicole. "I'd no intentions of causing you tears Nicole, I wished only for you to know how my heart had come to love you, to know of my affections…"

Nicole inhaled, dabbing at the corners of her eye. "I can assure you John, the tears you see are of relief, of disbelief, but more than those things combined, of thankfulness. I have never allowed myself to have hope that I would one day even find a suitable match. And here I sit now, with the most handsome, eligible, man in all of Chauesser, and he has conveyed such eloquent utterances to my heart…I feel the most blessed woman you can imagine." Matters of the heart, it was abundantly clear, vexed both of them.

"All the struggles and cares washed away now by your professions of love. God has led us both here, through strange and difficult paths. But we've been faithful on the path that He has called us, and now it seems He's seen fit to bless us….these tears are tears of joy…I've never shed any in the entirety of my life. I too have come to love you, in so many similar ways John Paul."

She blushed, "the feelings I long held for you now no longer need be suppressed, and I dare say it frightens me a bit." Nicole had never made such a confession, and truly a proper lady would not have done as much. But, in her heart she wanted John Paul to know that she was indeed enamored with him, not only for his mind, but for his body and soul.

John Paul smiled. He being a gentleman could do nothing more than kiss her all the more tenderly. Knowing in his heart now that his affections were returned, his mind began to release the choke-hold it had on his heart. She was a perfect match for him. Out of obedience of his promise to his grandfather, had been born the most wonderful gift a life had to offer. To find a mate with whom to share one's life was a great accomplishment. But, to find the one whom you were meant for…that was a true blessing.

XXXXX

Andre sat looking out at the late afternoon sky. Save the brief stop they'd made in Chauesser for several supplies, and to drop a post at the mercantile, they'd done little else but ride. His letter from lady Misty tucked safely in his pocket. He'd neither read it in front of Lady C, nor attempt to do so in the dark of the carriage. These things were best done when one had opportunity for complete privacy.

What fortune they'd had that Monsieur Courtland's staff had been at the mercantile awaiting a guest. Andre had been certain that Misty would have his letter by nightfall. He'd had to amend it to include the news he'd be away for several weeks with Lady C, and additional posts would be delayed, but she was not to worry.

He rubbed his chin, and found himself wondering just how far away Monsieur Courtland's Manor must be from any civilized city. He marveled at how shocked the man's staff had been when they learned from the carriage driver arriving from Paris, that Dickens had deceased, and plans were being made for a funeral. They'd scurried about, conversing with one another, going back and forth with the carriage driver before they'd taken their carriage and left in haste.

He glanced back at Lady C. How good this trip to Paris would be for her. Something in her had changed after Victoria's death. She was not one to revel in anyone's misfortune, and she had not. However, it seemed to him that there had been an odd release for her at the woman's passing, if however unfortunate it had been. For Andre to see her in a dress of such vibrant colors, a hat with a small plume, and in a carriage bound neither to nor from Chauesser was entirely out of character for her…and he smiled. She was ever a marvel to him, and had he selected a woman to admire since his mother's passing, he could have selected no finer a subject.

The carriage jostled on. Andre too leaned his head back closing his eyes. If he could neither read nor converse, he would dream. Dream of the house he might build on the lot in Chauesser, dream of the adventures they were certain to have on their travels to Paris, or dream of a life he might have with a certain woman…if ever that would come to pass.

XXXXX

Erphan and JP hopped down from the carriage surveying the lawn. Indeed the grasses at the winter house had grown long and unruly. They'd not have been able to wait a week more or they'd have been taking down grass the length of their knees. They removed the sickles from the store beneath the carriage.

The driver had already ventured into the house. It was their routine. He would go in, checking the latches and locks on all of the doors and windows. Then he would change from his driving clothes into something more suitable for lawn work.

He found his way into the sunroom overlooking the lawn. His eye caught upon something fluttering in the far corner of the lawn, not far from the gate to the carriage house. He squinted trying to see more accurately what he thought it to be. It looked to be a long wooden shaft, the height of a normal man, with something attached at the end that fluttered in the wind.

He moved swiftly down the back stairs, checking the last of the locks and latches before he went out doors, making quick work of the lawn. Whatever it was, it had not found its way there by accident. As he came closer to it, he could see that it was indeed a polished wooden pole, approximately two meters in height, and on the end was a silken scarf of the deepest purple. There was some strange symbol that he did not recognize embroidered in black at the center of it. He reached out to grasp hold of it, but it was embedded so deeply into the soil it felt as if were a tree being pulled from its roots. Just then Erphan and JP came about the corner of the house.

"What have you there?" JP called out to the driver as they walked toward him.

"I do not know, but whomever placed it, had intention that it might neither blow over in the wind, nor be easily removed. I dare say it is quite solidly driven into the ground, and I am unable to dislodge it."

Without a word Erphan, JP, and the driver began to work on lifting the pole from the ground. They worked on it for some time before it ground released it, revealing a javelin shaped tip, nearly a meter of which was buried. It had been thrust into the soil with great force, and as such, was meant to be there for a good long while.

The three stood looking at it curiously. After several minutes Erphan spoke. "We will put it under the carriage. Monsieur Courtland can decide what's to be done with it." Erphan looked up at the sky. "I think it best that we see to the lawn, so this day not be utterly useless."

He picked up one of the sickles. "I'll begin here, and the two of you can retrieve the rocking chair that Monsieur Courtland requested." The pair nodded and headed off toward the house. Erphan looked at the pole. It reminded him of something that royal knights had used once upon a time during practice with a pugilist. He'd no idea where it might have come from or what it might mean. What he did know was that it was on his master's property, and therefore belonged to his master. Monsieur Courtland would certainly know what best to do with such things.

Erphan carried the stick back to the carriage, sliding it easily beneath. He turned abruptly, having the distinct inclination that he was somehow being observed. Whatever or whomever it was he would stay on the alert. It was likely, just his imagination. Sickle in hand he began his work. The great blade slicing through the tall grasses easily. Still, he could not shake the feeling that somewhere in the distance perhaps, someone was watching.

XXXX

Christine smiled up into Erik's eyes, she'd never felt more relaxed, nor happier than she did then. Their bond was forging with each wonderful memory that they added to it, and today…had already been full of memories. She looked so forward to whatever Erik had planned next.

The would-be breakfast had turned into high-tea as the morning waned and afternoon arrived. Erik turned into the room, carrying Christine over to the large ornate Elizabethan chair she was so very fond of. Christine gasped, a sharp pain ran through her head. She grabbed at her temples, shrieking in pain. Erik nearly dropped her as he set her down, kneeling before her, a horror in his eyes. "Christine, Christine….." That was the last she heard before the room went black.


	210. Racing Hearts

**Chapter 210 Racing Hearts**

Dear Faithfuls:

Thank you for taking time out of your days to stay with the story. I've come to rather enjoy the longer chapters, and I hope that the twice a week updates have kept us on the same path. I wanted to take time to mention that anyone who is so inclined to pray, do so for one of our phamily members who lives in Australia. I've not heard from her, and I pray that the cyclone that has ravaged Australia has not caused her any loss or heartache.

Thank you to all of you again for reading, and being patient with me!

XXXXX

Christine was wandering in a forbidding fog. She was on a most curious path of rock, jagged and tumbled alike, pressed down into a deceivingly smooth surface. One wrong move was certain to produce pain of the most severe kind. The towering pines on either side obscured view of everything else, save what little she could perceive ahead. A cold wind howled about her, a chilled harsh, slivered moon, the only light. She knew she walked this path alone, utterly alone.

Though she was wary, she felt simultaneously compelled and drawn; her good conscience would have bid her turn and run. The further she traveled the thicker the fog grew until she could not see but an extended hand's length in front of her. She stopped abruptly, turning about this way and that for she felt she could no longer breathe. Swallowed whole by the surrounding miasma, an aura of mystery of the frightful kind filled what was left of the air.

A sudden inclination seized her that she must but swim through the fog until she rose to the top; for no other way out of the odious mist presented itself. Her arms and legs began to move about of their own volition. Indeed her thrashings propelled her through the masses of white come gray clouds, until she breached the surface in one great thrust of her feet.

Once above the clouds, she beheld the most elegant moon and stars, gracing a sky of the deepest blues of midnight. Here too there was a path. The trees had been replaced with long wooden spindles, so thin she could put her hands round them with little effort. She glanced forward. As far as the eye could see was a straight and seemingly infinite line of the same, each bedecked with silken cloth of the finest purple she'd ever seen. Christine saw herself walking the path, now inlaid with great stratums of opulent mother of pearl. It was smooth and inviting; deceptively mesmerizing and assuring, no hint of its odious treachery. She glanced from side to side, and just beyond the rows of beautiful spindles was a dark abyss on either side, threatening any who slip to fall into an uncertain but assured fate.

Christine oddly did not feel the ordinary fear; somehow knowing if she stayed the path that all would be well. The further she traveled, the more glorious the sight became. Something about the journey was hypnotizing. She began to perceive a glow, nay, a glorious light at the end of the path. The closer she grew, though still a great distance off, the warmer, and lighter she felt, until she realized she no longer walked of her own accord; she was floating. She winced, somewhere, she could hear a voice calling her. At first she tried to pay it no heed, and then it became far too strong, too pitiful to ignore.

"Christine….Christine…."

"Erik?" she felt herself turning on the path, running, sliding, and nearly slipping until the darkness turned into the familiar fog, she leapt into the thick of it as soon as she began to see the tops of the trees. She found herself falling, and falling, far further than she'd ever climbed, and then, as if from out of the sky, a pair of arms reached into the clouds, grasping her. Her chest felt as if it had caved in so great was the release of her breath. She felt as if she'd been ripped directly out of a womb of some kind, thrust back into the world she was a part of.

"Oh Erik!" Christine said piteously when she opened her eyes. A great sob wreaking her heart and mind. She grasped onto him with all her might, pulling herself as close to him as she could.

Erik kissed her forehead, rocking her back and forth in a comforting embrace; the strength of his arms imparted such safety. "Shh….Christine, shh…" His hand unconsciously traveling to her mid-section. The children were thrashing about so madly that he feared her flesh would tear from the movement. His eyes grew wide, all he could think of was laying her flat on the floor, loosening her garments, and propping her head.

Christine looked at Erik with such pleading eyes. She did not fear what she had seen, for that had been harmless enough. It was the unknown that it most assuredly represented, that terrified her. For the first time she'd been the only one in her vision, but perhaps had it not been interrupted…now she might never know.

As Erik laid her down gently, he began to tug at the ribbons at the sides of her dress. He removed his jacket, propping it beneath her head. He simply held her hand, and soothed her brow without a word until her breathing began to shallow, and the children began to calm. It was minutes only he was certain, but it felt like an eternity. All had been pleasantly devoid of visions since they'd arrived at Courtland Manor, now he feared it was but a momentary reprieve that had lulled them into a false sense of security.

"May I, may I, have a drink of water?" Christine said pleadingly.

Erik nodded and was on his feet and moved as if chased by a fire. Christine had barely time to inhale twice and he was once again at her side, assisting her to a sitting position so she might partake of his offering. After she'd drunk nearly half the glass, Erik moved it away from her lips, setting it at the side as he took her into his arms. He sat cradling her as he had so many times before. He wished to ask, but he'd learned of her, she would tell him as soon as her calm had returned to her.

Christine nestled her head into his chest, taking one of his hands into hers. "Erik….I fear that it was a vision…a glorious vision…but I've no idea what it meant. For I was alone in the dream, walking paths of stone and pearl, trees surrounding me, a chilly wind and foreboding moon….but the fog…I began to swim in the fog until I came to the top where the trees were no longer trees but fine polished wooden spindles."

She turned her head to look up into Erik's eyes. They were ever steady and reassuring. "Yet still there was no one in my dream but me, and rows and rows as far as the eye could see of the wooden spindles." She sighed. "It was such a curious vision…I was afraid but drawn, curious by reticent. What puzzles me most is why the two paths, why the fog, and the trees turning into spindles, their heads adorned with purple silken flags…"

Erik stiffened, a sudden shrill pain pounded in his head, his chest seizing in a gasp. "Christine…."

She turned again to look up into his eyes, the former calm now gone, replaced by what she was certain was fear. "Erik?"

He turned her about in his lap so that he could look at her. "You must tell me all that you saw, every detail, and when the dream was ending, what did you feel, what did you see?" He grasped both of her hands. It was possible that it was mere happenstance, but he'd come to trust that the visions had never been without purpose. He'd never told her of the beast, nor of any of her treachery. The javelins employed for waging revenge….and yet she described them with utter precision. His heart pounded. She'd have to describe every detail before he'd make his decisions about where or if they would have to flee.

There was a knock at the door. Erik called out, "not now, I beg of you some privacy." Erik knew full well it was likely Nadir. But until he'd understood Christine's vision, he'd not trouble his friend with the matter.

Another, more insistent knock led Erik to his feet. His ire had not been raised in a great long while, and he'd control it, but he'd not tolerate interruption when he'd begged not to be disturbed. He opened the door with such force, it nearly sucked the visitor inside. "What is it that cannot wait…" Erik said as he looked out at a terrified Erphan. "Has there been some problem that could not wait?"

"I've to inform you sir that Nadir did not make the journey from Paris today sir." Erphan stammered in reply.

"Did not make the journey? What know you of his delay?" Erik said, now walking out and closing the door behind him. "Has something happened to the man?" Erik's heart began to pound.

"No Monsieur, I believe him to be well. He'd sent this letter for you sir." Erphan handed the envelope to Erik. "The driver further wanted me to share with you that Dickens was found dead sir, the night before last I believe. His devotees have caused a stirring in Paris, and as Nadir has been appointed the official historian of the Opera Populaire sir, there may be the cause of his delay."

Erik gasped. A man so young as Dickens…gone…the world deprived of his genius far too soon… "Dickens gone….." he muttered to himself. He stared at the ground for a silent moment before he realized that Erphan still waited. "I'm sure…I'm sure…Nadir must be attending his services…." Erik's voice trailed off. He shook his head slightly. "Thank you Erphan, and forgive my hostility when first I greeted you."

"Not at all Monsieur." Erphan was slowly relaxing as Erik's tone improved.

"Is there anything else at all…did the deliveries arrive from Paris?" Erik inquired, his mind already retreating to Christine.

"Yes Monsieur, the deliveries arrived and are now being unloaded. We stopped at the winter house and gave the yard a proper grooming." Erphan said.

"Well then sir, you best see to finding yourself some supper. Perhaps later we might all enjoy some sherry…" Erik's hand was on the door leading back into his bedchamber, he could sense that Erphan had yet something more to say. "Whatever is it Erphan?"

Erphan walked back several paces and retrieved what he had leaned against the frame of the tall window that ran nearly from ceiling to floor. He turned as he spoke. "Whilst we were grooming the yard, we found this lodged in the ground just beyond the…." Erphan was yet again afraid. Not because he felt threatened by the Monsieur, but because, for the first time he could recall, he saw fear in Monsieur Courtland's eyes. He stammered, "it took two of us to remove it from the ground sir, and we'd not known what to do with it, or from where it had come. I felt it most prudent that I bring it to you sir."

Erik's face had gone white, his breathing rapid and shallow. He flipped the letter from Nadir nervously in his hand. Perhaps he'd not been detained by the funeral at all….perhaps it was something far worse… Erik looked at the shaft of the javelin, it was indeed long and pointed, the knot of fabric tied tightly at the top as a flag. He'd seen some like them countless times….though he tried to forget every one he'd seen. He inhaled, looking down at Erphan he began a rapid succession of questions; blunt and concise.

At the end of the one-sided discourse, Erik spoke most frankly to Erphan. "Young man, we must make haste. I've no want for you to tell anyone more that what is necessary. When the full of darkness has fallen, you are to ready the carriage. Make certain it is comfortable, and several pistols placed beneath the seats. Then make my stallion ready. Be certain he has been well watered and fed, and a small allotment of additional food and water readied for him." He looked at Erphan most seriously. "You and JP shall wander the woods along the perimeter of the property, making note of stampled ground, broken tree branches, and the like. When this is finished you are to report back to me for further instruction."

Erphan nodded. "It shall be done sir." He'd ask no questions.

"Erphan, this night might very well be a long one. Do see to finding a good meal and some rest. We will ride after midnight sir." With that announcement, Erik took one more look at the pole before he took it into his hands. He simply must show Christine, though he'd little doubt that there was a mistake in her vision.

XXXXX

Pytor crept back beneath the grain bin door. His brow sweaty, his heart racing. Had it been only Monsieur Courtland's staff, that would have been one matter. That would not have frightened him so, as he'd anticipated this complication. What terrified him so that his chest felt tight and heavy, was watching as the most familiar of the man's staff had carried the rather large pole stowing it beneath the carriage. It was that sight that sent him to a hasty retreat. His heart pounding viciously below his flesh.

He'd never seen one, but knew well. The pole represented all that he feared most in the world. It was a promise of the most treacherous kind. It meant he had been found. The pole was indeed a javelin, harmless alone. It was its combination with the purple silk that gave it ability to send shrill terror into the hearts of those who knew what it was. Pytor had heard stories of it, and in all his life had hoped never to have seen it firsthand.

The account was given of a man who crossed the Sultana. Though he'd thought to have found his way to the farthest end of the earth, far beyond her grasp, his belief had been dreadful folly. He'd gone missing one evening and been found on the eve of the next. A pole run through him, driven to the depth of his chest, all but a half-meter remained exposed, the flag fluttering in severe warning. Written in the man's own blood below him, was the script that had turned rumor to legend. "**"Mors ultima linea rerum est" (Death is everything's final limit)**".

Pyotr sat beneath in the dark, simply trying to breathe. He'd no hope now of leaving until the dark of night, if that were even possible. His lone horse and wagon were sure to be gone, or would be an elegant little trap if he'd be foolish enough to try to return to it. The best he dare hope for was to be able to escape with his life.

Poor Sebastian. His fate was most certainly now sealed. The longer he sat contemplating, the more nauseated he became. The pain in thinking of what may have been had they left when he'd had the first inclination to do so, perhaps now his situation would be far different.

He closed his eyes leaning back, the pain in his chest growing ever stronger. He inhaled heavily, attempting to exhale. He felt as if the room was closing in around him, though he was the only one in the space. He could hear the sound of the sickles, thrashing the long grasses. He needed to calm his nerves lest he lose consciousness. His hand rose to his chest, a dull aching pain had begun…radiating now to his arms. He tried to swallow, to shake himself from this feeling, but he could not. He tried to inhale, but it made his chest all the more tight. He leaned forward trying to breath….

XXXXXX

Meg and Raoul strolled back up the path to the house. The rain had subsided long enough that they'd enjoyed their tea in the gazebo in the center of the small flower garden. They so enjoyed their time in that place. Though Plum House was considerably smaller than his house near Paris, it did still have an air about it that was reminiscent of something his mother would have enjoyed. The several marble sculptures of water sprites graced the ivy-clad center, giving it a feeling of an intimate cove of nature. In the middle was a smallish structure of five marble pillars, a parquet floor, and a space for several small table and chairs, or as was so oft the case, a table of size sufficient to seat eight people most comfortably. Today, the service staff had set the larger table with a rather elaborate array of flowers, perhaps as a congratulatory gesture on their newly engaged status. Madeline had taken care to see that they weren't disturbed, and but a brief visit by Raoul's father, they had largely been at their leisure for three hours.

Raoul had been reading from books of great poets such as Robert Burns and Sir Walter Scott. Meg favored such poets as exemplary flatterers, though in life they were hopeless flirts and ruthless cads. Raoul had most eloquently read 'Red, Red Rose' penned by Burns. Even as they now walked, Burns creative verse, delivered in Raoul's velvet voice, resonated in her mind.

"O my Luve's like a red, red rose That's newly sprung in June; O my Luve's like the melodie That's sweetly played in tune. As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I; And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry: Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi' the sun; I will luve thee still, my dear, While the sands o' life shall run. And fare thee weel, my only Luve, And fare thee weel awhile! And I will come again, my Luve, Tho' it ware ten thousand mile."

Save for the crunch of the gravel beneath their shoes, and the chirping of birds, the out-of-doors had been idyllic and placid. They walked silently now, hand in hand, Meg's head resting comfortably on Raoul's shoulder. The carriage would soon be ready, along with a number of items they'd be returning to DeChagny Manor as long as they'd be venturing passed on their way to Paris. Their departure had been delayed by all manner of things. But it was to their greatest advantage as their arrival now would be much under the cover of darkness, and therefore apparent to far fewer a curious eye.

Meg so longed to see her mother so that she might also share in the joy that had most recently come to them. It had been a pleasant afternoon indeed. In recent weeks, Meg found herself worrying less and less about the past goings on coming back to haunt and claim their present happiness. Raoul was content, they were betrothed, his father approved, she'd come into a knowledge and grace suitable to his pleasing. All seemed headed in a most favorable direction.

Meg's thoughts wandered hopelessly to Christine and Erik. Though she knew very well it were so, she prayed that Christine was enjoying a parallel happiness. She would think long and hard on how she would convey appropriate sentiment in addressing the most delicate news of their engagement in a letter to her most beloved friend. Such verse must be employed, so as to soften the announcement lest it smack of boasting. Though Christine would rejoice in her love found at last, there was part of her that yet hesitated. For it was a convolution of what might have otherwise been just a year previous. Oh but a year had changed both women and circumstance, thus proving one could not so hope to perceive the truth so far in advance. A marriage secured a woman's future to be certain, and Christine would find pleasure in that fact. Whatever terms Christine must come to in her own mind in this regard would have to be hers alone. Meg's happiness would be paramount in Christine's heart and Meg knew full well this would be her final sentiment should she ask her directly for her opinion.

"My dear," Raoul said, lifting Meg's hand as they arrived at the veranda leading into the house. "I love you Meg," he leaned down placing a tender kiss on the tip of her nose, his index finger running along her jaw, lifting it that he might look into her eye. "Burns would indeed have been inspired had you been his paramour my love, and oh how happy a man am I that you are but mine."

Meg's smile joining Raoul's as he slid his hand behind her back drawing her to him. A kiss, a proper kiss shared between them. No longer would there be hesitation or reservation in their embrace, for once betrothed, a discrete display of affection was oft expected. A gentle mist rolled in across the lawn, a hint that the rains would soon be returning. Love had blossomed in this place, a bloom in full beauty now for the world to see.

When the time came for their engagement to be announced in Paris, they would be ready to reply. They'd discussed every possible question and reasonable response likely to be needed. They were a united front, prepared, and ready to face the challenge ahead. Though most would be placating and pleasant, there would be the variant disdainful detractor that would subject them to unmerited derision. And yet again, perhaps nary a word would be said in their presence. But if it were, they were ready.

XXXXXXX

There was a quiet rap on the top of the carriage. Andre blinked as he woke, realizing that the sky was still gray, and he'd no inclination to the length of his sleep. Surely the carriage would be stopping, most likely so that the horses may rest and feed. He inhaled, a slight yawn, and a stretch, his long legs feeling a bit stiff, even though there was more than ample room to have rested in comfort. He glanced out the window. All that he could see were lines of trees on either side of the carriage. He knew they must be coming into a hamlet, for on the sides of the road was evidence of recent grooming. He inhaled once more before he looked across the carriage at Lady C. In the quiet, he assumed she still slept. He smiled as he realized she was awake, staring out the carriage window, a bit of pleasure on her face.

She did not need to return his glance, she sensed his stirrings. "I'd nearly forgotten how pleasant a journey this was, though I dare say some things have changed considerably since last I passed this way." She sighed, rubbing her hand slightly on the window, clearing from it the vapor of her breath. "My mother had several friends we visited not far from where we are now." She smiled, looking over at Andre, "you'd certainly have thought that being this close to Paris we'd have ventured in, but we did not, save when I was a girl too young to remember such things with any clarity." She sighed, stretching slightly herself.

Andre inquired, "how far have we yet to travel?" He resettled himself, straightening his jacket, smoothing down lapel.

"We've but several more hours beyond here if my memory does serve me, but I am certain the carriage driver would be more than able to oblige once we've stopped. I do so desire to stretch my legs a bit."

No sooner had she uttered the words than there was a break in the trees. They now found themselves descending upon a tidy collection of buildings, divided by lamppost and cobblestone paths. It looked like a quaint village so oft painted dabbled by painters working at their craft in the large squares. It was a small town; neither the likes of Paris or Chauesser to be sure. Yet there was something homey and inviting about it. A hot cup of tea and a suitable supper were most certain to be found somewhere in the midst of the city. The carriage meandered down the dirt turned cobblestone path leading into the heart of it. The mist now darkening a bit as the sun fell beyond the clouds. A rest, dinner, and they'd be on their way again. Their next stop would be Paris itself.

XXXXXXX

Lucien startled when he heard the knock on his door. He'd been expecting her, that was true, but after he'd settled all manners of dinner on the stove, and lit the candles on the table, he'd nestled into his chair with a book. He'd been doing a bit of research on the props that were to be made for the premier production of the Opera House. Many had already been done, but he'd wanted to be certain that every period detail had been carefully attended to. There were likely to be guests at the production who were if not expert, then decidedly aficionados of that period of history, and he'd have no part in causing undue embarrassment to the production by blatant inaccuracy.

He laid the book on his side table and walked, a bit lighter on his feet, to the door. Opening he smiled, a honeyed greeting rolling smoothly from his tongue, "come in dear lady, do come in…"

XXXXXX

Sebastian sat quietly on the singular piece of furnishing in his cell. The light from the window was fading and soon it would be even too dark to read. He'd been penning a letter to his family, though he did not know if it would ever get to them. If they had been contacted by Pyotr, and all gone according to plan, they'd be long gone. But if not, he'd wished to convey what was likely to be his last thoughts for a number of years until his time was due. He sighed. Given his age, and the notorious treatment of those held in the prisons of Paris, he rather doubted that he was ever to see them again in this world. Oh how he hoped that Pyotr had been able to carry on, and that even now that he might be enjoying a bit of wine and a good meal.

Sebastian looked up as there was a bit of skirmish at the end of the long row of cells. He heard both angry words, and a final reticent confirmation of a change in orders. The guards had been removed, and several prisoners were now being taken in shackles from their cells. Then all went silent.

Sebastian's breath caught as he realized with their removal he was now the only person in that entire block of cells. He listened intently in the silence. Then, as if from his imagination, a small clattering of keys, nay chains, or some manner of metal on metal grew in the distance. There was the sound of heavy foot on the stairs leading down from the upper levels. His heart pounded as the sound grew and grew until a form appeared from the shadow. It did not speak but sat with a loud thunk on a stool it produced from the corner.

Sebastian could not tell, but he thought he could see several large objects lay on the floor next to the massive man who now sat leaning against the wall. The man uttered not a word, but took out a long cigar and went to the lone torch that burned at the end of the row, barely stretching to light it, so great was his height. Sebastian could see more fully the man's silhouette, and the sheer size gave good reason for the fear he felt creeping up his spine.

Sebastian coughed, causing the man to turn abruptly, though he uttered not a word as he rested once more on the stool. It was there, in that faint light of the glow from a kindled cigar that Sebastian saw what nearly caused him to faint. A distinctive plume of purple rising out of the pocket of the man's jacket. Sebastian sat back down, so great a fear seized him he thought he'd be sick. There was only one explanation for this sudden change of guard, the removal of all prisoners. Witnesses were far to costly a price to pay. It did not bode well for him, nor he dared say, anyone whom he'd ever loved.

The guard sat puffing on his cigar. He rather enjoyed this work. Seldom did he ever have to employ the weapons he carried with him, for his primary objective was to instill fear, of the gravest kind. He did so….with an unsettling ease…and sadistic pleasure. His only directive was to sit there three days and three nights for his next order. To this point all he need do was be present, and make certain that the purple scarf was visible at all times. Other than that he could do as he pleased. Read, write, eat, sleep. It was a simple task, far less onerous than the one that had been assigned his traveling companion. He was even now on the hunt for the other man who'd swindled money and property from her. His orders were to deprive the man of everything he had, up to, and including his life if he could not produce for him what he sought. He leaned back closing his eyes. Three days of peace and quiet, it would indeed be most simple to swallow.

XXXXXX

Nicole and John Paul arrived at her flat after having spent a most pleasant afternoon sitting in the park. They'd nearly decided on the details for the wedding. A small affair, on a Sunday evening after the tavern closed. They'd have the most privacy there, and Nicole was certain that the innkeeper would be more than willing to oblige. They'd no reason to delay more than several weeks, but they'd reserve final decision to after they'd told his father.

There would be no honeymoon, nor large celebration of any sort. A time would soon come when they'd have all the privacy in the world. For now, they'd only want to have every reason not to be separated, and to remove the angst they'd both been feeling. They knew they desired to be married, and if they did not delay, they could indeed provide a bit of pleasure for Nicole's mother. She would take great comfort in the knowledge that she was not leaving Nicole alone.

They walked the stairs up to the door, the discussion changing to what they might enjoy for dinner that evening. Once at the door they were first greeted by a curious smell. And then by a most curious sound.

Nicole turned to look at John Paul, then back toward the door. "Mother?" she said as she pushed it open. She gasped. The table set with her grandmother's finest china, and her great grandmother's finest tablecloth made in Scotland at the turn of the century. It was the palest of peach linen in the finest quality. It had been her great-grandmother's wedding present. A bottle of wine, she knew her mother had been saving for a special occasion sat on the table. What gave her the greatest pause was that the table had been set for eight. She turned and looked at John Paul, and his expression was as quizzical as her own.

He slid his hand into hers, kissing her brow. He leaned whispering into her ear. "We shan't know what it is until we go in Nicole." He put his hand reassuringly on the small of her back, pushing the door fully open. It was then that they saw what manner all of this had risen from. There in the front of the flat near the fire stood a collection of people, all turning to smile at them.

Nicole's mother's face held more color that night than it had in months. There was Katherine, a man most likely her fiancé, her father, the pastor of the church, and beyond them, a man Nicole had never beheld before.

"Father?" John Paul said in a nearly whispered breath over Nicole's shoulder. He did not let go of her hand but moved forward. The man at the back of the group moving forward to embrace John Paul.

"What wonderful friends you have made in this City my son!" He said to him, hugging him tightly. He leaned away, looking at Nicole, and then back at John Paul. "And this is she…the one that you mentioned in your last letter?"

John Paul blushed slightly, nodding his head. "Father, may I present Nicole…"

His father did not wait for the finish of this most proper introduction. He moved forward, embracing Nicole. "My dear, my son spoke of you so oft in his letters, and I can see why he has such high opinion of you my dear, you are a beautiful creature."

Nicole blushed heavily as she nodded in acknowledgement. "You son is a most wonderful man sir, I can see where he has come by his good looks." Nicole was unaccustomed to giving or receiving such flattery. She'd once read the words in a story, and it seemed to roll out unconsciously. She'd not intended to seem clever, though it did cause the group to laugh.

Soon the room was abuzz with all manner of conversation. Introductions seemingly evaporating as the group found themselves conversing as if they'd all known one another for a great many years.

Nicole followed Katherine into the kitchen where she was tending to something on the stove.

"Katherine, however was this planned?" She leaned forward giving her dear friend a gentle yet excited embrace.

Katherine began stirring as she spoke. "You see our dear pastor had been in Paris visiting relatives when he received word just this morning that one of his parishioners had taken quite ill. Since he'd vowed to be with her for last rites, he had need to change his departure. He'd planned to return on Monday's carriage. The arrangements it seems placed John Paul's father and the pastor in the same carriage to travel to Chauesser on Monday. The carriage driver, knowing full-well that he could not make the round trip twice in one day, contacted his father to see if he might be so inclined to travel a day earlier or delay his arrival yet another week. Since he'd been readied in advance, he was certainly able to leave on a moment's notice. And so the pair arrived just an hour passed the time the other deliveries from Paris left Chauesser. During their ride it seems, our pastor and John Paul's father had opportunity to become acquainted. One thing led to another, and when they arrived, my father was waiting at the mercantile to retrieve the pastor and take him straightaway to dinner as the woman had since taken a turn for the better, and no longer needed his immediate presence. Well to his surprise, he found himself introduced to the John Paul's father who would be finishing the apprenticeship of the young man at the undertaker's offices. Your mother had wandered over to the tavern in hopes of securing some sort of meal for this evening, feeling it was a most special occasion and she'd not want you to have to worry for supper. Nicole, as things turned, your mother told John Paul's father of your engagement, and his father was most amiable about it, as he'd rather imagined that would be the contents of his next letter from his son."

Nicole looked over her shoulder, John Paul was smiling at her from across the room. He sat next to his father, and on his other side was her mother. Nicole returned his gaze thoughtfully.

"You see, before anyone had intended it, the dinner for three grew to a party, and since the tavern had been torn apart for a good cleaning, your mother invited us to move the meal here. So here we are all here my dearest friend, to celebrate your engagement!"

Nicole embraced Katherine once more. "My dearest Katherine, how can I ever thank you for your kindness. You have been a most trusted and faithful friend during all of this. I hope that you might find what I am about to ask of you to be impertinent."

Katherine placed the lid on the pot, moving on to the next, lifting its cover and stirring. "Nicole, I think I know of what you speak," she glanced up from the steaming pot. "I know of your mother's health, and I know further of your wishes for her happiness. There is no reason you should feel you must delay a wedding so as not to interfere with mine. Time does not permit you such luxury my dear, and I shan't have you feeling the least bit badly." She set down the spoon, returning the cover to the pot. She turned to Nicole. "My dear there is little else that matters but happiness in this life. It is only those who are too proud to embrace life in all of its messy glory that deprive themselves of what happiness they might have found. We are not so formal in our fair City that we must wait for all matters of proper society. Those who know and care for you most will understand."

Nicole exhaled, what a wonderful friend Katherine was indeed. "My dear friend…" Nicole began.

Katherine interrupted her. "Nicole, I do believe that John Paul is staring a whole right through us. You must look."

Nicole turned, glancing at John Paul. He was smiling at her, he nodded his head just once in silence, just as he so oft did when her mother was dozing and he needed to converse with her. He wanted her to move to the platform just outside the door leading into their flat. Without a word, she released Katherine's hand, and moved quietly toward the door.

John Paul politely excused himself as the conversation between the eldest two men in the room grew into raucous laughter. Some story about travels between Paris had intrigued them.

Nicole's mother sat listening intently, pretending not to notice that the pair were slipping outside the door.

Once the door was closed behind them, John Paul took Nicole into his arms. The most ardent kiss he'd ever given her, and eagerness in his very embrace. He pulled himself reluctantly away from their kiss. He smoothed his hand over her forehead, placing a delicate kiss upon it. He looked down into her eyes. "Nicole, it is but a wonder that our families have found one another in such a place, seemingly joyous at our impending union."

Nicole's heart was beating so fast…everything was transpiring so rapidly.

"Nicole, if it were in our ability to have the glorious wedding that you most decidedly deserve, I would will it to be so. We've discussed how all we truly wished for was our closest family and friends to be with us." His hands were trembling as he took hers into his.

Nicole looked up into his eyes, he had indeed been thinking what she herself had been thinking.

"Nicole, have you the dress of your grandmother's that you spoke of?" His breath was a bit shallow now.

Nicole nodded, pressing her head against his chest. "Yes, it is in the wardrobe."

"Then Nicole, with those we care for most already in this room, and a decision not to wait beyond several weeks more what say you that we…."

Nicole smiled, wrapping her arms about John Paul tightly. "Yes John Paul, I would so very much love to become yet before the sun sets fully….your wife."

John Paul lifted Nicole into his arms, embracing her so securely he nearly drove the air from her lungs. "Then let it be so." John Paul looked down, a bit of hesitation in his voice. "Nicole, I've no want for you to worry for the validity of my affection for you….for I love you most ardently…..I've no inclination as to when we might share a wedding bed Nicole, and that is a matter for which I am more than willing to wait."

Nicole blushed profusely. A wedding bed….two weeks ago she'd not even thought a marriage was in her near future. Tonight, in that small hallway they were discussing wedding beds. "John Paul I…"

The door opened. It was Katherine. "Do excuse me, I've left the most important part of our dinner at the tavern. I shan't be more than a half-hour. I've already set the salad course if you should so desire to start before I return." Katherine did not wait for a reply but bounded down the stairs and was gone.

John Paul turned to Nicole once more. "Let us wait until after the meal, and then at its conclusion I shall take the pastor aside, you may change into your gown. Just as they surprised us with a dinner, so we might we surprise them with a wedding!"

Nicole was nodding her head in agreement. She inhaled, the happiest a woman could ever be. A wedding, no matter how short the preparation would be a most glorious occasion as long as all those they loved were with them.

The pair joined hands and walked back into the flat. Everyone would join at the table for the salad course. Nicole knew Katherine was not fond of this course, and she shan't mind missing it. The wine was poured, grace was offered. And several toasts were made before they began.

Katherine was running as fast as her feet could carry her. It was her fortune that having helped Nicole on several occasions, she knew of the location of John Paul's keys. She'd make quick work of setting a bed from linens she'd retrieve from the inn. Several pedestal candles, a bottle of champagne, and a fire set for kindling would be waiting. She'd find some other excuse to leave before they, lighting candles and the like for their arrival. She tingled from the tip of her head to her toes. A wedding….and happiness for her dear, dear, friend. What more could she ask for. Next year at this time, if all went according to the dreams she'd been musing, they might both very well be with child…and now, she was certain, they'd be spending their lives together.


	211. Parallels of Happiness

Chapter 211 Parallels of Happiness 

Dear Faithfuls:

Yet one more week, perhaps two at the longest, and I will be able to devote more time to responding to your continuing reviews. You have been more than faithful, and thus so more than deserving of the title "Phamily members!"

I do so hope you enjoy this chapter, and can embrace with what joy and sorrow life's road can take us. It has often been a wonder to me that bitter sadness and utter happiness can exist just doors away from each other. We all walk our own roads in this life, (ever heard of 'Boulevard of Broken Dreams'? if so you will understand the reference, I am listening to it right now!). Our encounters with others add or detract from our happiness. While we all experience pain and joy, we do so at different times, and in different ways. Fear controls us, happiness propels us, love swallows us, and dreams enrapture us. It is in this common ground that we are all connected. Not that we experience everything at the same time, but in the mere fact that we were all born to experience life, and life to its fullest. So no matter where life finds you right now, embrace it, and find what joy it has to reveal to you. For my journey has brought me to all of you, and in our Phamily I have taken great comfort and pleasure. – Angel

Erik leaned the long spindle against the wall just outside the room. He paused, placing both his hands above his head, leaning heavily on the door; he sighed. No easy method existed for the task that lay ahead of him. Christine's vision, the appearance of the spindle on his property, the letter from Nadir….it had all but shattered the temporal pleasantness they'd been lingering in. He found himself wondering when or if their life would quiet into a calm routine; he so prayed to give Christine the gift of peace in which to nurture and deliver their children.

Erik glanced down at the letter he'd tucked inside the band about his waist. Before he'd return to Christine, he'd read Nadir's letter. He'd long tried to forget with what cryptic words he and Nadir would converse when they'd something of a most serious nature to discuss, lest anyone should find their communiqué and question it. He'd be looking for certain words, and if the letter was devoid of them….raven…..deep water….final meal… tenacity….decay….trees of fruit, then Erik would know that the beast had not presented herself anywhere in Nadir's vicinity. Erik slid his finger beneath the seal, opening the pages, he began to read in the dim light of the hallway.

"My dearest friend,

I regret to tell you that I must delay my journey several weeks. A most unfortunate happening in Paris has left need for me to remain in the City for at least that length of time.

By the time you have chance to read this, you will no doubt have discovered the sad news to which I refer. Dickens passing is indeed a sad one, as the man had so much life left in him. Though a physician has examined him thoroughly, no precise cause for his death has been offered; at least to the general public. No doubt I shall be on hand for his services, which are set to be held on June 14.

Now lest you wonder of my delay beyond that time, I am compelled to inform you that I've been commissioned by his most faithful devotee to develop a suitable tribute to the author. As fate would have it, all will be on display at the Opera Populaire as DeChagny has made provision for a tribute to literary genius in a wing of the refurbished structure.

It is his hope that this will greatly add to the attraction of the reopening. To this end I am busily researching and penning documents I can only hope will be worthy of the man. His most faithful devotee? The man who published his works. He has most graciously bestowed upon the Opera House, a complete set of Dickens published works; it was the second of each volume printed. He has kept, for sentimental if not pecuniary reasons, the first of each novel that was printed. His intent was that his gift be part of the tribute to the author.

I do beg of you to forgive me, but know full well this letter will be received with full understanding. I shall make whatever arrangements I am able to visit as soon as this work permits. I so look forward to visiting with you and your wife. I trust that all is well with you.

Nadir

Erik exhaled silently. There was no air of concern in Nadir's note, save what he felt about Dickens' passing; it was a good sign indeed. He folded the letter and placed it in his pocket. Nadir at present was safe. He need now worry only for the safety of the one he'd vowed to protect. His own life, was of little consequence, though he'd gamble with it more tenaciously, for now there was someone who depended on him. He reached for the door handle, a loud crack of thunder rattled the windows, and then the heavy rains began to fall. He felt all the more compelled to hide his treasures…for he knew the beast's methods. She would strike when it was least favorable for those that she hunted…and a storm was perfect for hunting; it concealed the screams…she'd told him as much herself.

The door flew open and Christine nearly leapt into Erik's arms. "Oh Erik, you must go to him…see if he is…he is…it's Erphan….the lightening…they were carrying in the rocking chair and…" she began to sob, grabbing onto the sides of his shirt.

Erik's eyes grew wide. He rushed to the window, attempting to see through the torrents of rain that were falling from the sky in sheets. A huddled mass was on the ground as the lightening flashed illuminating the sky in a surreal glow. There on the ground was Erphan, sprawled out as if struck dead.

Erik's heart began to pound. He turned to Christine, throwing a blanket about her shoulders, quickly escorting her away from the window. He grabbed her shoes and a pillow as he hurried her out of the room with nary a word. He was moving so quickly that it frightened her.

"Erik?" she said through her strained tears.

He spoke softly as he led her. "Christine, do you remember the place that I showed you? The place you were to hide if you were afraid?" He waited until she nodded. "I do not have time to explain, but I must ask you to trust me my love. I am taking you there and asking that you not leave that place until I retrieve you, not even at anyone's bidding, no matter what is said to you…is that understood?"

Christine nodded, fear beginning to seize her anew.

Erik stutter-stepped, coming to a halt in front of the door. He inhaled, he'd no time to explain, but he had to know. "Christine, was this what you saw in your dream?" Erik held the scarf-adorned javelin out in front of him.

Christine's eyes grew wide with fear; her lips began to tremble.

Erik did not wait for her verbal reply; her expression told him all that he needed to know. "My dear it was indeed a vision, and though I long to withhold nothing from you lest it cause you danger; let me simply tell you that the sight of such things has brought even the greatest of men to their knees. In due time I shall explain, but I must now beg of you your unwavering obedience." He looked into Christine's eyes with seriousness, and took her by the hand, pulling her close to him, leading her down the hallway.

He'd been swift in his movement, they were now at the panel beneath the stairs. He embraced Christine, kissing her with tenderness, rubbing his hand along her stomach. He knew he must tell her something lest she drive herself mad with worry. "

"My love, there are a great many dangers out in this world…and I shall do my best to protect you from all of them. I must tell you that the javelin is a warning of the most abhorrent kind. When this present danger has passed, there is much I will share with you…of my past life…but for now, know that I love you…will always love you." He ran his hand behind her neck, massaging it as he kissed her forehead. He wrapped the blanket around her, tucking her in through the secret door. "Christine, do not forget the passage out should you need it. You do remember where it leads do you not?"

Christine shook her head again, hoping she'd not have to make use of such. Her heart pounded. It was all moving so fast, and it perplexed her that Erphan being struck by lightening had caused this reaction in Erik, but she would obey without question.

Erik kissed her once more, and closed the door behind her. He held his hand on it, saying the prayer, "God guard us, one and all; keeping safe that we might live to embrace tomorrow as it be your will."

His eyes, now open, were filled with tears as he ran down the stairs. He was at once in the closet by the parlor, fitting a sword into his belt, a gun on his shoulder. He donned his cape in a flourish and he bounded down the hall. The lightening flashed so bright it looked like the height of noon. The thunderous crashes rung in his ears as the front door flung wide open. In came three of his staff carrying Erphan.

Erik rushed to him. He felt of his neck, his heart still beat but he did not wake. "Take him into the parlor, and see to sending the carriage to retrieve the doctor. You," he pointed to Misty, "you see to making up a bed for him, blankets, pillows and the like." All the while he spoke, he was examining Erphan. There was no evidence of poison dart, nor wound of any kind though his cheek and forehead were a deep red. His pallor and quivering of his eyes beneath is lids caused Erik great concern. Erik sighed. Perhaps it had been lightening that had leveled Erphan to the ground. But, with the javelin at the winter house, Christine's vision, and a gut feeling that something was amiss, he'd not be taking any chances.

Erik glanced around the house, it rattled and shook as the worst of the storm clouds darkened the sky as if it were midnight. The cloud seemed to settle over the house, all manner of trees and shrubbery thrashing about outside the windows. He looked at the men who stood now awaiting orders. He was the master of the house, his wish their command. He knew he could not risk taking the horse out, for surely the beast would never allow for a mount to ride in such weather. His breathing increased, his needs were so far divided. His need to protect them was paramount. He glanced about once more as a large thunderous crash struck outside, splitting one of the mature trees clean through the middle. Near the sea the storms were oft much more violent, but he'd not seen the likes of such a storm in a great while.

He looked at his staff as they recollected, save for Misty, she stayed with Erphan. "You sir, and you sir," he pointed at two of the men. "Go to every room, batten down the windows lest we have any glass flying about."

The two men nodded and disappeared. One up the stairs to the second level, the other to the parlor where Erphan was now resting.

"You sir, you are to go with JP, to the stables. Secure the doors, and tighten the windows. We must abandon thought of going to retrieve the doctor until the worst has passed." He paused, "do take care to tie securely the young horse, we'll not want a leg broken when all of this has ended." He could only imagine the fear that would be coursing through the animal now.

The last maid standing before Erik was the eldest, and he dared say the most steady. She'd worked a great many years at Courtland Manor, and no doubt had seen many a storm the likes of this one. She seemed not to flinch, even at the thunder. "You have a great deal of courage dear lady."

She smiled at Erik, nodding her head. "Not at all sir…I've but lived a little longer than most…seen a great deal of things and lived to tell of it." She nodded again.

Erik smiled at her, something about her countenance calmed him just slightly. "What would you do…normally during such a time?"

She raised her eyebrows, glancing over at the clock; it was nearly seven. She looked back at him. "Monsieur, I'd be setting supper in place for the household," she paused, a flicker of a smile gracing her lips, "for even the timid and faint-of-heart need sustenance when the storm has passed."

Erik smiled, in spite of his present trepidations. This fraction of levity in an otherwise tense situation, gave him leave to realize, indeed, storms did come, but as assuredly as they came, they would pass, and they would all be in need of an evening meal. "Very well then, carry on."

With that, the woman departed, traveling down the hall toward the kitchens.

Erik glanced at the parlor, and up the stairs to the hiding place where he'd stowed Christine. She was safe, and in truth, was most guarded there, should he find something further wrong with Erphan than what he'd first suspected. There was still the issue of the javelin…the vision….he was torn.

He turned toward the parlor. He'd look over Erphan more carefully, seeing what if anything he might do for the young man. As he came to the doorway, the man rushed out passed him, he'd several more windows to batten, for surely the worst of it was upon them.

Erik went to Erphan's side. Misty had diligently and respectfully removed his garments, covering him in a soft sheet and warm blanket. They were neatly folded and sat on the chair just off to the side of where he lay. She was carefully tending to him with a warm cloth, wiping at the red welt on his forehead. "Monsieur?" she said as Erik approached.

He nodded to the other gentleman in the room, the man quickly departing to assist JP in the stables. "Misty, you've done well, he looks most comfortable." He stood above her watching as she patted about his neck and chest. Erphan had begun to sweat.

Erik walked over to Erphan's clothes, pausing. He bent down and lifted the young man's boots. The first produced nothing out of the ordinary. He lifted the second, then sighed. Indeed, he had been struck by lightening, for a large hole was burned clean through the sole of the boot. Erik returned the pair neatly beneath the chair. He need look no further for the cause nor Erphan's fate; it was out of anyone's hands. If he were to survive this strike, he would do so only as his body and God willed it, for no manner of man's hand could help him now. The sheer fact that he'd survived it at all was a miracle.

Erik walked over and placed a tender hand on Misty's shoulder. "I am to return to Elizabeth, we shall be in the study, but pray do not disturb us lest Erphan take a turn for the worse."

Misty looked up at Erik, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Monsieur, I must tell you…" she looked down at Erphan and then back up at Erik. "Last week Erphan and I had opportunity to walk in the gardens one evening, neither he nor I could sleep in the heat. We'd sat a long while discussing a great many things, and we happened upon the subject of our time in service in your household. Monsieur, Erphan professed that he'd never been more honored to work for any man than he was you…he felt of you as he would…nay…he loved you as if you were his elder brother. You see Monsieur, his brother was killed a number of years ago, and with his father already gone he'd really no one to look up to until you'd taken him under your wing." She paused, looking back at Erphan, wiping his brow again that had re-beaded with sweat.

Erik had neither anticipated Misty's words nor his own reaction. He was nearly brought to tears….loved him as a brother…oh would that it be the heavens would be so merciful that he had a brother. He looked back at Misty.

"Monsieur," she continued, "I am most certain, should he not recover, that he'd have wanted you to know such things." She looked back at Erphan.

Erik's movements were nearly always premeditated, but in that moment, he went with his gut. He knelt beside Misty, putting his hand on her shoulder, and his other on Erphan's. He bowed his head; Misty followed suit.

"Dear merciful Lord, please heal our friend, restore him to us, and to the life that he has chosen. Heal his body and mind so that he might fulfill your purpose for his life. Amen."

Erik squeezed Misty's shoulder and rose above them. "Do look after him Misty. We've but to wait, he's in God's hands now." With that Erik turned and left.

Erik mounted the stairs, a sudden wave of emotion washing over him; he brushed a tear away from his eye. He'd come to care for these people in his household as if they were family. Each was unique, possessing talents and weaknesses that made them both perfect and imperfect, and utterly human. He'd never known more than a small handful of people in all his life that he'd truly cared for, but now his world and heart were expanding. Life was complex, life was messy, he thought to himself as he reached the upper floor. Though he missed the familiar placidity of his former life at times, he'd never trade what he'd found in this collection of people…not trade it for any amount of riches in the world.

"A brother…" he uttered under his breath as he came to the panel behind which he would find his love. He had so much to tell her now. Surely it was time to take her into his confidences. She would be wondering why they would be moving yet again, and she deserved to know why.

"Christine?" Erik said, tapping lightly on the panel. He heard a bit of movement behind the door, and then the release of the latch.

"Erik, has danger passed so quickly?" she said with a quivering timbre in her voice.

Erik reached in taking Christine by the hand, gently guiding her to a standing position, embracing her. "My dearest Christine, I trust you are without harm for sitting in such a confined place?"

She nodded as she rested her head on his chest. "Yes my love, we are all quite well."

Erik took Christine's hand, looking down into her eyes. "Christine, I must explain my actions. I know I've confused you greatly, and I desire to do so no more. There are things I'd hoped to protect you from…" his voice caught in his throat, he coughed, "but it seems that fate has placed your mind in the midst of it, for surely you'd have no other knowledge of the javelin should it not have been meant to be so." He smoothed his hand along her cheek. "Far too much for such a young soul to bear," he kissed her forehead, "but tell you I must, lest it be revealed to you in another way. Come," he said, sliding his hand along her waist as another round of thunder rattled at the battened windows. "Your curiosity some months ago nearly revealed this secret, now it is time for you to know of the contents of the drawer."

Christine gasped…the drawer…but that had been at the Winter house, how was it that…she did not know, and would not question it.

Erik led a silent Christine down the stairs toward the study. Her heart was pounding as they passed Erphan with Misty sitting doting next to him dabbing his brow, she nodded.

"My love will Erphan be…" Christine whispered.

"To everything there is a season my love, and only God knows if Erphan has entered the winter of his life." Erik leaned down and kissed her temple as he opened the door to the room and led Christine inside. There was much this night would produce, and though he had faith, he worried for it all.

Outside on the lawn lie the rocking chair, split in two, splayed on the lawn being battered by the rains. The chair had taken the most direct strike, likely sparing Erphan's life. But one could not help but wonder looking at the sight, if it foretold of things to come.

XXXXX

The driver had stopped several times in the village before he'd finally come to the carriage door, conversing with Andre that he'd found a suitable tavern for dinner, and a place where he might rest and water the horses. The streets were aglow, and as he was concerned, there was something a little too perfect about the City.

Andre held out his hand as he escorted Lady C from the carriage. Her eyes were wide as she departed the carriage. The street they were on was beautiful. Neatly manicured, a delicate pot of flowers out by each stoop, and tiny window boxes brimming with petite ivy. Every so many meters there were beautiful lamps that lighted the path, and indeed, it did look like something out of a painting she'd once seen. Save the fact that it was entirely devoid of people or animal, it would have been perfect. There was a glow in every window as far as her eye could see. She turned looking at Andre, "One cannot help but feel as though we are intruding on a most personal moment for such a sleepy village. No dog, no child, no manner of any stirrings of life…how very odd indeed." She stepped down the last until her foot was on solid ground.

"This way Madame, Monsieur." A polite man said quietly as he escorted them into the tavern. His manner a bit formal, yet warm in demeanor.

Lady C and Andre were greeted by an inviting aroma of roasting meat and freshly baked bread. The man led them in silence to a small table in a corner near the window, and not far from the fireplace. Andre looked around. There were only three other tables in all of the tavern that were occupied, and of those not one was having more than a nearly silent conversation. Lady C looked at Andre as he watched the man walk back toward the kitchen.

"How very strange indeed," he said to Lady C, "it's as if the whole town was under arrest in their house, and we but unknowing intruders." He smiled at her discretely, leaning forward to whisper. "I'll inquire when the man returns, there is something most…" he quieted as a young woman appeared at the table with a pot of strong brewed coffee, a small pitcher of water, and several plates of warm bread with a chilled and marbled cheese and butter.

Andre noted the young woman had a pleasant smile, but had offered no greeting. He almost felt a pang of guilt for breaking the silence.

"Pardon my forwardness mademoiselle, but I've noticed the general quietness of your beautiful village, pray do tell, we do not intrude upon some sacred occasion?"

The young woman leaned forward as she filled the water glasses, "sir, we are normally a quiet village on Sunday evenings as we observe a most decided time for family to be together in quiet reflection. Most typically all manner of business is closed, save for inn which welcomes visitors on their way too and from Paris." She began to pour a cup of coffee for each. "This evening however, we are even more so in a particularly reflective state as we are observing an evening of silence in honor of our frequent visitor Charles Dickens." She looked down respectfully at the table. "Surely you know of him, and his passing."

"Indeed we have, in fact we are on our way even now to Paris for his funeral." Andre offered as he lifted the cup to his lips. The coffee was smooth yet even stronger than what Lady C so oft requested.

The young woman set the press of coffee down lightly on the table. "I am most compelled to inform you sir that the bridge between here and Paris was washed under the currents of the river as it swelled from the most recent rains. As of earlier this afternoon, the bridge was only barely visible in parts, and certainly not safe enough to travel, especially now that night is descending. I am terribly afraid to tell you, you will most likely be spending the evening with us here." She smiled apologetically at Andre and Lady C. "You and your mother will be most welcome here, and I dare say you will be in good company." She glanced over Andre's shoulder. "There are the duke and dutchess of Cornwall, and beyond them the baron of Tindall and his wife. The third couple, I dare say I've not seen before, but I think they may well be from Arabia, their dress is most unusual, and the young man accompanying her I do believe is in her service for she treats him rather tersely."

The young woman looked up when she heard a throat clear. It was her father, standing in the door to the kitchen a hot tray of food in his hands. "Do excuse me Monsieur, Madame." She moved respectfully toward the kitchens.

"Most interesting," Lady C said as she lifted a bit of the bread to her lips. "I do hope they've room for us, and for the carriage drivers as well."

Andre looked at her a bit surprised. Most generally this sort of unexpected interruption would have caused a most different response from the Lady, but now she seemed comfortable in the change, though he knew she'd have not preferred it.

Lady C smiled at Andre, "I can tell by the most curious look on your face, that you wonder at my lack of response." She sipped from her cup of coffee, looking at Andre. "You see, in my life I have learned that one cannot be upset over things which one does not have control of. This my dear sir, is not Chauesser, and I must defer to the kind graces of those whom manage this pretty village. One can easily tell that it is cared for with no less zealousness than our household cares for Chauesser. If we are to be delayed, there is little we can do, save make the best of it." She smiled, lifting her cup again.

Andre still marveled at the changes he'd begun to see in Lady C these last months. If he hadn't known better, he'd have ventured a guess that she were under the aura of a new love.

The young lady presented herself yet again, a plate for each set in front of them. "I do apologize if this may not be to your liking. It is our tradition in the village on Sundays."

Lady C looked down to find her plate filled with steamed vegetables, a large wedge of deep orange cheese, and a smallish dish of a steaming pickled meat."

"It is lamb Madame, in curry sauce." She nodded and left the two to their dinner.

Andre smiled at Lady C, raising an eyebrow. "Perhaps they have a lovely dessert!" He said in a hushed breath. Lamb….it had never been a favorite, and certainly never graced the table whilst at home. But….she'd said they'd make the best of it…and so they did.

XXXXX

Katherine was out of breath when she pushed her way into the doctor's quarters behind his offices. There was a humble kitchen, a small sitting room, a water closet, and a curiously large bedroom with several armoires four trunks, and the largest four-poster bed that Katherine had ever seen. She'd brought with her the largest sheets that they had at the inn. They were made for the high-beds that were becoming all the fashion in Norway as of late, so were much larger than most.

The bed had no coverings at all, save the neatly folded quilt that was at the foot of the bed. John Paul hadn't spent a night there since he'd come to Chauesser. He'd stayed his first while at the Inn, and then had gone to live with Nicole and her mother after she'd taken ill.

Katherine smiled while she worked. She could scarcely believe that she'd had the good fortune of overhearing their conversation so that she might do this for Nicole and John Paul. No wedding night should be missed, even if there were good reasons for it. Having a marriage not honored in that way would only add insult to their vows, and ache to their hearts.

She was practiced at making beds, and in no time at all she'd sheet and pillow case in tucked neatly. She grabbed the basket she'd brought with her. There were flowers for the vases on either side of the bed, candles for the sconces that protruded from each post, and a handful of soft white rose petals for the cover. She quickly draped the fine white netting she'd brought with her over the top frame. One day it would need to be replaced with the appropriate draperies, but for tonight, it would still give them an air of privacy. She gently brought the netting down on either side, and stepped back. The room was taking on a beauty it had been so long devoid of. She paused only for a brief moment and then quickly went to set the fire to be ready for lighting. The champagne was in a bucket on the small table, two new glasses, and a plate of strawberries set off to the side. As Katherine pulled the door closed behind her, she wished she could do more for the couple, but at the very least she'd provided them a temporary haven for their wedding night.

She lifted her basket and once more took flight, returning in a flurry to the flat where everyone had gathered for dinner. In the basket she'd a chocolate torte they were planning to serve for afternoon tea the day next, and a pot of gravy she'd warmed. True they were pitiful excuses for a delay, but then again, except for her father, they'd all think her to have had to take time to make the gravy. She knocked just once, opening the door to a room full of warm conversation and delicious scents. Oh how wonderful a night it truly would be.

Nicole looked up, nodding politely to Katherine as she joined them at the table just as they finished their salad course. "Your fiancé has been entertaining us I dare say since you left my dear friend. Stories of him try to teach you to fish, and you trying to teach him how to roll a crust for pie. It seems you are equally suited for one another having need for one another lest you both starve!" Nicole smile at Katherine, her face was positively glowing.

Katherine took a sip from her glass of wine. The entire table waited, with patient care, until Nicole's mother finished her salad. Katherine and Nicole were quickly on their feet, clearing away the salad plates. The next was a course of soup, and then would follow the main entrée. By the time they'd finished the fourth of the five courses, their stomachs hurt as much from laughter as from being filled.

Before Katherine and Nicole could rise to clear away the plates, John Paul and Katherine's fiancé were on their feet. "Do allow us dear ladies. You've tended to the meal, we shall take care of the table. Do go sit in the parlor won't you?"

Katherine smiled at Nicole. The cake, it would have to wait…for it was to be a wedding cake, though no one save her knew of it. "Nicole, might I have a word with you….in private. I've something to ask you about a trousseau that I dare say would be a bit blushing in mixed company." Truly it was a shameful excuse, but no one would question it.

Nicole looked at her mother, and then at John Paul's father before she rose and joined Katherine who led her into her bedchamber. They'd no sooner found themselves inside the door than Katherine embraced Nicole.

"Oh my dearest friend!" she leaned back looking at a stunned Nicole. "Now," she said go over to the armoire, "let us see to finding that dress will you."

Nicole came forward, putting her hand on Katherine's shoulder. "However did you know, we've just…."

Katherine smiled. "I am your friend am I not? And was it not I that taught you the fine art of eavesdropping?" She smiled at her all the more as she reached to the back of the wardrobe and pulled out a hanger, its' contents hung straight but tightly wrapped. "Yes, this is it!"

Nicole shook her head. She could barely speak. The day had been a whirlwind from when she'd first opened her eyes. Now she was planning to slip into a most sentimental garment on what would be the most memorable night of her life.

Katherine slid the dress over Nicole's head. They'd paused just briefly as they'd heard the door to the flat open and close, no doubt John Paul taking the pastor outside to inquire of his services. She turned to look at Nicole who had a tear running down her cheek. She leaned forward placing a gentle peck on her brow. "Do not worry my dear, it shall be a wonderful night, you shall see!"

Nicole could do nothing but smile. One day they'd have a proper wedding night, but for tonight she would sleep next to him, held in his arms protectively, something she'd needed for so many years it brought her to tears. "A doctor's wife Katherine….a doctor's wife…"

Katherine finished lacing the back of the dress. "It is wonderful is it not?" She smiled sitting Nicole down in front of her vanity. "And now for a little something." She spun Nicole's hair up into an elegant swirl, and reached into her pocket, retrieving a lovely silver hair comb. "You've something old, the dress of course, something borrowed.." she said as she slid the comb into the coif of Nicole's hair, "and the something blue…well.." she looked about the room, then she smiled, "something blue will be the eyes of your most adorning husband!"

Nicole rose, embracing Katherine. "My dear friend, whatever would I do without you?"

There was a knock at the door, "ladies, may I enter?" the pastor said. "I've need to speak with Nicole for just a moment.

Katherine went to the door letting the pastor in and slipping nearly out, "oh, I nearly forgot."

She scampered away from the door, leaving Nicole and the pastor looking at one another in confusion. Katherine returned without a word and handed Nicole the vase of flowers from the table that John Paul had purchased for her. "You might be needing these," she said with a smile as she closed the door behind her.

XXXXXXXX

Nadir had taken leave of his work; having been toiling most diligently for hours without break for more than a scant cup of tea. Madame Giry had sat by faithfully, reading quietly, interjecting comment occasionally when her opinion was asked of her. Nadir sighed, a more than a bit satisfied with the expenditure of his efforts. He'd now several dozen pages of notes from which to craft his final record. A bit of history, a bit of creative supposition, and a bit of lore and imaginative injection, and he'd be finished. Oh how he longed to have Erik there as his consigliore, for no one knew the man's work better, nor held it with higher regard than he.

Carefully he wiped all traces of ink from the pen and returned it to its rest. He turned to find Madame Giry dozing, an open volume of Dickens on her lap. He smiled. Though she was not considered a woman of the uppers of society, he thought she possessed all the refinement and graces of females twice her status. She was an elegant and refined creature; and he'd come to adore her in ways he'd barely allowed himself to before.

Slowly he rose walking over to her, lifting the book from her lap. He'd enjoyed their solitude, but now he'd need to take her for a proper supper, and a nice glass of port. Though he'd longed to see Erik and Christine, he'd come to enjoy these unexpected turn of events, for one never knew why things turned the way they did.

Nadir stood looking down at Madame Giry, the way her hair rested over her shoulder, the long braid she'd had wrapped round her head, now loosed and laying on her shoulder. He could see a glimpse of the woman she'd likely been when she were a younger woman, yet to him, she was far more beautiful with a bit of life showing on her face. What Madame Giry possessed that younger women did not, was the heart and soul of a woman seasoned by life. She knew the joys of the flesh and the sorrows of the heart, and to Nadir, there was nothing more beautiful than this.

He leaned over her, tenderly kissing her on the cheek. "Antoinette…" he rubbed his hand along her shoulder.

She stirred slightly, trying to sit up in vain whilst she straightened her dress beneath her. "Nadir, I beg your forgiveness, I was poor little company.."

"Do not worry my dear. Our conversations gave way to great inspiration. It the quiet that followed pages of notes came to me. Now all I've to do is craft them in to a suitable arrangement and my work will be well on its way." He lifted her hand into his as she began to rise.

"You are most generous in your pardon Nadir." She glanced around, the room was the hue of early dusk. "I pray, what time is it Nadir?"

Nadir lifted her hand to his lips kissing her knuckles, "it is time for me to take you for dinner dear lady. I do think the Starboard will be most accommodating should we walk that way." Nadir released her hand moving toward the hook to retrieve his cloak.

"Do you think it not be far too busy to accommodate us, given the surge of Dickens loyalists?" Madame Giry said, straightening her skirt.

"Perhaps, but I've never known them to have had trouble making room for us before, and I shan't suspect that…"

Madame Giry and Nadir turned toward the door. A second knock reaffirmed that there was indeed someone there.

"Mother?"

Madame Giry's face lit with the lumens of a thousand candles as she rushed toward the door, opening it to find Meg and Raoul standing there, arm in arm, the elder DeChagny not long behind them.

"May we come in?" Raoul said, leaning down to place a kiss on Madame Giry's cheek.

Nadir nodded at Raoul, opening the door as Madame Giry and Meg embraced. "Do come in…what a most pleasant surprise!"

DeChagny quickly escorted them into the room, closing the door behind them. Their arrival had been swift, and they'd now want to draw any undue attention.

"You are just in time to join us at the Starboard, we were leaving now to have dinner there." Nadir said looking at the lot of them.

"I'm afraid that shan't be possible sir, and in fact I've ordered a most delicious dinner to be delivered to Madame Giry's quarters within the hour." DeChagny said. "We shall not be staying in Paris more than this night, for Raoul and Meg still have time to be at Plum house before an announced return to Paris shall occur." DeChagny strained an unusual smile.

Nadir took notice of his expression, "to what then sir do we owe this most pleasant but unexpected visit?"

DeChagny nodded at Raoul. He was a grown man, and time for him to tell his future mother-in-law of the news.

XXXX

There it was again, the thunk of a heavy boot in the space above him. Pyotr was all but certain that Monsieur Courtland's staff had left hours before, as he'd ventured a peek and found the carriage gone. No, it was the same familiar sound he'd heard earlier in the day. A great gasp rose in Pyotr, so much so that it swelled and he could contain it no longer, he gasped audibly. Then he retracted in fear as he heard the footsteps draw closer overhead. With such great terror he listened as a pair of knees were lowered to the floor. There was no escaping, no where to go, his only hope was to…. Pyotr drew the pistol from his belt, silently loading it with the bullets he'd taken from his pocket. In his nervousness he'd dropped several but managed to load the gun. He inhaled slowly trying to estimate the exact location of the person above him. He listened, and listened, and then carefully his hand rose from his side, still shaking, but knowing full well the closeness of the target would make his aim less important. He pulled back the trigger. The small clicking sound caused the person above the floor to rise. Without so much as further hesitation, Pyotr shot twice, a scream and a loud thud, told him he'd hit his target. He sat trembling….sweating….listening….and there was silence.

Slowly, carefully, Pyotr rose, lifting the door above his head just slightly so that he could peer out. He could see little else save for the soles of a pair of boots that no doubt belonged to whomever his shots had felled. He closed the door, and repeated this process three more times before he'd enough bravery to rise out of his near-death hiding place. Slowly, quietly he peered at the still figure, he was indeed as large and formidable as Pyotr had feared. He glanced beyond the man out into outer yard, and save a single horse, adorned with finery equaling a stallion in the royal stable, there was nothing.

Pyotr, sighed. He'd have to retrieve all the articles in the lower chamber and make a run for his life. It would not be long and this soldier would be missed. Pyotr turned, grabbing a long stick to prop open the trap door. In the next instant he heard behind him a great growl, and before he could throw himself back into the hole a great javelin swirled toward him, meeting him at mid chest, throwing his back against the outer wall of the stable. He immediately began to feel cold. He could do little more than watch as the dying man drug himself toward him, it seemed fate had come to call on both of them. Pyotr could neither scream nor fight, but winced as the man threw his shoulder into the javelin, thus securing it through the outer wall, then fell to the ground at Pyotr's feet. His breath began to leave him, his consciousness waning as he watched the man dip his finger in the pool of scarlet liquid that had become a blend of both of their lives….and then he closed his eyes.

A hush fell over the meadow, a gentle rain began. The horse made its way inside the stable to retreat from the rains. There in that structure the horse lay down near its master. There in that small structure came to an end the lives of two men, both devoted to their craft, and in the end it had cost them dearly. The horse kicked his leg as he began to doze, thus dislodging the stick Pyotr had used to prop open the door. It came down with a thunderous crash under the weight of it….but there was no one to hear it.


	212. Thoughts Professed and Hidden

Chapter 212 Thoughts Professed and Hidden 

Dear Faithfuls:

My deepest apologies for this singular update this week. Though I cannot begin to explain, there have been many things vying for my attentions this week. April is around the corner, and with it I pray, a reprieve from some of the stresses of late. I hope all is well with you, and that everyone has a reason to smile tonight. Just for fun, smile at someone you've never met before. You might very well be surprised what that affect that random act of kindness might do for them!

Angel

Their dinner now eaten, the loaf of baguette nearly consumed, the pair sat enjoying a press of dark coffee, fresh from the beans he'd roasted that afternoon, and ground just before he brewed it. She'd come to like the way he prepared it, a pinch of chili pepper, a pinch of Bavarian cocoa, and a dash of cream. It was nearly dessert in itself, and the scent, a near other worldly pleasure. It was among many the many things that she'd come to appreciate about her visits there.

The woman sat down her cup of coffee, smiling at Lucien. "Did you hear that the foreigner has been hand selected by the publisher and DeChagny himself to write a tribute to Dickens?"

Lucien looked down at her as he stood to clear the dinner plates that had been set aside. "Yes, I'd heard as much." Secretly Lucien felt a twinge of jealousy. He knew as much if not more about Dickens than any man in Paris. "Have you read any of the other things that the man has written as historian? He is actually quite brilliant." The pleasure of his own writings were much hidden, since none save the publisher knew his real identity.

He walked over to the counter, retrieving two small plates of dessert and returned to the table. "I dare say the man will do him justice," Lucien said as he laid one plate in front of each of their chairs.

"Hmm…it is a great work that he will do Lucien." She said, then falling silent as she lifted the first strawberry to her lips. They were perfect, the large June berry at the peak of its ripeness.

Lucien's dessert lay untouched in front of him. His palate suddenly out of the mood for sweets. He refilled their cups from the press. "I do believe you are right dear lady." He sighed. Their conversation had not been as lively as was normal for them these last encounters, and he couldn't help but wonder if it was he or she, or perhaps the mitigating circumstances that had fallen in Paris that had colored their normal enjoyment. He found himself, as he so oft did, in self-reflection. He tended toward the analytical and self- critical with such ease.

She sighed, lifting her cup into her hands, leaning forward just slightly. She'd been pondering for a long while… "Do you ever think about it Lucien…that night we went to Perdue's….what we saw…" she looked up from her cup at him; she could see it in his eyes.

"Yes Madame, I dare say it haunts me still." He glanced at the table. "I know…I believe what we saw, but with lack of event since that time, in the manner that the Phantom so oft conducted himself, it does give one cause to wonder. Though I suppose one could argue he's nothing to protest as long as productions have yet to formally begin." He reached down, plucking a tender red fruit from his plate, taking a firm bite from its center.

The woman nodded, "indeed." She said reflectively. "I suppose one could further argue that he'd returned to retrieve some items of importance, and left not long after he'd arrived." She glanced up, their eyes meeting in a contracted stare.

"I suppose one could think that." He sighed. "And if one supposes as much, that he's come and gone, does that bode well for the survival of the young soprano? Dare say one could hope that she still lives?" Lucien looked down at the table again.

The woman was shaking her head. "We may never know sir, but one could hope that whatever fate has befallen her, that she is either in the hands of God, or has somehow found way to manage her providence."

Lucien nodded his head in agreement. He lifted his cup again. Perhaps the mystery would never be solved, the issue never resolved. Sometimes it was true of such events, they remain forever unknown, but the event itself, not forgotten.

XXXXXX

Raoul guided Meg over to her mother, leading both women by the hand to the far end of the room near the fireplace. They needed a moment of privacy, what little the room could afford them.

DeChagny watched the trio admiringly. Turning to Nadir, he glanced back over his shoulder. "Pray do tell what progress you've made in your work sir? You do not find it too burdensome a task."

Nadir shook his head. "Not at all, not at all…it has indeed consumed the lion's share of my day, and I dare say Madame Giry's as well, but it has been a labor of respect for a man devoted to his work to the last of his life. How could one begrudge such a person a proper tribute? To say the work was tedious would be to mock the very precision and care he used to craft his volumes, and nay would I be so brass to do so."

DeChagny nodded politely, in truth he'd just been making idle conversation for he watched intently as Raoul and Meg joined hands with Madame Giry.

"My dearest Madame Giry, it was great thought and adoration that Meg and I have come to you this night to share in our great joy." Raoul looked down, he'd need to apologize to her for not asking her blessing first as he'd promised. Meg squeezed his hand giving him reassurance he should go on. "Madame, I love your daughter, have loved your daughter for a long while now. The time she has spent faithfully at my side…"

Meg interjected, "and he faithfully at mine…"

"Such time spent in one another's company when combined and totaled are likely far more than several years worth of courtship where one sees each other at best, several times a week, and then only under the most favorable circumstance." Raoul looked at Meg, she was smiling at him, her eyes closing she nodded just once.

"Madame, when I imagine my life now, I cannot perceive a day of happiness that would not have Meg in it. To that end, whilst at Plum house a decision was made, a pact forged, and we hope that you approve." Raoul was hesitant but decided he would follow through with the plan he'd made in his mind.

Raoul held in his hand one of Meg's delicate hands. He reached out taking one of her mother's hands. Slowly he came to bended knee in front of her mother. "I must now humbly ask for your daughter's hand." He looked back and forth between Madame Giry and Meg. "I shall love her forever. Care for her when she is weary, rejoice with her when she is glad, mourn with her when she is sad. She shan't want for anything that the world could provide her, and should we somehow be separated by death, she would be well cared for." He smiled at both women. "Meg will one day be a wonderful mother, I've no doubt in my heart of it. But I want to promise you, promise you both, that I will love her first and foremost as my wife, never relegating her station to that simply of mother of our children. She will be cherished and celebrated in my life always, as the wonderful woman that she is."

Madame Giry and Meg lifted their hands, pulling Raoul up from his knees. The trio embraced. Madame Giry placed a delicate kiss on Raoul's cheek. "You sir, have my full blessing." She smiled at him. "You've ambitious goals for loving my daughter, and if you can but manage even half of what you so desire to do, she will indeed be a most fortunate woman."

DeChagny and Nadir both found themselves watching the small huddle with great interest. Nadir turned to DeChagny, a swell of pride in him, he extended his hand. "Congratulations sir, on such news. I do think you will find that she will add greatly to Raoul's happiness, and I dare say she will be a most doting mother, and pleasant daughter to you sir."

DeChagny smiled. "I do agree." Then his voice quieted. "I must tell you Nadir from the first I had reservations about Raoul's choice. Now having spent a great deal of time with Meg, I find her to be a most amiable creature, and one set on spending her life pleasing Raoul. She's been a most diligent pupil, learning all manner of things that would be expected of her in her transition in standing within society, and I dare say she shall have little if any trouble meeting with approval from even the most stringent would-be detractors. What Meg possesses naturally is a grace far beyond her rank." He smiled at Nadir, a bit of teasing in his eye. "I rather think she gets that from her mother."

Nadir smiled at him, nodding just once. "Indeed sir….indeed."

The pair walked over to join the others in rejoicing. They'd make their way up to Madame Giry's quarters, and enjoy, quite privately, a meal of thanksgiving and celebration. For tonight they could bask in the glow of this new familial growth. They'd much to decide. When would it be announced to society. When would they return from Plum house. Where would Meg stay until the wedding. What details of the service, the reception, the honeymoon. Who would design the dress, and how many attendants would be required. So very much to decide indeed before any breath of it was spoken outside the small group. And there was Raoul's wish to speak with his sister before even one other person knew.

XXXXXXXX

Erik closed the door to the study behind them, releasing Christine's hand only long enough to lock the door. He led her silently over to the divan, where he seated her, placing a long tender kiss in the center of her temple. It told her that she was special, that she was prized, that she was loved.

Erik walked to the window, looking out into the bleakness of the dreary night sky. He sighed. It was time. If there was to be a casualty in all of this… if the beast would find and vanquish him…Christine had every reason now to know why…and to know that he deserved whatever befell him. He closed his eyes, imploring beneath his breath a most fervent prayer, before he could return to her side, "forgive me Lord, for she knows not what I have done…let her love me in spite of my iniquities, protect her from the dark shadows of my past, bathe her in the most glorious of your light for she is first and foremost your child, and you've but entrusted me with her as my wife…let her tender and discerning spirit partake of this knowledge and forgive me…"

Erik turned to gaze upon Christine. The glow from the kindled fire cast an amber hue on her ivory flesh. Her eyes were wide and serious as she stared into the flames; her breathing shallow. Erik knew she was preparing herself…for whatever he was about to tell her. He swallowed. Even in her greatest imagination, she could never conjure up vision enough to even closely resemble what he was about to tell her. He knew in his heart that it would forever temper the way she looked at him…forever alter her perception of him. He could only pray now that she would love him….even after she knew all…knew all of him.

Christine turned abruptly, looking up at Erik, her breath catching in her chest. His eyes were already rimmed and red, a line of tears cresting and threatening to breach his lower lid. His gaze shifting rapidly, fluidly, from deep love, to sincere repentance, to fear, to a hard, dark hollow, and back again in nary a blink of an eye. She swallowed, lifting her arms toward him, "come Erik…come my husband…into the arms that have promised to love you forever."

Erik felt a great lump rising in his throat, oh would that it could be that he had found his great love, and that he would not be unworthy of her after all confessions were made. He inhaled a staggered breath turning fully towards her, yet he could not move. In his hesitation lingered his doubt of worthiness, his self-loathing, memories so repulsive he could taste the putrid bitterness of the words of confession before they even formed in his mouth.

"Come Erik," she stretched out her hands further, now barely touching his fingertips with hers. "Let me prove to you that I did not make a faint promise under the snowy skies of our wedding night. I vowed to love you…come what may until my dying breath…and I shall…I reaffirm that promise to you my love…" Her fingers now slowly pulling his towards her until she grasped his hands, leading him toward her.

Erik felt as if his heart were breaking. He'd not thought of this in so many years. His former self so long suppressed, the sins of his past now drug from the deep dungeons he'd held them in with great vigor. He'd face the horrors again…but this time he'd not face them alone. Perhaps this time…oh that it be this time….he'd be able to receive absolution for them.

Erik looked with great pleading into Christine's eyes as he let her lead him into an embrace. In one silent moment of utter surrender he fell to his knees before her, leaning heavily into her arms. His head buried against her chest, his heart beating beside the protruding roundness of her swollen womb. All that he loved was in that place, and the final forgiveness he thought would never come…lay within her arms. And they both began to cry.

XXXXXX

Andre and Lady C finished the dish of citrus cream. The lemon zest and chopped hazelnuts had made it an especially interesting finish to the curious dinner they'd consumed. The young woman appeared, the press of coffee was removed and in its place were two snifters, each poised over another snifter filled with a steaming bath of water. The young woman sensed their hesitation. "It's cognac, best consumed warm to bring out the fullness of each layer in the flavor. Taste, you'll see. A hint of nutmeg, a warm deep vanilla, and strong nutty flavor as you finish and exhale. I do so hope you enjoy. It is one oft consumed in our village, and was a favorite of Dickens." With that the young woman disappeared into the kitchen.

Andre gave Lady C a fleeting look. They each lifted the snifter from its home, noting the pleasing warmth of their glasses on their hand. Lady C closed her eyes, inhaling slowly, yes…there was the unfamiliar but not forgotten scent of a fine liquor. They took their first sip, trying to concentrate on what the young woman had mentioned. Madame Giry slowly rolled the liquid about on her tongue, exhaling slightly as her tongue rose to the roof of her mouth several times, engaging her palate fully. Indeed, it was there, each flavor as it was described her. "Extraordinary," she said, placing the snifter back in its place atop the other.

"Indeed," Andre said. He had been taking inventory of the room. It was a curious collection of art from some recognizable artisans, and other astonishingly beautiful works of clay so life like one would not have been surprised at all had they jumped from their homes and pranced about the room. Now, save the one other couple, they were the only pair left in the room. Andre lifted his snifter taking another sip. It was utterly amazing how very different something could be flavored and appreciated if it were the precise temperature to reveal its' perfection. Puddings deeply chilled, soups hot but not boiling, cheeses slightly cooler than room temperature, and cognac…he smacked his tongue once more in satisfaction, cognac most certainly steamed.

"This has been a most pleasant distraction, if however unusual." Andre said, slowly turning the snifter about in his hand allowing the amber liquid to slowly swish about in the snifter. He lifted it to his lips, taking another sip. Something this delicious was meant to be savored…slowly.

"I dare say you are right, unusual, but telling of the class of this enclave. They've no fewer, and perhaps a greater number of refinements than even our beloved Chauesser." Lady C said, a fleeting hint of jealousy in the timbre of her voice.

Several tables over the woman's head turned just slightly, her eyebrow raised. She'd heard the name of a City that was of particular importance to her. How very fortunate indeed. Perhaps she could glean some information from these unwitting strangers. Everyone had some particular use or another. To her they were but another pair of insects to be used and discarded, or consumed if they did not serve her particular purpose.

Slowly the woman rose with the arrogant aplomb of a wealthy aristocrat. She was a beguiling yet formidable creature. Nearly as tall as many a man; yet as feminine and alluring as Aphrodite. Her raven hair, her charcoal eyes, and her high cheekbones, made her a particularly remarkable sight to behold. Her skin was silken and flawless, her poise and gait impeccable.

She moved carefully, purposefully toward the pair. The layers of her long black dress moving in all their regal elegance. She was a sight to see. Many a man and woman were unnerved by the very presence her beauty and stature commanded. She'd grown rather accustomed to such admiration and genuflection; indeed, she'd rather come to expect it of everyone she met. She was most assured this couple would be no different. For what were they but another infinitesimal piece to the infinite puzzle she'd tried to put together bit by bit. Happiness had been too elusive; gain had been too easily come by. The purest challenge was to have what none other could possess. That was the entire purpose to which she found herself so very far from the comforts of her home. The intangible treasure lay in the very City, the name of which had advantageously rolled off this stranger's tongue. Yes, certainly she'd have to discover what they knew of the City. Yes, to everything and everyone there was a purpose.

Lady C sat her snifter down on the table, Andre immediately sensing her displeasure. "Whatever is it dear lady?" He extended his hand toward hers on the table, but she did not move. Her eyes were fixed, and a strange sort of contemptuous concern was growing in them. His instinct would have had him turn harshly on his heels, scouring the horizons for what it was that caused her such concern, though he'd no need for he could hear the approaching foot steps.

XXXXX

John Paul sat in the chair in the small flat in the center of Chauesser. He was not alone, yet felt entirely certain he was alone, for no one can actually make the venture for you. He was about to take the most serious journey, walk the most serious steps he'd ever taken in his life. He fidgeted with the ring inside his pocket. None could see it, and he could only feel the smoothness of it as it moved round and round between his thumb and forefinger. It represented so much more than a simple piece of jewelry. It was a symbol. A symbol of love, of promise, of faith, of commitment, of honor. To place this on the hand of another with a solemn vow meant that he would forevermore live to bring her happiness, to seek in her embrace refugee from the cares of the world, and build with her a family. He sighed. His grandfather would approve. Now, more than ever as he watched as though a by-stander peaking in on the collection of people. He watched how his father doted on her mother, how Katherine and her fiancé exchanged glances, and held one another's hands beneath the fullness of her skirt. Inside he was smiling. Yes, grandfather would be pleased, he was certain that this is precisely where he knew he should be.

The door to the Nicole's bedchamber opened and closed. The pastor coming out and nodding toward the door leading out of the flat. "John Paul, would you do me the honor of accompanying me outside for some air?"

John Paul rose. "Most certainly, then when we return, we will see to the cake." He walked over to the pastor and out the door they traveled.

"Now young man, you do know what you are doing, and in your heart you know the burden you are about to take on?" The pastor said in earnest as they made their way down the stairs.

John Paul looked at him most curiously. He was a physician. Would a doctor not understand the burdens of caring for a dying woman? "I do not understand. If anyone can provide comfort to the woman and her daughter, it would be I." Now at the bottom of the stairs he held the door open for the pastor.

"No, no," said the pastor, pulling John Paul aside, "the burden of the town sir. You are marrying the granddaughter of the town crazy if you will. Yes, she is of good opinion now, but her every move shall be scrutinized, and certainly there are some who will feel that you've married far below your rank. Your living arrangements have been viewed as pity care for a woman who could ill afford to be taken care of. No one would think less of you should you not marry her."

John Paul spun about on his heels. "What say you sir, that you think that she is not worthy?" A sour taste growing in his mouth.

"Not at all, and my opinion is of little consequence, but it is the opinion of others, their high regard for your grandfather…" The pastor fell silent.

"My grandfather was indeed a wonderful man. I've come to learn a great deal about him from the citizens of Chauesser. I too held high opinion of him, and to him I owe a great debt for it was under his urgings that I came to Chauesser." John Paul took several steps away, trying to maintain his composure. He inhaled and turned to face the pastor. He was a man of faith and as such, deserved to be treated with respect. "My good sir, if you have any doubt that I enter into such an arrangement of my own accord, let me lay aside those fears for you. I love Nicole. It is of little consequence to me her social standing, her lack of fortune, her past, or her relatives, for that is not what I marry. I marry a woman who is faithful and loyal. Beautiful inside and outside. A woman any man would do well to find for she is a precious gem among a thousand tossed stones. My only hesitation in all of this is that I not be able to make her as happy as she has made me." John Paul looked down at the pastor who was now looking up at him with resolution.

"Very well then sir, let us go in, your bride awaits."

The two men went back inside. Upstairs a small window was drawn to a close. Nicole's lip was quivering, she brushed a tear from her eye. She'd opened the window to get a breath of air, bundled up in the formal gown had made her grow warm. What she'd never expected was to eavesdrop on a private conversation. Had she had any wonder what he truly thought of her…if he truly loved her…she had need to wonder no longer. She moved away from the window and closed her eyes tipping her head down. She folded her hands, uttering "thank you." She listened to the sound of their feet on the stairs. In a few minutes time she would be a man's wife….it was a dream…..a dream finally come true.

XXXXX

Misty sat dabbing diligently at Erphan's brow. She'd left his side only long enough to replace the cool water, and retrieve a bit of tea. Her mind had been wandering through the events of the last year that they'd served together in Monsieur Courtland's home. Their relationship had at times, been tenuous, and they'd grown into rather reluctant friends. Misty could think of at least a dozen times they'd shared in great rounds of laughter, and certainly banter of the slightly flirtatious variety.

She'd wished now she'd spent more time with Erphan in civil conversation. He'd been nothing more than an incorrigible young man, dancing around in silly fashion before he'd been taken under Monsieur Courtland's wing. Now, and especially since the last conversation that they'd had in the gardens, she knew he had grown, and was far deeper a person than she'd ever given him credit for. She sighed. She'd been far too impatient with the young man, and now she might never know how their friendship might have bloomed.

She dabbed at his brow again, and ran the cool cloth along his cheek, around his jaw, and down his neck. She returned it to the basin, and rose. She stood looking down at him a long while before she'd wandered over to the window, attempting to peer through the small separation in the heavy shutters. She'd not even realized that she no longer heard the rains, nor howling winds, and nay were there flashes of light.

She slid her finger through the several rings that held the boards in place, releasing them from their hooks. She opened the shutters wide to reveal the silent night that had grown out of the storm. Truly the grounds surrounding Courtland Manor were littered with branches and foliage, but the storm was over, and they'd survived unscathed. She shook her head. In her lifetime she'd not seen so many treacherous storms, and certainly not in one years time. It was as though the balance of nature had been upset by some cosmic event, and nothing had been the same in their world since.

"Misty?" came a faint voice from behind her.

She turned round so quickly she nearly made herself go faint. "Erphan!" she rushed over to his side. His hands were cold, but his eyes wide and clear as she came to rest next to him.

"Erphan, how do you feel, does your head cause you pain, can you move your arms and legs?" Misty had feared the worst but now had been slightly restored to hope.

Erphan barely looked beyond his fascinated and fixed gaze upon Misty's face. "I do not remember precisely what happened, but there was a great flash of the brightest light I've ever seen, and then a severe pain…"

Misty reached out for his hand. "Do not strain yourself, you've been through quiet an ordeal, you should rest now." A genuine look of concern in her stare as she sat over him, dabbing at his brow.

Erphan swallowed, his throat was dry, his tongue as if it were made of the most parched ground. "Misty, I am sorry to have caused you such work…"

She smiled at him, "nonsense…" she laughed, "you've not felt guilty for the work you've caused before, why should you start…" Misty startled as Erphan's look changed.

"I love you……most fervently," Erphan blurted out. The profession of such startled even he. Though he'd known a long while that he'd an affection for her, his thoughts had been supplanted by the knowledge that her heart was otherwise inclined toward a man with whom he could scarcely compete.

Misty sat holding his hand, blinking as she looked away, she could say nothing, so great was her surprise of such sentiment.

Erphan lay still, turning his head away; after such an utterance, his face grew hot with blush. He'd never intended to tell her. Keeping such to himself would have allowed her to have unfettered happiness. Now, an uneasy awkwardness would surely settle in to where a delicate friendship had grown. He was mentally chastising himself for behaving in such a rash manner. What would she think of him now?

Misty neither had want to leave his side, nor knew what to make of such confessions.

There the pair remained, holding hands though they could not bring themselves to exchange glances. Neither knew where the conversation ought to go from there.

Erphan, turned abruptly, his mind switching quickly to one thought alone, "the books! Dearest Misty, did my satchel, the bag that I'd had on my shoulder, did they…"

Misty tried to quiet him. "Dear Erphan, do not worry." She stood, grateful for the momentary distraction, and wandered over to the chair where she'd neatly folded his clothes. His boots set beneath it, and just behind them on the floor, was the brown leather bag which she assumed was what he referred to. She lifted it and carried it over to Erphan.

He sighed. "Thank the heavens. I thought it to have been abandoned out in the rains, all record being lost from the soaking." He smiled at her as he dug about in the bag, retrieving a small linen sack in which the items from Chauesser were stowed. "This is to go straight away to Monsieur Courtland. I'd promised the physician that I would see to the delivery of such myself, but can now hardly imagine it to be possible. Do promise that you will carefully deliver them will you not?"

Misty nodded. She needed excuse to remove herself from the situation. She felt herself more and more drawn to Erphan and it vexed her to be certain. Taking the bag from his hand she smiled. "I'll be certain to deliver this straightaway. Erphan….may I call you Erik?" She stammered. He nodded. "I am flattered by your words, any young woman would be more than flattered by such affections…"

Erphan reached out and took her hand as she stood by him, the other grasping tightly the bag he'd given her. "Misty…it was not flattery, but my truest feelings. I knew I'd regret it if I never told you…and never forget it if I did." He blinked, smiling wearily at her. "I think I shall rest now, if you'd not mind terribly."

Misty nodded, lifting the covers, smoothing them over his chest. "Rest now Erik, we will talk on the morrow." She slid her hand along his, the touch of their flesh suddenly sending tingles up her spine. Perhaps it was the electricity from the lightening that had coursed through him….perhaps it was something else entirely. She watched as he closed his eyes and relinquished himself into the netherworlds of slumber. She pushed the hair back from his forehead. She'd looked down at him. The night had been full of revelations…yes indeed…quite full.

She walked to the door, pulling it open walking through it, she glanced over her shoulder before fully turning around to lean against it as she closed it. She sighed. He had survived, now time would tell…perhaps so many things. She'd wait until morning light to give the books to Monsieur Courtland, for he'd requested complete privacy. She yawned. Sleep would be her friend that night.

She wandered toward her room. Once inside she climbed within the familiar layers of the comfort of her bed, nestling her head into her pillow, trying to close her eyes, but she could not. The look on Erphan's face, his words…replaying over and over again in her mind. Without another thought she sat up, sliding her slippers on her feet she gathered several blankets and slipped out of her room and down the hall. There was another divan in the room where Erphan lay. Perhaps she would sleep far better if she made use of it. If he needed her…she would be there for him.


	213. Opportunity

Chapter 213 Opportunity 

Dear Faithfuls:

Yet another long chapter, and I dare say it could have been much longer had I had time to touch on all of our characters. April will be another busy month it seems, but I will post at least twice each week. I trust that everyone is doing well. I am still reading your reviews and appreciate your thoughts! Take care!

XXXXXX

Erik's head rested against Christine's chest. Her dress soaked in tears intermingled from both their sorrows. His emotions had not flowed so freely as they were now in the comfort of her pardoning embrace. Inhaling he drew in a staggered breath. He closed his eyes; Christine's soothing caress eased his tempered soul. Her fingers ran through his hair aimlessly; her singular lamenting wish that she could allay his burdens. She'd learned to comfort him in this way, and she employed it effectively whenever she had need to calm him. Her other hand lay on his back, it too moving in gentle strokes.

Christine sniffed; though her sorrows were abating, her tears had yet to fully subside. Erik's secrets were still locked within him, and she knew not what he had to tell her, thought at this point it mattered little. What he'd needed most was to know that she loved him, unconditionally loved him and would face down with him whatever demons caused him such great pain. She'd never observed Erik like this, and it worried her in part and angered her in part. Whoever or whatever had done such evil to his soul that he'd carried the scars of such burden from it all those years, deserved no less than her undying reproach. His deep sobs had led her to the greatest of tears, for in them she heard his pleading to be healed, to be forgiven….to be released from the grips of what tormented him so. She was so young….so young….perhaps in some ways far too young to understand a pain that went so deep in one's soul. The physical comforts of touch, and the reassurances of her words, were all that she could truly offer him. She could only pray that it, coupled with his confession would release him once, and for all time, of the great pains that he held so doggedly within him.

Erik's hand ran along Christine's stomach. One of the children's limbs pressed along the edge that touched his chest. His hand easily following it now…it was a foot, yes a foot indeed, and the only thing that separated Erik's touch from his child were the few layers of protective skin of Christine's womb. Oh how he loved what yet he could not see. He looked up at the tear stained face of his most beloved…and oh how he loved what indeed he could see…to him, she was the most beautiful creature that had ever taken breath.

Christine's hand glided beneath his face, cupping his chin in her hand. "If I could reach you my love, I'd bestow upon those wonderful lips a most ardent kiss, but it seems our children have come between us." She smiled sweetly at him as she ran both of her hands over his cheeks and under his eyes, removing the traces of his tears. He looked so fragile, so broken, so vulnerable. "Come my love, sit with me," her hand traveling the breadth of his strong shoulder as she spoke.

Her touch would forever run shivers up and down his spine. Even through all of this she still moved him. Erik looked up at her soft features. The pink of her lips, the delicate tip of her nose, those wondrous and engulfing eyes….they beckoned him like a supplicating well to a traveler parched in the heat of a desert's summer. He was powerless against her wishes. Leaning back, his hand never leaving her stomach, he tried to stand. His knees protested, his legs felt numb from having sat in one locked position at length.

"It seems my dear that my feet have fallen asleep!" The pair laughed. A relieved air about their tone told the other that whatever came in the ensuing conversation, the mourning had been done, and they'd nothing to do but finish the description of it.

Slowly Erik rose, managing to lean on the end of the divan to erect himself. His shirt entirely soaked it lay heavy and cold now separated from the warmth of Christine's body; he shivered.

Christine looked about the room, nothing in sight for him to aid him. "Erik, if you remove it, your flesh will dry. Here," she stood, "allow me to take it up, I will hang it on the chair by the fire, it shall dry whilst we talk."

Erik watched as Christine un-tucked the lower edges of his shirt from the waist of his pants, gently removing the garment from his shoulders. He shivered yet again as his eyes followed Christine to the chair where she hung his shirt to dry, sliding it a bit closer to the warmth of the fire. She returned to him, running her hands along his chest. It was still damp and cold. Instinctively she blew on his flesh; the moisture evaporated under the warmth of her breath. Erik closed his eyes; he'd never forget the sensation.

Christine ran her hands down Erik's shoulders as she looked up into his eyes. "I love you Erik." He was all the more handsome to her now; it was something about his vulnerability, his sincerity, his trust in her.

Erik's lips quivered as he leaned down, his lips embracing hers. He drew her to him, a tingle running through him as the flesh that covered her collarbone pressed against his. A deep sigh escaping him involuntarily. His heart had been opened and splayed, and he longed for her, even now…under these circumstances. "Christine…"

Christine's hands wandered to his, their fingers intertwining she drew his hands to her back and the laces and ribbons of her dress. There she abandoned them, her own returning to his chest. Slowly her warm palms smoothed over the broadness of his torso until at last they crested his shoulders and ran the length of them coming to rest behind his neck. "Erik," she whispered into his ear as she drew his face even closer. She could not deny what they felt in that moment. It would be her final reassurance to him that nothing that he could tell her would ever detract from the love and affections she held for him within her.

Erik looked down into Christine's eyes. "But my dear Christine…" he said with momentary hesitation in his voice. Christine's finger finding its way quickly to his lips silencing his utterances. She shook her head just once from side to side. Her hand sliding once more behind his neck drawing him closer to her. He inhaled, he too could not deny what he felt in that moment, and she, it seemed, had no want to deny it either.

Erik's hands, now quite adept at the laces and binds of her garments made no difficulty of removing them. There she stood before him in all of her beautiful glory, the swollen flesh of her abdomen glowing in the light of the fire. To Erik she'd never been more magnificent, nor desirable.

He leaned down to embrace her, lifting her carefully from her feet, carrying her to the divan, carefully laying down with her there. He looked but once more into the reassurance of her eyes. There was nothing he would not give her, nothing he would not sacrifice for her. And she….she had given him everything, and now…even now…she gave him still more.

XXXXX

Nicole leaned her head against the door in her bedchamber as she heard the outer door close. She heard muffled voices, recognizing it to be that of her soon to be father-in-law.

"What say you we slice into the wonderful cake?" There was something about the comfort of family and friends that he'd missed all those years. This cake was to be enjoyed in the midst of happiness. Most of what he consumed in the presence of others had been at the funeral dinners where most everyone barely ate and those that did were looked upon as callous infidels.

"In but a moment father, we shall have dessert, but first may I ask of you, all of you, if you would be so kind as to bare witness to a joyous occasion." John Paul offered, his voice quivering just slightly under the strain of his welling emotions.

Katherine rose, walking past him she lay her hand reassuringly on his forearm, glancing up at him.

John Paul smiled, he breathed a bit easier, at least one person had been taken into Nicole's confidences and even now provided him a bit of comfort.

Katherine moved quietly beyond him opening and closing the door to Nicole's bedchamber. "Are you ready Nicole?" she whispered as quietly as she could.

Nicole had gone to the single chair in the room beside her bed. As Katherine entered she looked up at her, such confusion dancing across her face. "It is all happening so fast…" she glanced over at the bed. She felt light headed. "A wedding, but no marriage of…." She could not bring herself to say it.

Katherine smiled to herself, sensing the great disappointment in Nicole's voice. A wedding without a wedding night made it feel as though it all weren't real at all. In that moment, her efforts of the hours previous pleased her immensely.

"Do not worry my dear Nicole, I've but a surprise for you, and you shan't protest, not even one word, when I tell you of it." She went to Nicole's side taking both of her hands as she came to rest on the edge of the bed facing her.

Nicole's face grew confused further still. "Of what do you speak?"

Katherine reached up her hands pinching at Nicole's cheeks to give them a bit of color. Her hands tucking in the stray wisps of hair that strayed beyond the veil. "This night, you shall not be staying here with your mother." She gave Nicole a knowing glance as her eyes lit as if she would begin her objections, for she knew her dear friend well. "You've not to worry, there are no free rooms at the Inn to be sure, but you shan't be staying here. I have already arranged to spend the night here tending to your mother."

Katherine again shook her head as Nicole tried to speak. "Nicole, a wedding night is most sacred, and two shall not be separated from it if it at all can be helped." She patted Nicole's hands. "Whilst I was out retrieving the rest of our meal, I paid a bit of a visit to John Paul's….nay…your house…and let us just say that it waits for its master and mistress to return to it this evening." She smiled at Nicole, tapping the end of her nose. "You my dear would have done no less for me had the situations been reversed, you know that to be true!"

Nicole lowered her head. There was no argument to be made, Katherine was most correct, she'd have attempted the impossible. She and Katherine had many a hand in making wedding nights beautiful for brides and grooms who stayed at the Inn. They'd often done a great many things to make such evenings special for the young couples, for to them it was the pinnacle of romance and they found such great joy in it.

"However can I thank you Katherine…" she looked into her friend's eyes with such gratitude.

Katherine inhaled, and took Nicole's hands into hers she looked at her most seriously. "Go out into that room and marry the man whom you love….live happily ever after. That is how you may show your gratitude." She smiled at Nicole. "Live to love one another, and bring your children to see me….that is all that I require of you."

Nicole stood, embracing Katherine. She'd never had a sister, but if she had, she rather imagined she couldn't have felt any closer to her than she did Katherine. She'd been a true and loyal friend.

Katherine looked at Nicole. "Now my dear friend it is time. When you leave here this night you shall be Madame Nicole Perdue, wife of Chauesser's physician." She smiled at her. "Though you would protest yet further, I do not want to see you again until Tuesday when you shall join your mother and I for lunch at the tavern."

"But Katherine….that is two nights, the care, the…" Nicole quieted, she knew by the look in Katherine's eyes there would be no talking her out of it. "Katherine, your fiancé?"

Katherine was straightening Nicole's veil. "Do not worry for him. I dare say it would be best for him to become accustomed to my caring for my friends for I've no intentions to stop even after we are married. Little did you know, poor thing that you are, that when you befriended me some years ago that you'd never be rid of me…I am your friend for life my dear!"

Nicole heard footsteps outside the door, and a small rap of knuckles against the grain of it. "Nicole?" It was the pastor. "We are ready for you my dear."

Katherine turned her about, her hands firmly on her shoulder looking her at her squarely as she lowered the veil over Nicole's tear filled eyes. "Go out my dear and embrace the happiness you have so long deserved." She lifted the veil quickly placing a peck on Nicole's cheek. "You are ready to meet your groom my dear." She slipped her hand into Nicole's and walked her over to the door, placing her other on the latch.

Nicole paused before the door opened, "thank you" she said with her lips, not uttering a sound.

Katherine looked into the eyes of her friend, closing her own she nodded, "anything for you my dear." The pair looked at one another and inhaled as they opened the door.

The room was not silent as she'd expected it would be. There was the most melodious of sounds coming from the front of the flat. There stood John Paul's father, piccolo in hand playing a beautiful melody; Nicole recognized it at once. It had been the one John Paul had requested of the violinist that had played for them for dinner the evening previous. She smiled. As she rounded the corner her eyes met her mother's tear-stained face. Katherine took her hand and placed it in her mother's hand and went off to sit with her fiancé.

"Nicole my dear…" her mother said, squeezing her hand. She led her out into the room where all others might see her.

There in front of the fireplace was the pastor and John Paul, awaiting his bride. His face was glowing as he watched Nicole and her mother walk the few steps toward them.

Nicole's mother lifted the veil, placing a kiss on her daughter's cheek. She ran her hand along her chin. Then she turned to John Paul. He leaned down allowing her to place a kiss on his as she gave him Nicole's hand. She looked up at the pair, a happiness she'd not felt in so long she'd nearly forgotten it. She nodded and bowed just once and then returned to her chair.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here this night to join in holy matrimony this man and this woman, who have pledged before me their wish to become husband and wife. This agreement is not to be entered into lightly, nor born out of convenience alone, but to reflect the deepest desires of their hearts that the two shall no longer be parted flesh but be united in marriage and in one spirit…."

The group sat totally and completely enthralled in the enchantment of it all. It mattered little that lightening was returning to the night sky, or that the rains would surely come. Inside that tiny flat a love shone so brightly it had the candle light of a hundred suns. To bear witness to such event could be likened to the birth of a child. A singular event producing new flesh…fragile…and in need of the most tender care.

"John Paul, do you take this woman to have and to hold from this day forward, forsaking all others, promising to love her in sickness and in health until in death you are parted?"

John Paul looked into Nicole's eyes. She was a beautiful creature to be sure, but what he loved about her was deep within her, the part of her that would never change with age, love her until death? Nay, he was certain he would love her far beyond the grasps of the grave. "I shall".

The pastor turned to Nicole. "Nicole, do take this man to have and to hold from this day forward, forsaking all others, promising to love him in sickness and in health until in death you are parted?"

Tears were streaming down Nicole's cheeks as she looked up into John Paul's glistening eyes, she pushed back her tears, "yes…yes I shall."

Katherine was sitting between her fiancé and Nicole's mother, squeezing both of their hands tightly. She'd been to dozens of weddings in Chauesser, and several fine ones in Paris, and in all of those, in all of their lavish splendor, she'd not seen one so beautiful or meaningful as this.

John Paul reached into his pocket retrieving the ring he'd stowed there. He nodded at the pastor.

Repeat after me, "Nicole, accept this ring as a token of my love and undying affections, wearing it as a symbol of our love and fidelity, may it bring you happiness all the days of your life." He slid the ring onto Nicole's finger next to the ring he'd already given her. He lifted her hands to his lips sealing the rings with a kiss.

The pastor looked at Nicole, she shook her head but once. She'd no ring to offer him. But then from behind her came a hand on her shoulder and another outstretched at her side, a singular gold band lay in its palm. She inhaled, batting back the tears that were welling in her eyes. She looked up to see the face of John Paul's father. She glanced down at his hand. The band that lay in his palm now was his own. She knew of the love he had for his wife, and how he bitterly missed her since her passing. This band was all he had left of her.

Nicole looked at him with pleading eyes, there was no time for questions. He nodded. She reached out and took the band, squeezing his hand as she did. She looked up once more into his eyes before he turned away and returned to his seat. She turned to face John Paul who was now visibly crying. His father's gesture having entirely undone him.

The pastor smiled, "Nicole, repeat after me, John Paul, accept this ring as a token of my love and undying affections, wearing it as a symbol of our love and fidelity, may it bring you happiness all the days of your life." She slid the ring onto his finger, she too sealing his with a kiss.

The pastor sighed, he too was moved by the gestures of the marriage. Each had contributed to the couple's happiness in their own way. "Now by the powers vested in me by our heavenly father, and France itself, I pronounce you husband and wife."

John Paul's gaze had never left Nicole's. She was his wife now, to have and to hold, to love and be loved by. He was never as happy as he was in that moment…time seemed to stand still.

Nicole's eyes were welling as she looked at him, a great smile now spreading across her face, she whispered, "my husband…" as her hand gently slid along the length of his jaw.

John Paul leaned down, looking even deeper into her eyes, he lifted his hand to her chin, guiding it with his finger. "My wife…." He leaned in, their lips lightly touching. A cheer rose from the group, including the pastor who quite normally remained serious and stoic at such events, but even he could not remain unmoved by such intimate happiness.

John Paul's father lifted the piccolo once more to his lips, a lively happy song flowing from the instrument in celebration of the marriage.

The others rose each going to the couple sharing their congratulations and blessings.

Nicole's mother held fast to the chair she was leaning on for strength. "Thank you" she murmured below her breath. "Thank you for this blessing." She pressed her eyes tightly closed, pushing aside the tears of joy. There would be plenty of time for thanksgiving once she retired for the evening.

She walked over to the pair looking up at John Paul, "I'd always wanted a son!" She said happily placing a kiss on his hand.

"And I a daughter dear lady," came the voice of John Paul's father from behind them. "It seems we have many reasons to celebrate this night." He smiled at them. "Now what of this delicious cake and champagne I've been hearing about?"

John Paul laughed as he watched his father walk into the kitchen. He looked down at his new mother-in-law. "Mother, you see he's never met a chocolate cake of any sort that he didn't find most agreeable!" The trio began to laugh.

Katherine and her fiancé had busily poured the champagne and put the kettle on to boil for a bit of coffee.

The room was swarming with happiness and laughter. For a brief moment John Paul leaned down, smiling warmly into Nicole's eyes, "my wife….what a wonderful pair of words, I think I shall say them over and over again…my wife…my wife…my wife." He smiled at her leaning down to place an affectionate kiss on her lips. His kisses traveling to her ear he began to whisper. "In the fall my love I shall take you into Paris where we might have a proper honeymoon. Until then Nicole, please know that my affections for you will grow even more." He placed another kiss on her temple as she stood up once more.

"John Paul…" Nicole said, a bit of hesitation in her voice, "it seems…you see…" she batted her eyes sheepishly, even now as his wife she blushed at the thought of it.

"Whatever is it Nicole?" He slid his hand reassuringly over hers.

"It seems that Katherine has…you see…" Nicole felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Now let me have a look at him again, a married man…who can believe it?" Katherine said in a disarming tone. "Nicole I think your mother needs you." She glanced over her shoulder.

Nicole and John Paul both looked up, a momentary concern easily abated as they saw she was smiling, motioning with her finger that she wished to see Nicole.

"Do you mind at all," Nicole said, already missing him though she still held his hand.

He leaned down kissing her temple. "You will always be there for your mother, whatever and whenever she might have need for you." His hand gently releasing Nicole's as she moved forward.

She walked toward her mother, glancing back over her shoulder to see Katherine no doubt explaining what she'd shared with her about the evening's preparations for he too was shaking his head, a bit of a blush rising on his neck. She smiled. She knew of Katherine's power of persuasions, he'd not be able to dissuade her.

Nicole reached her mother's side, taking her hand quickly going into her mother's bedchamber and closing the door. Her mother said not a word but went to her wardrobe and retrieved a box. She walked back to Nicole. "This my dear…this is for you." She smiled as she handed it to her.

Nicole looked down, it was from a rather famous lace maker in Paris. "Mother where did you…"

"It is not for you to worry my dear." She patted Nicole's hand.

Nicole removed the cover. The tissue paper had not a wrinkle in it, and was of pale blue. "Mother…this is….this is new…" she slid the long white lace gown from the box. It was beautiful and flowing, layers of lace and sheer fabric, so elegant it seemed too pretty to be a nightdress. "How did you…." She couldn't have imagined how it could have come to pass.

Her mother patted her hand again. She'd not be confessing that it was Katherine who'd given it to her. It was the one she had bought for her own wedding night not a month before when she'd been in Paris. It had been fated she'd bought it so early, now it was as it should be.

Nicole folded it and put it back in the box. She went to her mother. "I love you mamma, and I shan't think of leaving you…" her guilt in leaving her mother even for but a few nights weighing heavily on her.

Her mother shook her head. "You are a bride now my dear, you've other things to think of aside from your mother. Katherine and I shall have a most wonderful time here my dear, you're not to worry, not to worry." She patted her daughter's hands again. "Now, let us go out and have some of that glorious cake before John Paul's father eats every crumb of it!"

The pair laughed as they walked back toward the door. Nicole stopped, leaning down to place a kiss on her mother's temple. They squeezed one another's hands and opened the door.

XXXXXX

Lady C did not flinch as the woman came to stand before her. She'd the oddest feeling about a stranger she'd ever beheld in her life; a great loathing had grown steeply in her as the woman approached, though the origin of it baffled her. She was cautious of strangers to be sure…but this feeling went far beyond caution, she dared say it was a hatred of the most scornful kind. Were it the woman's dress, or manner, or her boldness, she knew not, but nor could she deny what she felt instinctively. It was that uneasy intuition that so oft plagued her, but she'd learned to trust it without question.

Andre watched her, a bit unnerved by the look in Lady C's eye. He felt he should defend her…felt as obliged to buffer her from whatever this woman wanted…as surely as if she were his own mother. He rose just as the woman came to the edge of the table. His stature was nearly four fingers greater than hers, and his shoulders broad and protective, his chest now puffed and protruding, he stood erect.

"What travels bring you to see us Madame that you should find cause to interrupt our most private dinner? Have you no compassion for the wishes of this small village to respect the quietness they observe now for Dickens?" Andre was not more than a half meter from the woman, and though she was undaunted by his presence, he would neither look away nor retreat.

"Young man, you are a most certain companion for such a fine woman. I dare say I bring you no malice." She said in her serpentine tone. Inside she was seething at his audacity, no one talked to her with such boldness. "I heard mention of a village I'd heard much about, Chauesser I should say…it's not commonly discussed in this part of the Country." Her deep brogue and accent were unmistakable, though she spoke remarkably well for a foreigner. "Have you passed through that City on your way here? I should love to know more of it if you've seen it."

The man that accompanied the woman had taken liberty to pull up two chairs near their table in order that they might join them even without invitation.

Lady C was looking around Andre's shoulder. She admired him for so many reasons, not the least of which was with what loyalty and regard he defended her at every turn. She rose, touching Andre's elbow.

"It meets with my approval Andre that they join us," she shot the dubious man who accompanied the woman a sharp glance. "We shall be brief, thereby respecting, at least in part, the wishes of this village, and of the most gracious innkeeper."

Andre's look softened a bit as he turned slightly toward Lady C. "Madame," he held her hand as Lady C returned to her seat. He watched closely as the strange woman sat down, and in the chair slightly behind hers, the man perched himself on the edge of the seat as if he were at the ready of her beck and call. Andre warily slid his chair forward just slightly so that it was juxtaposed to Lady C's, and decidedly in a protective position.

The woman nodded, the large black plume of feathers tucked into her tightly drawn hair waving about. It looked like the wings of a black raven come to swoop in on its prey. "It was not with intention that I happened upon your conversation dear Madame, it was but chance that the name of the City caught my attention. I've oft heard on my travels of the beauty and general splendor of the City, and oft wondered about traveling there one day myself. Had issue not arisen with the death of this author, I think I should have been most amiably inclined to include it on my travels as I return to my Country."

Lady C had not even blinked, her discerning eyes studying the woman's every movement and expression. She inhaled, and with the stellar composure she'd possessed for so many years, she inquired, "and what Country might that be…that you claim as your own?" Her voice nor glance never wavering.

The woman's eyebrow rose ever so slightly. It had been a long while since she'd encountered a woman whose poise rivaled her own. "Persia Madame." She nodded to the young woman who'd brought her coffee cup and saucer over to her from the other table. She lifted it taking a long sip before she set it in the saucer, holding it in her lap.

Lady C's gaze traveled to the man who was behind the woman. He never made eye contact, his were fixed on the ground. Her glance returned to the woman. "You are a long way from home Madame. Is it a social visit that you pay on this small town?" Lady C lifted the snifter taking a small sip of her now cooling cognac.

"Ah I can see you are a woman of few words, preferring to come quickly to the point of the conversation." The woman smiled jeeringly at Lady C. "I've come to inquire of the hamlet of Chauesser," she looked around the room, "this city is of little consequence to me."

Lady C could feel her ire growing. This woman, it seemed, had little regard for the wishes of a City who'd been so kind as to take in travelers during a time when they observed such strict quietness themselves. If this were the type of regard she held for such a place, she'd not feel obliged to share more than a trifle of her beloved Chauesser.

"You are most correct, I do tend not to mire myself in idle conversation. Chauesser is as you've so aptly put it, a place that travelers would oft light for refreshment on their journeys, likely as much due to its location as its amiable residents. It is as is any city whose citizenry care for their village, a most amiable place. The people there are very close, and tend to be most protective of their fair City. Not that they are inhospitable to be sure, but they do have healthy regard for anyone who might detract from their quiet way of life." Lady C, once more lifted the snifter of cognac to her lips.

Andre was smiling within, though his face revealed no hint of his feelings. Lady C was as always diplomatic and cordial, though he detected from the first word her protectiveness in the mere mention of Chauesser.

There was a quiet cough toward the side of the room. The innkeeper stood in the door, his daughter behind him. His eyes focused on Andre. "We've readied your rooms sir." His daughter nodding in polite gesture. "My daughter would be most pleased to see you to them."

Andre glanced at Lady C. He could tell by the look on her face that she was ready to retire, and decidedly ready to be away from this woman. "My dear Lady, may I escort you?" Andre rose, his back slightly positioned toward the woman as he took Lady C's hand.

Lady C stood, "why yes, I've grown quite tired as of recent. A night's rest would be most agreeable." She nodded toward the woman politely. "May you have a pleasant remainder to your visit, and a safe journey back to your country." Lady C nodded once more as she stepped away from the table. She stiffened as she felt a hand on her shoulder…it was like being touched by the stone-cold hand of death.

"May I say the same to in regard to your journey. It was most pleasant making your acquaintance," she paused, though she'd not remove her hand, "and that of your son."

Andre's head snapped back toward the woman. What had she said?

"Indeed, the pleasure was all ours Madame." Lady C said, her tongue nearly catching on the roof of her mouth, so dry that it was. Yet another lie…it had been no pleasure at all.

The woman nodded, watching as the young man and the woman departed with the innkeepers. She turned to look at the man who'd sat silently during the entire interchange. "Go to the stables, learn what you can from the woman's carriage and horses, and report back to me. I've a feeling this woman knows much more than she's let on. If my steward has not returned by morning's light, we may very well abandon our trip into Paris, and go to that small hamlet ourselves. There must be some reason that they've not yet returned." She glanced sternly at the man. "Go on then, make haste," she said gruffly. He bowed deeply and walked toward the door leading toward the stables.

The Innkeeper appeared yet again. "Your room is also ready…and the things you've requested are in your bedchamber." The man shook his head. It was a strange collection of things, but she'd requested them.

The woman stood and followed the man. She in truth was repulsed by the accommodations, having far more comforts in her palace, and far more influence on those within her grasp. Here she had to play by the rules…at least until she found what she wanted.


	214. Confession

**Chapter 214 Confessions**

**Dear faithfuls**: I believe this was the hardest chapter to write thus far. Too much detail and it would have taken on a gory tendency that I struggled to avoid. Too little detail and one would have wondered why Erik struggled with his conscience so, and what tormented him about his time in Persia. Thusly, it took additional days of thought and revision to produce. Now, feeling entirely spent, I hope that you are able to get through this rather long chapter and see the necessity of both what was included, and what was excluded, making your own inferences as you feel you have need to.

Thankfully April is here, and some of my life is returning to a more normal keel. A beloved friend recently had brain surgery which has kept me away from not only work, but our Phamily and this story as well. Thankfully he has turned out well, and the surgery saved his life, finding another underlying problem that if left untreated would have potentially killed him instantly with a brain hemorrhage. Sometimes what seems to be an awful thing protects us from something far worse, and this is most decidedly a case in point.

To all who have been faithfully reviewing in spite of my lack of reply, thank you. I have great hopes that I will be able to return to the more personal exchanges that meant so very much to me. Your reviews have helped me to know I was on the right track, and that you were still reading. To you, my undying gratitude. Thank you for being faithful, and for offering your heartfelt feedback.

Now on to the story! Please remember parts may be a bit more graphic than one would like, but a necessary means to an end, that of releasing our dear Erik from what has haunted him for so very long. Only then can he begin to grow to the next level, that of doting father!

XXXXX

Erik laid facing Christine. They'd been gazing into each others eyes, exchanging feelings that transcended words. His hand was running lightly over Christine's stomach. The children had quieted now; Erik's soft voice singing them off into slumber. He placed tender kisses above Christine's navel as if to bid them goodnight.

Erik looked at Christine's exposed shoulder, feeling guilty. Certainly the room was warm enough, and Christine was often warmer than she preferred. He reached out his hand, touching her shoulder, leaning over placing a delicate kiss on her jaw. "Are you warm enough my love?" His eyes were dancing as he looked into the depth of her swirling pools.

Christine nestled her head a bit more into the pillow she'd wrapped around her arm and bent beneath her head. She sighed, dipping her chin, a gentle smile spreading across her face. She watched as Erik's eyes began to roam her exposed flesh, and for the first time she felt a bit conscious of her body under his gaze.

"It has changed a great deal my love." Christine said, her cheeks beginning to flush. "It is a wonder that it does not repulse you, I look like an ewe on her side just before birthing a lamb." Christine's lower lip began to quiver.

Erik smiled, sliding closer to her, taking her head to his chest. "My dearest Christine, you are more lovely now than you have ever been!" He smoothed his hand over her shoulder, reaching down he slid the soft covering over them. He lifted her chin so that he might look into her eyes. He understood, though in his heart he disagreed.

"My dear Christine," he kissed first her left cheek, and then her right, her nose, her forehead, and finally a light teasing kiss on her lips. "You see there is a truth among men, that woman indeed find a mystery. When a man loves a woman he enjoys her. When a man loves his wife, and thereby she harbors the fruit of his loins within her, she becomes more precious in his eyes than gold." He kissed the tip of her nose, her face had turned into the characteristic pout that he so adored in her. "You my dear have been the delight of my heart even before you belonged to me. However shallow would it be of me to say that I loved you in one particular way or another? It is you that I love. Your body is a tender, beautiful vessel that holds within it the real woman that I cherish. The changes you see are most beautiful to me…it is the greatest evidence of our love."

He smiled at her as her eyes fluttered down toward her burgeoning stomach. Erik reached down and guided her chin back up so that their eyes might meet. "You my dear have given me thrice the blessing that any man may hope for. When I look at your flesh," he ran his hand down her collarbone, down the center of her until it rested above her navel, "I see the most wondrous of sights. There you lay, a great sacrifice of comfort and fatigue, and yet you complain little of it, though it must weary you."

Christine exhaled. She had to admit to herself that what he said was true. "Erik, it is no chore at all carrying our children. For when a woman loves a man, she desires for nothing more than to please him, and bring him honor by baring for him children."

Erik's finger glided softly across Christine's lips. "Shhhh…I know you are not of the sort to beleaguer others with your complaints. Even I, whom you love, you shan't complain to of the discomforts you are more than obliged to have." Erik kissed Christine's lips then drew her head to the warm comfort of his chest as he wrapped his arms about her shoulders.

Christine slid into her familiar place. It had become an awkward arrangement. His arm beneath her, her head reclined on his chest. Her left arm wrapped about his mid section, her leg bent in near half-square, resting across his. Erik's other arm cradled Christine's back, wrapped protectively around her. They'd lain in that very position so many a night when Christine could not sleep. She began running her hand over his chest.

A few minutes of peaceful silence passed between them before she ventured. "Erik?"

Erik sighed, kissing her forehead. "Yes Christine, I promised, and I am a man of my word." He inhaled, exhaling slowly, closing his eyes. Bright bursts of deep red, fire, screams….they flashed through his mind as the horrors began to surface.

"Christine, the drawer…there is much you do not know about the man that now lays next to you." He swallowed with difficulty. "I must ask of you two things before we begin."

Christine nodded, running her hand along the side of his face, "anything you ask of me you shall have my love."

Erik's eyes had begun to take on a distant glaze as if being overcome by some external force. "First, I must ask of you not to look into my eyes, for if I see you, I will most certainly not be able to go on." He smoothed his hand over her shoulder. The second request, you will find most frustrating, you must not ask any questions of me." He turned to look at her slightly. "I know this will be difficult for you, for no doubt many things may be confusing. I can only hope to tell you enough to protect you now. You must understand that I've not spoken of this to anyone, and have tried to forget…but it seems my past has yet to fade into the darkness of the life gone by."

Erik moved slowly from beneath Christine's limbs. He couldn't bear to speak of such things whilst he held such a creature in his arms; something about it just cried out at the injustice of it. It would be difficult enough to re-live those moments, and he'd not taint her flesh with his; surely hatred would be coursing through his veins like boiling poison looking for a route to escape.

Christine watched with compassionate eyes as Erik slipped into his robe; the fine black silk shimmering over his frame as the light from the fire danced across the floor. She glanced toward the window; the darkened sky seemed to give him some intangible degree of comfort. In an odd way he was most relaxed when it was dark outside, a behavior no doubt he'd learned from a young age. She watched as he paced slowly toward the window, his arms tucked in deep thought across his chest; his back rising and falling from his breathing. He was the most masculine man she'd ever beheld, and she never seemed to grow tired of taking notice of his beauty. She resettled herself on the divan, her skin already missing the warmth and comfort of his. She smoothed her hand over her stomach. The children were sleeping, she could focus on Erik, and Erik alone.

What Christine knew of Erik's past was pieced together from dozens of conversations. What little he could remember of his time before the gypsies, the time he spent traveling with the cruel monsters, his meeting Madame Giry and she hiding him beneath the Opera House. She knew of the years she of course spent with him, and the fact that he had befriended Nadir somewhere in his travels. She knew some of the things he had done with the seamstress. Whatever was in that drawer, she was certain, had been a link or a piece of the years that he remembered, but had never accounted for with her. Whatever it was, it was painful, it was tormenting, it was something she could tell by his stance he'd have sooner avoided. But now, from the set of circumstance that were forced upon them, felt he could no longer withhold from her.

She was entirely certain the javelin with the purple flag held a piece, nay, perhaps was the key that opened the box he'd held so tightly closed. Something, someone, had gotten to close, and now he'd no choice but to take her into his confidences.

Erik's eyes were pressed tightly closed, his hands now grasping the sill of the window so tightly that his knuckles turned a stark white under the strain of it. His head hurt, his throat felt constricted, his pulse began to race until he could feel the pounding in his temples. Somehow that beast had managed to plant a bitter seed in him. Tonight, …tonight…he would rip that evil root from its home and cast it into the fire. He'd learned that nothing was as cathartic as confession, especially in the warm embrace of one who loved you.

He began. "When Antoinette was being courted by her husband…I became sullen, most confused, betrayed." Yes, he would start there, it made the best logic to start there. "You see she'd become my eyes, my window to the world if you will, and now it seemed she too would betray me, leaving me alone to rot like a rat in a cellar. Even as inept as my social skills were, I knew she could not divide her attention between two men, it would be fair to neither man, and even less so to the woman herself. Do understand that I was not jealous, for though I loved Antoinette, it was the love one had for a sister, not a romantic love. She had been the family that I'd never had."

He paused, he could still see Antoinette's face as she'd come down that Sunday afternoon bearing her usual dinner. Her face was aglow. He'd imagined she'd garnered a favored roll in an upcoming production, or perhaps had a pleasant conversation with someone, or read a most enjoyable book. Never had he suspected what her happy face concealed.

He continued, "she'd come for dinner that Sunday, her smile spread so wide across her face it nearly reached from one ear to the other." Erik smiled as he recalled her face, it had been positively radiant. "We'd had a most pleasant meal, she carefully eluding every question that I'd tried to apply to our conversation." He sighed. "It was finally over our coffee and chocolate that she admitted to the origins of her happiness." Erik's lip began to quiver. "She'd found love, he'd asked her to be his wife, and she'd accepted." He shook his head. "She knew I'd be hurt, and had delayed telling me as long as she might, for she wanted to spare me the pain you see. In truth it did not matter when she might have told me, the blow would have been the same. I suppose in some small way it allowed us to have several peaceful weeks of company. You see she'd waited until the week before she was to be wed before she told me of it."

A small tear escaped Erik's eye, but he hardly noticed. "She'd worked out every detail. She'd still come for dinner, but it would be Sunday evenings. She'd tell her husband she'd be visiting friends at the Opera House, that had been her one condition upon acceptance to his proposal…even in her love for her husband she'd thought of me." Erik smiled. "She'd never meant to hurt me, and had planned for a way for deliveries to continue, though they would be less frequent." He shook his head, "It all happened so suddenly, I shan't forget my ungrateful impertinence."

Erik's steely grip releasing slightly on the windowsill, it had been so tight he'd begun to lose feeling in his fingers. "I became angry, tossed about the coffee cup, overturned the bench I'd been seated on…." His voice trailed off. "That night did not end well. There was a bitter exchange, harsh words, hurt feelings, and ultimately Antoinette fled the caverns in tears." He put his head down from the shame of it. "I did not even bid her goodbye, and neither did I tell her she shan't need to worry about me for I'd see to it that I would no longer burden her."

He inhaled. His throat had begun to relax, but it was so very dry. He walked over and poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the table. "I'd no real idea where I was headed when I left that night. I remember it was terrifying to be out of doors beyond the City of Paris. I'd taken a horse from a man's barn, leaving in its place a sum I thought commensurate with the horse's worth, nailed to the rail. Then I'd simply ridden away, pushing through the fog of the night until I came upon a sleepy town, and found at its edge, an abandoned set of farm buildings. There I stayed until nightfall the evening next. And so it went I traveled from town to town, sometimes sleeping in abandoned buildings or in caves or groves, depending on what could be found. I'd traveled this way for weeks. The groves of trees had given way to sparse lands until finally I'd come to a place where I could go no further. The ocean lay beyond me, rivers behind me, and yet I'd still no sense of where I was going. It was that night, as I sat beside a small fire in a cave near a river that I first made his acquaintance. I'd been so careful, never having had close encounter of any sort with a man whilst I was awake. The several that had come upon me when I slept had not gotten a good look at me. Nadir however, he had been the exception from the first I met him." Erik sighed.

"You see, I'd heard quite a scuffle outside of the cave, quickly dousing the flames. I'd gone out to discover the nature of it, and saw a man with another pinned to the ground, a knife to his throat threatening to slit him from stem to stern unless he return to the woman. I'd not really thought of it, nor of my own good senses. I listened as the man on the ground replied that she could take his life through a henchman but she would never have his soul, that was his alone and though she take his life she'd not have what she desired most. That enraged the man on top of him and he raised his hand, a dagger in his grasp, thrusting toward his chest. I cannot say fully what made me do it, but before the man could lower his hand I was upon him. His arm twisted behind his back. He cried out as much from the terror of not knowing his assailant, as the from the knife Nadir quickly produced and ran through his middle." Erik paused, he could still hear that dreadful sound of the air leaving the man's lungs, the splatter of hot blood from the man that had flown into his face.

"We then sat without conversation, catching our breath. It was a few minutes and I retreated to my cave bringing out a shovel. No matter what the man had been, and I dare say I did not know, he deserved a burial. The man and I dug in silence. It was not until we piled the last of the rocks over the shallow grave that we uttered so much as a word. I was certain in the cloak of near blackness that he'd not seen my imperfections, neither did I know if I'd exposed myself only to be slain that night whilst I slept, though I'd great hope that I'd not come to any harm having helped the man thus far." Erik's eyes traveled to the willow tree whose limbs were swaying about in the wind of the lawn outside. He lived in the current world though his mind was traveling in the past.

"We sat on the rocks next to the makeshift resting place of this man unknown to me. The man whom I sat next to was rather stout I could surmise, and he breathed heavily leading me to believe he either suffered from some health condition or he'd a rather round mid-section which did not allow for such exertions normally."

Erik smiled slightly, he'd come to tease Nadir of it later in their friendship, but that night he'd been nothing more than casually curious, thinking he'd never see the man's face. "As it turned, the man handed me a silver flask with a grunt, and a word, he said it was the least he could do considering I'd saved his life. I took the flask, and a large drink of what I thought would be water produced a fit of coughing. It was whiskey, and it burned every inch of me as I'd drunk five swallows before I breathed and realized it indeed was not the benign liquid that I'd imagined."

Erik smiled, a half laugh coming from him. It was the first time in his life he'd felt the full affects of hard liquor. It numbed him and he'd liked it from the first. It was a temporary distraction to the present discomforts, and a release of most memories of the past, if only for a few hours.

"He introduced himself, Nadir, he'd not mentioned his last name at first, nor from were he'd come but spoke only of a woman he'd tried to avoid. She was a lover scorned and had every design and resource available to her to seek revenge if she so chose. Nadir confessed he loved her, but had become confused, conflicted, and had but wanted time apart to be certain that it was a prudent relationship before he'd be making any commitment at all. That had not sat well with the woman at all for she'd sent others out looking for him after he'd fled the palace."

Erik sighed, taking another drink from the glass, "It was not long and it began to rain. The man had no horse, nor blanket, nor anything to shelter himself, so against my better judgment I invited him into the cave. I was certain I'd never see him again, so I'd decided to not affix my mask. He'd think me injured in a war of some sort, and I would allow him this liberty without question."

Erik closed his eyes again. He could still see the look on Nadir's face when he lit the fire and sat down across from him on the rocks Erik had drug into the cave for sitting places. It was not a look of repulsion, nor was it of pity, but of decided empathy that some terrible thing had befallen him that had left him thus scarred.

"We sat simply conversing. At first reticently, then more easily as Nadir made confession of all thing that had brought him there. I'd become something of a consigliore in those hours before morning light. We'd shared what humble sustenance I could provide him. It was a long while that I listened to Nadir, and it made me long to run to a place where life could be lived in the open, if however painful it would be, to know of life, to know of love."

Erik sighed, there was so much more to say on the subject, but it could take far more time than he'd had to devote to it now. "It was the next day that I found myself looking out at the open sea. I was on a boat bound for destinations I'd only read of in books. My new friend assured me that there would be some sort of life for me there, but I'd have to wear the mask. The place we were to go thrived on mystery and intrigue, and he could imagine no better way to assimilate into a place such as Persia than to arrive with a strong stature, and an aura of the unknown. He was greatly convinced it would aid in my ability to garner whatever I needed once arrived."

Erik smiled, Nadir had been more than correct in his assumptions for it had allowed for him to have more than most. "On our trip across the waters Nadir spent a great deal of time educating me of this new land, the people, the social order, the operative words, and especially sage advice to keep my past as much a mystery as possible. It would allow me great power, and in that place, power was the real currency, money was what the commoners used; those with power had no need of it.

Erik walked back over to the window staring up into the sky. The moon was now full, and it reminded him of a night in Persia, months after his arrival there. It was the first that he'd known of her attraction to him. He gritted his teeth. He had to tell Christine, for she would not understand what it was that caused the woman to hunt him so even now. He'd done nothing to dishonor himself or a future wife, but he'd faced a temptation squarely in the eye as if a poisonous serpent had been engaged and vanquished.

"Nadir and I had come from a most pleasant dinner as guests in the palace. She'd somehow managed to forgive Nadir for their fading ardor, and as long as he was willing to be her occasional companion, he'd no real worry of reprisal. She'd been most pleasant toward me, accepting me quite easily into her inner court with Nadir. She'd even tried to supply womanly affections from those in the palace, including virgins from several families within the courts."

Erik shook his head, gritting his teeth yet again. He remembered one young woman, all of sixteen who'd been sent to his abode with strict instructions. Erik answered the door in the midst of his slumber letting the young woman in as he could see she'd been crying. It was not until he'd woken a bit, and poured them each a glass of wine that he came to know why she was there and why she'd been crying. He reassured the young woman that her virtue was safe, and that the young man that she truly loved would be most fortunate to have her. He'd donned his cloak and walked her back home with every assurance that he'd vouch for her if the question of her virginity was ever brought to task. At first he was flattered that the Sultana had wanted to aide in his quest for love, but he'd not wanted it so badly that he would take an unwilling woman, and certainly not without marriage.

Christine watched for long minutes of silence as she saw Erik struggling with his thoughts. She'd promised to neither make eye contact nor ask questions. She would keep both promises if it meant poking her eyes or biting her tongue.

Erik glanced over at Christine, just slightly. He smiled to himself. She was as always faithful to her word. She too had been innocent and he'd taken her as his wife willingly.

"You see I'd refused every one she'd sent me, and somehow she'd mistaken my intent in having done so. Somewhere in her mind she'd taken it as indication that I was indeed after far more, and she'd become quite certain that it was she that I waited for."

Erik swallowed hard, taking another drink from the glass. His hand shaking as he set the empty glass on the table. He would spare Christine much of the detail, she need not know what had transpired in that woman's efforts to reciprocate the feelings she'd mistaken.

"That night she made her intentions perfectly clear when she came to my dwelling. She was the aggressive sort, thinking my hesitation was only done out of respect for her. After a time, and a great deal of diplomacy, she began to realize that I was serious, that it was not her that I sought, and I had no intentions of consummating any sort of relationship with her beyond the friendship that we both enjoyed."

Erik shuddered. "It was then that I saw a different woman in her. Suddenly things changed dramatically. It became her mission to have me, and she tried every trick she could think of to seduce me, but I was not interested in her bribery or any manner of promise she tried to make with me. She did not understand that it was true love that I sought, and I would settle for nothing short of it. To her it became a grand game, one that she felt destined to win at all cost. Nadir, though thankful for the reprieve of her attentions, felt responsible for having brought me there."

Erik paused yet again, he'd not relive the months of insidious courting the Sultana attempted, or with what lavishness she tried to win his favor. "Once frustrated in her efforts to have relations with me, her intentions turned. If she could not have me as her bed companion, than I was to be fashioned into something else for her purposes. She became distant though she still included Nadir and I in every social function as she always had. It was a confusing time as I thought, erroneously, that perhaps she'd gone past the frustration. I learned a great deal about subversive behavior in a woman scorned."

Christine sat silently. She had to remind herself to breathe.

Erik's steely grip returned to the sill of the window. His confession of being pursued by another woman was sure to have hurt Christine, he could not bear to look at her.

"It was then that the Sultana decided to develop a different system to punish the growing criminal element in Persia. She took much pomp and circumstance at one event to bring to light her intentions. Much to the surprise of both Nadir and I, we were those she appointed that very night to carry out the task of appropriate punishment of those found guilty of their crimes."

Erik huffed in disgust; he'd never met a more deceitful woman in all his acquaintance.

"Nadir and I were taken to her private chamber after all festivities were finished that night. She carefully laid out the plan as to having a system of judicial order that would consist of those already citizens of Persia. In that way the trial and judgment ordered would be done in a fashion that would be well received by her subjects. Nadir and I were then explained our chief responsibilities. They seemed just and allowed for us to be part of restoring order to this place we now called home…this Persia. After glasses of cognac were drunk, in the wee hours of the morning we were presented with contracts. She assured Nadir and I that the pages of scribed text was all that we had discussed in the previous hours."

Erik's teeth clenched once more, his jaw so stony he wasn't certain he'd be able to go forth, but he knew that he must. He inhaled.

"That is when the dagger was drawn, and as was custom in Persia at the time, such contracts were sealed with the blood of all those that signed it."

Erik walked slowly toward a small drawer tucked beneath the bookcases at waist level. Save for the small place for a key, cleverly hidden by an ornate circle of wood, no one would have known of its existence. His hand lay along the lock, the key in hand. He hesitated. It was really the last paragraph of the document that would have any real meaning to Christine, but he'd share it in its entirety now if she so chose.

He put both hands on the bookcase, leaning heavily against his palms, arms stretched above his head. He was blowing out shallow breaths, save for the few moments that the document had been in his hand when he'd retrieved from the winter house, he'd not wanted to touch it, or even remember that it existed. Why he'd kept it all those years still vexed him. Perhaps it was something of a legacy of his life, and he could not part with it.

"NO!" he said under his breath; he'd brought her this far, she needed to know. Slowly his hand returned to the drawer, the key slipping into the lock. He pulled the drawer open, slowly his eyes traveled down to the leather case. Within that oilskin was the document that had altered his life, and even now may have the power to threaten all he held most precious. He lifted it into his hands, his eyes lingering on the other items in the drawer for a brief moment. There was a time that they too called to him, but slowly they were losing their power over him.

Erik turned toward Christine though he'd not look at her, he walked over to her and placed the oilskin in her hand. He carefully avoided touching her skin, as he already felt poisoned. He walked back toward the window.

"It is alright my dear, you may open it."

Slowly Christine moved her hands easily unlashing the tethers. Carefully she unrolled the parchments. Her eyes grew wide. There were many pages, written in the most beautiful script she'd ever seen. Though she'd some training, and certain words she was able to make out, most of it was of little meaning to her. What disturbed her was the sight of splatters of blood on each page, drops in the center sealing each according to Persian custom.

"The contract you now have in your hand is what has caused Nadir and I to forge such a bond, and to run and hide for the majority of the years since we left Persia, it is indeed the very reason we left Persia. You see the Sultana's intent was far less noble and she far less honest than she portrayed herself."

Erik's lower jaw hurt, his temple was throbbing. He lifted his hands, the pressure from his steeled fingers heavily massaging it. Erik huffed.

"You see those that were brought to us, oh yes, at first were the criminals we knew of, and the due punishment they received, although seemingly harsh, we decided would be a deterrent to their ever committing such crime again."

Erik closed his eyes shaking his head. "It was not long and Nadir and I had seemingly been sequestered to that quadrant of the palace, the lower levels, with assurances that such influx was unlikely to continue for too long a period, and we would soon be back to the more normal routine of dinner parties, and time free to read and write in the park or whatever other activities we found pleasing to us."

Erik sighed staring down at the floor raising his eyebrow, "this was not to be so." He walked back to the window. "Nadir and I were given man after man, and several very callous women, all whom we were assured had been properly judged and we were to carry out whatever punishment the courts had ordered. Each punishment grew more and more intense, some even we questioned, to which we were assured their crime had been particularly heinous and therefore deserving. It was not a great long time before our aid, those who were ordered to carry out such things, began to assume a less direct role in administering the punishments. Nadir and I had been below ground for what we estimated had been nearly a month and a half, only allowed above in the evening for private dinners with the Sultana. She was always most interested in how the criminals had responded to such punishments."

Erik's lips began to quiver, a sob rising in his throat before he could stop it, it escaped him in a great pitiful gasp. His hand flew to cover his mouth. He clenched his jaw, swallowing the outcry before it took the upper hand.

"Then she took to visiting during the punishments; seeming to take far too much pleasure in watching a man on a rack as he was stretched incrementally until his joints nearly gave way."

Erik's pulse was racing. He would spare Christine the worst of the punishments, they were far too hideous to describe.

He glanced up at the moon recalling the first night he and Nadir were escorted away from the punishment they'd just administered. He and Nadir had been taken up to her private chamber to the outer court and given a bottle of wine and told to remain there until she joined them. They'd both been ill at ease, this a most uncustomary turn, but they enjoyed the night air, and the bottle of wine was from the finest part of her cellar.

It had been when they heard the muffled scream that they took leave of their stations and tried to venture back down the stairs, but were brusquely turned round and sent back to the chambers above.

She'd seemed particularly giddy when she rejoined them, bringing with her yet another bottle of the finest red. A midnight feast had been prepared and delivered to them. She was in such superior spirits she'd offered them a few days of holiday in a neighboring village. They were to be left alone with a small staff of servants at their beck and call. Indeed it had been most pleasant, and they welcomed the freedom to roam about the grounds of the small estate, reading and dining at their leisure. The Sultana had sent notice of extension to their stay as additional display of her gratitude for their most faithful services.

When they'd returned they were notified that a few modifications had been made, and several new instruments had been added to their repertoire. Nadir and Erik had toured the seemingly scrubbed and cleansed halls they'd worked in for so many a month at that point. When they inquired as to the burns they saw on several of the exposed beams in the lower parts they were informed that there had been an unfortunate fire in their absence. It was then that the tables had turned for them.

"You see Christine, the woman became increasingly more vile until such time Nadir and I could no longer honor our contract. We'd told her as much which was met with stern disapproval. Our evening dinners with her were cut out abruptly, our meals being delivered to us. Our flow of prisoners was kept in steady stream, and our departure to the upper outer court with a bottle of wine became frequent occurrence. It was not long that we came to understand that the prisoners that were left in an apparatus or another whenever she would visit and have us sent on our way, were not there when we returned."

Tears of seething hatred were burning on Erik's flesh as they made their way from his swollen tear ducts and down his cheeks. "This went on for a time more until one night she did not allow us to leave, but had us escorted to another room, not far from where we'd left the prisoner in her company. Nadir and I were admittedly confused, not having the customary leave, but knew there must be reason for it."

Erik swallowed. He would give as little detail as possible whilst conveying the last of this. "Nadir and I heard the most pitiful pleas, the most hideous laugh, and the scream of a man losing his life."

Erik rage grew, though this time he did not try to stifle it, the memory of it was so horrific. "Nadir and I left the room we were in and made our way down the hallway toward the room. Our guides seeming to have disappeared, we went to the door peering in. There she was…." No he could not, nay, would not begin to describe it.

"She came out to us, wiping her hands on the apron she had tied loosely about her before she removed it, discarding it on the floor. She said to us, "you see gentlemen, this is the ultimate future for anyone who dares break contract with me. Let it be warning to you." Then she walked away, glancing back over her shoulder, "now take care of it, follow the trail, you will know what to do." And then she left us alone. The javelin, the purple silk tied to the top…" Erik paused, he'd listen for Christine's reaction.

Christine's eyes grew wide, perhaps wider than they ever had. "The vision…the javelin at the winter house…"

Erik's breathing became labored. "Yes Christine. That is what I fear has come here to find me, to find Nadir." He had to finish, for her to know what had become of it all.

"You see we did take the man to what would be his final resting place. The trail she referred to, let us say it was a well stained trail up a set of stairs to the outer yard, where a great fire pit was dug." He paused, "I can tell you no more of it."

Erik's thoughts wandered that horror as he and Nadir placed the man's body in the heap of ash and dirt, mixed. It did little to disguise what was truly there. She'd been doing this despicable thing for some time now. How many souls lay there in that grave, could scarcely be known. The citizens never knew of the demise of said prisoners, only that they were no longer causing threat to society.

He shook his head, fearing he'd already said far too much. "That very night Nadir and I devised a plan…we found way out. Our plan took some time to carry out, and admittedly our services continued until we could make our escape…and we have been running from her ever since."

Erik's face was drained of all color, his heart aching not from the confession, but for the burden that surely now laid heavily on Christine's mind.

"I returned to the Opera House, Nadir escaped to his home country, which he'd been able to hide the true identity of such from her in some way. It took several years before we were able to find one another, but through Nadir's persistence it was accomplished. I'd traveled to see him several times, and he had come to Paris. It is he that helped me to use some of my means to buy the winter house, and eventually Courtland manor. He told me that we would not always be running, and that one day, I would find the love that I sought, and I'd best be having a home to shelter it!" It was the first time since he'd begun his discourse hours before that Erik smiled.

"Christine, this is what I hid from you, what I so desperately wanted to spare you from ever having to know, but now it seems we have been threatened in a way…"

Christine, making momentary leave from her promise said, "but the seamstress assured me that the woman thought you to be dead now." Christine putting two and two together now knew that Erik had been hunted, and the seamstress had unwittingly provided him a final alibi.

Erik shot her a glance, though she'd already looked away. "She is more clever than any yarn that anyone could spin Christine, make no mistake. I've now to find Nadir as quickly as possible and address this once and for all, for she will continue to threaten and wage her treachery as long as she has breath."

Erik exhaled, a painful staggered breath. He closed his eyes. He'd managed to get through, through the worst of it, and now there was little to be done than to toss the contract into the fire, and find his way to Nadir.

He walked to Christine taking the document from her hand he strode to the fire and tossed it in. The oil from the skin made it hiss loudly as if a serpent being consumed by the tongues of fire. He stood watching it, seething with hatred for the woman had further abused his life that was already so devoid of happiness it seemed it could not grow worse, but somehow she'd managed it.

Erik startled as he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned about, there was Christine, looking up into his eyes.

"I promised to love you Erik, and I shall until the end of time." She looked at him with an assuredness far beyond her years, and took his hand into hers squeezing it. "This changes nothing between us my love, nothing, and I shan't find cause to question nor punish you for something over which you had so little control. A frog that is cooked in a pot of water left on the stove to warm and boil is not guilty for its eventual demise; it is merely a victim of circumstance to which it could not have anticipated. You my love do not owe for those things to which you had no knowledge. You've confessed them, now be rid of this guilt, let it torment you no more."

Erik pressed his eyes closed and fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around Christine's middle. And he began to cry.

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"Huhhhhhhhh", a great gasp rose from Lady C's lungs as she sat straight up in bed. Her head was wringing wet, her heart pounding. She shook her head, trying to clear the webs that seemed to have grown in the short time she'd been sleeping. Her lips began to tremble. She allowed herself to fall back into the mound of pillows Andre had arranged for her before he'd retired himself. Her breathing slowing but still labored.

There was a quiet knock at the door to her adjoining room. Andre peeked his head in through it, rubbing at his eye. "I'm sorry to disturb you dear Lady, is everything alright?" He was shielding his eyes.

"Yes Andre…thank you….I…." she sighed, her brow furrowing. "I must confess though that woman tonight disturbed me….I neither like nor trust her…it is simply a feeling I cannot escape."


	215. Acceptance

Chapter 215 Acceptance 

Dear faithfuls:

Thank you for being patient yet again with me. My dear friend who had brain surgery is doing very well. His tumor was benign and he is now happily at home with his wife and family. During this difficult time, the mother of a dear friend from the same circle of friends, passed away. This past week has been a difficult and long one. I guess this is what they say about being friends. We are always, and in all things there and supportive of each other. Do cherish your friends, for one never really knows the day or the hour. Embrace life, and those things that make you happy. My hope is that this story, though long, has somehow added to your happiness.

Though I wish in my heart to return to the five chapters a week, as had been my general mode for so many months, I know that it is likely an unrealistic one. Life is busy not only for me, but for everyone in our Phamily. I hope to give you two chapters a week, thoughtful and heartfelt, and hope that this will be acceptable to you who have been so faithfully reading this story.

Until the next chapter…God bless, and take care….Angel.

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Misty abandoned her bed, and now sat next to a sleeping Erphan. She was gently running her fingers through his disheveled hair; hoping it soothed him. She'd been keeping watch for the longest time, unable to give in to the tired that she was feeling herself. What if he needed her? His breathing was steady and strong, though the beat of his heart in his veins was much less so. He slept, though it hardly looked like resting.

She sighed, glancing toward the window. It would be morning in not that many hours, and she would be face to face with the light, and those that traveled in it. It was these few precious hours between dusk and dawn that she would have alone with her thoughts. She'd not known what to make of his confession so great was her surprise at his verbal utterances. It vexed her that her heart had been tugged by his words. What stirred within her, she could not understand.

Misty glanced down, brought back from some altered state she'd been wandering in. He'd begun to breathe a bit more rapidly, and a sweat was growing on his brow. Oh how she wished he'd not been out of doors. Then neither he nor she would have to wander in this wonder. She smoothed her hand over his forehead, no mind to the fact it was covered in a sheen from his sweat. She bent down lightly touching her lips to his forehead.

"Rest Erphan….rest," she paused, "but do come back to us Erphan…do come back to us…." She paused again, running her hand through his hair before leaning down to whisper in his ear, "do come back…to me."

XXXXXXX

The heady scent of a freshly brewed coffee greeted them as soon as the wood that had separated one room from another had been put behind them. John Paul's father was telling a story in rather animated fashion about when John Paul was a child. John Paul had abandoned his attempt at protesting, as his father would hear none of it.

"Nicole, you are just in time!" Perdue smiled walking toward her, taking her hand, "my dear I was telling of the time before John Paul left for college when he'd professed what sort of woman he was looking for in a wife."

Nicole's eyes flashed a bit of horror as she looked over at John Paul. He was blushing and his lips were turned up slightly in an embarrassed, if not hesitant smile. She exhaled. If he'd not seemed worried, then neither would she be. Her eyes traveled back to her new father-in-law. "Pray do tell," she said with a smile as she went to sit next to her husband of not even an hour, taking his hand into hers. "Do I look anything like what you'd imagined?"

Perdue's smile changing just slightly, he'd never felt such pride in the wisdom of his son. He slid his chair about sitting down now to complete the circle, "my dear Nicole, his first instruction to me before he said a word was that I must close my eyes."

Nicole's eyebrow rose slightly, she glanced at John Paul, "close your eyes?" John Paul was blushing even further. She looked around the room and everyone had let their lids slide over their eyes, as if awaiting the description of it. It was too late, the story would be shared, and perhaps she'd have some insight into her new husband.

"Yes you see my dear he'd told me if one chose a wife based on what one sees, you shall disappoint yourself, and do a disservice to her, for surely all things of the flesh change with time. But if you…" he paused, his vocal cords constricting slightly, "but if you choose your wife based on what you feel, what her words, her character, her presence do to your heart….then you are destined to love the woman forever, for even in the last moments of your life, when the light wanes, and you feel a draw to the after-life, you will feel her as you close your eyes, and know that you have loved the woman, not the flesh."

A general hush fell over the room, everyone embracing for their own the sage words of the new husband confessed years before.

John Paul glanced over hesitatingly into Nicole's eyes, squeezing her hand. His lips trembled slightly as their eyes danced with one another, and then, he did what Nicole would cherish in her heart forever. He smiled, slowly closing his eyes, his forehead leaning against hers. He said just loudly enough for the benefit of the others, "and I would say, that I've no doubt I was right…even that long ago."

A round of gentle clapping rose from the collection of them, as Nicole opened her eyes, tears welling in them. "Thank you," she whispered, then turned her head slightly at the sound of the outer door to the flat closing, she glanced at Katherine's chair; it was empty. She smiled, she knew well what her friend was up to, and it made her blush all the more.

XXXXX

Lucien bid the woman good night. He'd walked her to the upper floors to the hall leading to her bedchamber. They'd a most pleasant visit, and a bit longer than most. The halls of the opera house were quiet and dark, save the singular lamp that burned for those that roamed them after midnight. He'd told her he had need for some air, and he'd detain her no longer. He'd no want to shame her, should any observe their strolling on after dark. Strange and erroneous inferences were certain to be made, such was the rumor mill that circulated, nay, churned in such a place as this. The lot of them had taken pride that their theater was of the highest standards, above the reproach of other theaters open in Paris. He'd want no comparison to be made amongst them at all, not only for the woman's sake, but for that of the future of the Opera Populaire itself.

He strolled toward the side door he so very oft used, donning the signature cloak of those in the Opera House employ. A gentleman seen walking out of doors that time of night in formal attire could quite easily take in the night air, under the guise of securing the perimeter. All one need do was to check at a door or two, rattle the gates as one passed, to be sure that they were locked securely, and any observer would be certain to think he nothing less nor more than a night watchman making his rounds. He'd done this more times than he could count. Perhaps in his own way he was something of a night watchman, self-appointed.

As he strolled the walk around the large darkened gates, he could hear the bark of a dog far off in the distance. The City, in spite of the recent influx of people coming to pay their last respect for Dickens, was unpredictably quiet. He had needed to clear his mind, to set aside his jealousy.

Lucien walked on, the gravel crunching beneath is boot; a waft of cool breeze circled about his collar, ruffling his coif this way and that. He tugged at the sides of his cloak lest it take flight. He was lost in his thoughts, self-retribution swirling about in his mind. It displeased him that he felt such scorn for not being able to write or at the very least contribute in some way to the history of Dickens that would be on display. Perhaps it was that he thought the man to be something of a hero. Having shrugged off all constraints or need for the approval of the great whole of society, he wrote profoundly of the injustices that so many others chose to overlook. Perhaps it was the small bit of flattery that Dickens had bestowed upon him unwittingly when he'd make comment in the presence of mutual friends of the secret writer of the growing Bohemian revolution. Dickens' words still brought a swell of pride whenever he thought of them.

He recited in his head, "it is a brave work of such philosopher to make such associations with brazen straightforwardness. I thinks the man who penned this verse to be of the most brilliant sort, and indeed he has taken the most prudent route of a pseudo name to ensure his life in the odd chance he be discovered and reprimanded by those whom he's so aptly charged for their callousness to the hearts of those who comprise the majority of this fine City."

He shook his head as he carefully executed the sharp turns in the path near the back of the Opera House. There had to be a way, there simply had to be a way to contribute, to alter, to ameliorate the injustice of not including his insight into the man's life. He walked on. A look of epiphany appearing in his eyes, "why did I not think of this before?" He smiled, his pace quickened. Yes, there was a way, and he knew precisely how…he'd learned from the best.

XXXXX

Erik lay in Christine's arms. It had been hours since she'd lifted him from his knees, took him into her arms and held him until he'd cried himself dry. He'd quit trying to imagine what Christine now thought of him. He'd stopped allowing his self-doubt to ruin the beauty of her acceptance. He was certain he would keep in his mind as long as he had breath, her words of comfort of acceptance. She was his young beautiful bride, but her spirit was much older…much older…much wiser. She'd whispered she loved him. She whispered she would care for him forever. She whispered he'd no need of her forgiveness. All those things he'd most needed to hear. He felt loved, cherished…understood, perhaps for the first time in his life. He lay still just listening to the beat of his own heart against the firm roundness of her protruding vessel. She was a wondrous creature indeed, and he…was a most blessed man.

Christine's hands wandered over Erik's shoulders methodically. She'd felt nearly every emotion she knew she had within her, and several more she dared say she'd never felt before. She'd pitied, loathed, seethed, raged, cried, hated, empathized, loved….all in the course of a few hours of darkness. How anyone could handle even one of the burdens that Erik had endured, she could not know. But, to have gone through such tragedy, and yet still have the capacity to love, to protect, to be thoughtful and tender….that was simply a miracle. Had it been she….she'd not have made it even through the first of the trials. In his brokenness he'd found his greatest strength. She gently pulled him closer in her arms, squeezing his shoulders slightly.

"Christine? Is everything alright my dear?" he said, making him realize just how dry his throat was, and how very long it had been since last they'd ate or drank.

"Yes Erik, everything is alright." She smiled, running her hand now up and down the length of his spine.

His skin began to tingle. Her gentle touch soothed him more than anything else in this world.

"I just wanted you to know…." She smiled as he nestled in a bit closer.

"And what was it that you wanted me to know Christine?" He smiled, closing his eyes as he pressed his head against her.

She smiled again, "that I love you."

Erik smiled. Yes danger lurked, and he knew just where his sword was if it were needed. Yes he had need to get to Nadir. Yes, there were many things that screamed for attention. But these moments, this precise moment, there was nothing more important than being there, with her…in her arms.

XXXXXX

There was a gentle knock on the door. "Sir?" came a voice through the door.

Nadir walked over to it, opening it seeing one man, and in the shadows, another form he could only assume was Raoul's sister. "Do come in dear, do come in."

She at once was relieved as the man guided her into the room, and left her in Nadir's company. Nadir was smiling, quickly allaying her fear that something grievous had happened to her father or brother.

"My dear, do not worry, though I do apologize for having had the men call you out from your slumber so late in the night." Nadir said as he took the cloak from her shoulders, putting down the night bag she'd packed, not knowing what she'd find when she arrived there.

"Nadir, it is lovely to see you again sir, but pray do tell, where is my brother, my father?" she said to him kissing him on the cheek as he led her from the outer foyer to the rooms that comprised Madame Giry's suite.

Nadir smiled, taking her arm in his. He'd not be spoiling even one gram of the surprise. He was glad that the walk to join the others was so short, lest his own exuberance give it away.

He opened the door, revealing the laughter, the books spread out along the tables and chairs. Her father happily sitting between Meg and Raoul, gesticulating with his arms the size and grandeur of what he was describing.

"Sister!" Raoul rose, going to her side, embracing her.

Meg stood back blushing just slightly, nodding in her direction. She could tell by the look in his sister's eye that she knew, even though she'd not been told.

"My sister, how very good of you to come," Raoul said happily, leading her back to the divan that sat opposite his, joining her with Madame Giry.

"Madame Giry, how lovely to see you," she leaned in hugging her politely.

The group all sat, Nadir pulling up one of the chairs off to the side. A general hush fell over them.

Raoul's sister smiled at him. Everyone was waiting for Raoul to tell her.

"My dear, dear sister. How I so long to tell you of the most splendid news." He took Meg's hand into his.

She was smiling broadly. She'd come to appreciate Meg's gentle spirit, and her lack of pretense. There was something to be said for an elegant young woman who could hold herself with poise and presence, without the pomposity that was so common in the aristocratic families. Too many young women put on airs, never really revealing who they truly were until after they'd already wed. Meg had been a breath of fresh air in that regard. She smiled again, she could imagine no finer a sister-in-law that she.

She stood, embracing a surprised Raoul.

"But I haven't even…." Raoul said with a smiling surprise.

She leaned back looking him in the eye, "brother, how long have I known you, did you think you could keep such happiness from me?" She smiled embracing him yet again.

Raoul grinned as a schoolboy. He'd no real worry that his sister would be disappointed in his choice. But it pleased him immensely that she'd embraced the idea with such zeal.

She let go of Raoul and made her way around the back of the divan to Meg's side, embracing her tightly. "It will be so good to have a fine young lady in the family my dear." She squeezed her yet again before leaning away and standing closely next to her, eyeing her father and brother. "It will be far better than you know to have an ally when the two of these men begin acting up!"

Raoul's father smiled at the pair of women. One his daughter by birth, one to be his daughter by marriage. Yes, there would be whispers in society about her lesser rank, her inferior birth, but he'd not a care now. He glanced at his son. Raoul was beaming as he stared at Meg. For the first in a very long time, he saw light in his son's eyes. Of one thing he was certain now…that Raoul would have a loving and devoted wife, and that he would be undeniably, unalterably happy. What more could a father truly want for his son? He walked over to join the ladies, taking Raoul by the hand.

The four embraced, a general family huddle ensued. There was laughter and yes a few tears, but mostly relief. Relief that now there was something happy to plan for. Relief that a decision was now made; the secret could be revealed.

Meg reached out and took Raoul's sister's hand. "I would like it very much if you would be willing…." She led her over to the books spread out on the table, "to help me with such things…I would be most honored." Meg smiled politely at her.

She beamed, "it would be both an honor and a pleasure my dear Meg. Weddings are such pleasant things. But when one captures a prince," she winked at Raoul, "a wedding of this sort must be a celebratory occasion indeed!" She squeezed Meg's hand. It would be a glorious summer. Planning such an event was a most pleasant diversion from all things normal. There had been such a somber tone to the City since Dickens' death, that it would be just the thing to brighten up the mood of the City when it was announced.

She sat next to Meg. "Timing is everything my dear. First we will allow the proper respects for Dickens' burial and mourning. The following week, when those who traveled here have left, and the streets once more belong to the Parisians, you shall make your announcement." She squeezed Meg's hands once more. The excitement in the room…it was electric.

XXXX

Andre settled Lady C once more into her room. She'd had a startle in her sleep, and a bit of conversation and a pot of tea had soothed her nerves. He wandered back to his own bedchamber, standing just gazing out the window.

One day if he and Misty were to marry, as he was most certain they would, and build a house in Chauesser, as Lady C was determined, he would have to leave her. Then in the middle of the night when she needed comfort, a confidante…he would not be there. He knew it was the normal course of things, and the mere prospect of taking a bride pleased him, but he had no want to leave the Lady without a companion. He sighed, looking back at his bed. He needed rest, for who knew what the day next would bring. He returned to it, pulling up the covers, he reached over and lifted an envelope from the nightstand. He'd re-read one of Misty's letters. It gave an entirely knew meaning to the expression sweet dreams. He smiled as he unfolded the parchment.


	216. Purposes

**Chapter 216 Purposes**

Dear faithfuls: Yet another chapter not long, but full of the sorts of things I wanted to give to you. My life, as I am certain, most of yours, has been very busy. I continue to be grateful for this opportunity, and will keep posting as often as I am able. I pray that everyone is well, and happy! Enjoy!

Malden made his way rather surreptitiously to the stable behind the inn. He'd no real idea what he was looking for aside from a family crest or other sort of thing that would give away the identity of the carriage. Why was she so bent on finding out more about this seemingly pleasant woman? His brow was furrowed in deep contemplation; it was the sort of thing he wondered in his mind but would never have felt so bold to inquire. The fate of those who were disobedient was certain, and though he'd have no fear of retribution whilst they were away from their homeland, upon return she'd not have a second thought of disposing of a thorn in her side.

As he crept into the stable he was calculating his ruse should he be discovered. Oh would that it be that he was Abbas. If he'd been Abbas, he'd not have needed such trickery. Abbas was an imposing man, the direct descendant of Abbas I who reigned Persia from 1587 to 1629, when Persia was at it height in power. It had been the progeny of that bloodline that had consumed with ease, Portuguese bases and thusly solidified the gulf in Persia. His descendents were feared and revered in their homeland, but it was the man's sheer size that wielded the power to intimidate the most would be inquisitor. The Sultana had a particular affection for this archfiend, and considered him among her highly prized conquests. He was a fixture in her palace at all hours of the day, and none questioned it.

She made no apology for her actions, and Malden was certain the woman was without conscience or soul. She'd hollowed he himself down to the bone, and with the exception of the rare occasion that he took pause to loathe her, he was void of nearly any feeling at all. Such was life spent at any length in the shadow of such a vile woman.

Malden slipped into the stable quietly; none seeming to have noticed him, for even the hound aloft in the hay mound slept on. Perhaps being a man of frail and diminutive size was for once to his advantage. Slowly, carefully, he made his way to the side of the woman's carriage. It was the most beautiful coach he'd seen outside of those that carried royalty; polished to a stunning sheen. The sides were devoid of crest, and nay were there any markings of any sort that would yield its identity or those that were carried in it. Certainly the grand appointment of such a fine carriage, was from a family of considerable means. He scratched at his head. The alternatives were few. Either it was a brand new carriage not having yet had opportunity to have a crest affixed, though he doubted it. Or, it was a family who guarded their privacy with great ferocity, and found it to the greatest advantage to display no family crest at all. He sighed, somewhere, there simply had to be…there had to be something.

His hands and eyes roamed the carriage below and above, nothing was to be found to betray its secrets. He paused at the door. There was so slight a chance that there would be anything inside, it was hardly worth the risk of entering. If he were found on the outside, he could feign admiration of such a fine carriage. If found inside, he'd be presumed a thief, and dealt with most severely. He sighed, pausing for only a moment before he opened the door and climbed in. Dealing with the consequences in such a City was likely to be far more pleasant that being subject to the woman's derision should he appear in her quarters without an inclination as to the owner.

The seats were expectedly plush, the black velvet that covered them seemed itself to have to have been brushed to a specific detail. He'd have to remind himself to smooth it once he was finished in his searching. Feeling about the roof, there was nothing save for the elegant molding around the door and windows. The benches revealed no more evidence. He sat for a moment in quiet contemplation.

He jerked abruptly as he heard distant sounds outside the carriage. A shadow cast on the outer wall, he could see the light from a lantern making its way into the carriage house. No doubt it was the night watchman come to be certain all was secure. Malden flattened himself as low as he could, sliding slowly to the floor of the carriage. He extended his arm, and yes, there was space below the carriage bench, just large enough for him to fit beneath. He wriggled himself as gently as he could lest his movement cause the carriage to jostle, giving him away. He sighed, having been under the bench just seconds before the light of the lantern shone inside. He held his breath as the lantern hesitated for a moment and then went on.

He exhaled silently, wiping the sweat from his brow. He wished more times than he could count, that he'd left Persia with his family years before. He'd naively thought it the greater honor to stay in service in the royal courts. Oh would that it be that he'd listened to the pleadings of his mother some years before; he'd even now be raising a family of his own. But he knew in his heart now, it was never to be. He was alive only because he proved to be of some advantage to the woman. Once his usefulness diminished, the standard letter would be writ and sent to his family notifying them of his untimely though honorable demise. He wished he could be anywhere, nearly anywhere but where he was. Even through his greatest efforts he'd found nothing. Surely she was awake and waiting for his return with something, and he'd have nothing to offer her. Unless Abbas had returned and was even now distracting her, he'd have no hope of any rest that night. She would rail him with his general uselessness until the wee hours of night gave way to morning.

He sighed. He'd have to wait now until he was certain the man had checked all of the carriages and left the stable before he'd even venture to the seat again and make his departure. His arm was bent at an uncomfortable angle, moving it slowly with intention of bringing it rest beneath his head, he slid it along the edge of the carriage floor. That is when his hand happened upon it. The something that might give him some reprieve that night. It was a handkerchief rimmed in lace, and he could feel on the top of its neatly folded surface, some sort of embroidery. He smiled to himself. It wasn't much, but at least he'd not return to her empty handed.

XXXXXX

John Paul and Nicole had bid their families good night. Nicole had taken Katherine aside, thanking her in great measure for her kindness.

Now as they strode toward not only what would become their family home, but their wedding bed, she shivered. It was not the cool air of the hours after midnight, but the thought that she was a wife….the wife of a man who loved her mother, and loved her. She'd not thought it possible…she'd thought that had passed her by. Her head was in the crook of where his arm met his shoulder, his arm protectively around her, his head atop hers as they walked in near perfect unison. As they came upon the park he strode not on toward their eventual destination, but toward the gazebo that was in the midst of the park. They'd spent so many spring evening there simply talking. It seemed only fitting that they pause there for just a moment, for he too could feel it…the feeling of not having fully prepared mentally for being wed that night. It was that hesitation that they'd both felt, trying to deny their attraction to one another, and even now though married, that barrier was somehow still there, a wall not easily taken down so quickly.

John Paul held her hand as she climbed the several steps into the center of the gazebo. Her shoes making ever-so-slight a sound on the wood planks of the floor as she walked to the center of it. She turned to see John Paul still at the entrance, just gazing up at her, smiling. She blushed, swallowed, and extended her hand to him. He glanced down, a broad smile crossing his face as he walked the stairs, closing the short distance between them, his eyes never leaving hers all the while. He now stood in front of her, the moonlight dancing across her face. He'd no want to close his eyes; she was what he desired both in shadow and in light. Though his own words having been revealed by his father about his wishes for a wife were true, he felt blessed. She was not only beautiful inside where it mattered most, but also outside for all the world to see.

He smiled, lifting his hand to the side of her cheek, tilting her head back just slightly. He leaned down pressing his lips tenderly against hers. He felt her shudder. Carefully, gently he wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing his cloak around them both. It would be a night to remember. He held her for a long while before he bent down, scooping her up into his arms. It was a tradition after all, a bride carried across a threshold by her groom. A leave of their old life now behind them, they were to embrace one another…and the life that now lay before them.

XXXXX

Christine had finally fallen asleep. Erik smiled as he watched her simply breathing in and out, her chest gently rising and lowering as the air entered and left her lungs. His hand rested on her abdomen. The children, at least one of them was awake, it's arm or leg moving about under her flesh. Erik had gone to her stomach talking, gently trying to woo the child into slumber but it had not deterred the baby from its movement. Erik smiled to himself, perhaps that one would be like his father, a creature of the night through and through. His circadian rhythm had never permitted a full night's rest, and perhaps it would be the same for this little one.

He sighed, a happy contented smile as he slid the warmer blanket over Christine's shoulder. Her earlier words of comfort to him floated through his mind as wispy strands of pure gold. When in his confessions, he'd said to her that no one could ever love him, truly love him, knowing what he'd been, what all of his life had contained. Her hand lovingly had slid beneath his tear soaked chin, lifting it so that she might look into his eyes…her gaze had soothed him, but it was her words that caused his heart to flutter…. "I am still here aren't I?"

A broad smile crossed his face…she was indeed there for him….mind, body, and soul. Perhaps it was his earlier sufferings that had caused the heavens to have pity on him, sending him Christine as his comforter, his love, his life. Whatever it had been, whatever fate had seen fit to bestow such a blessing, he was eternally grateful. He so wanted her to rest now, peacefully rest now. He was thirsty, and in truth a hunger had overtaken him, such as he shan't have realized until now.

Erik rose, taking great care not to disturb Christine's peaceful sleep. He'd wander to the lower floors, checking first on Erphan. Though he was hungry, it was his curiosity regarding Erphan's recovery that truly propelled him out of such comfort and quiet. The young man had been a faithful aide, and he'd want to see to sending for the doctor now that the storm had subsided.

Quietly he made his way through the house, being ever watchful, ever mindful of every window. He still felt a great bit of unease at the thought that that beast or at the very least her henchmen were somewhere not far from there. Truly, there was a great distance between Courtland Manor and the winter house, but it would not have taken a great deal of cunning to follow his staff from there to here.

Erik lighted on the last stair looking down the hallway. The door to the room where Erphan lay was open slightly, and the eldest maid stood peeking in. Erik moved toward her.

She barely flinched as she saw him come. She smiled, nodding toward the inner room, then retreated towards the kitchen.

Erik cocked his head slightly. Whatever had made the woman smile so? He walked to the door, peering in as he'd seen the woman do, and then it struck him; her reaction made perfect sense. For there in the room lay Erphan sprawled out on the divan, and Misty, his hand held in hers, bent over at the waist, her forehead resting against his. Erik smiled. It had been the first time he'd seen such affections of others so closely, well, the true innocent affections.

He slid the door open slightly, slipping inside the room. His eyes wandered over to the smaller divan that lay off to the side. He made easy work of moving it to the other side of the room, closer to Erphan. Misty had indeed done as he'd requested and stayed with Erphan to keep close watch. Now, it was time for her to rest, and it would appear from what he now say, that she perhaps shan't wish to leave his side until she was certain that he'd be on his way to mending.

Gently Erik took Misty's hand from Erphan. Her tired was even greater than he imagined, for she didn't even seem to notice as Erik scooped her up into his arms carrying her the few steps to the other divan, alighting her there with the soft cover of a blanket.

Erik's attentions now turned to Erphan. He checked his pulse, inspected the red welt on his head, and once more glanced over what skin was laid bare. It appeared he had suffered, but by watching carefully, Erik could tell he would be well again. His eyes moved rapidly beneath his lids; he was dreaming…a very good sign indeed. Erik rose, walking back toward the door, turning just before he left. He smiled. Perhaps love had grown in yet another unusual place. On the morrow, he'd have to ask Misty of it, for what he saw in those hours, looked more akin to the love of a woman for a man, than that of mere friends. He closed the door behind him as he left the sleeping pair.

Glancing down the corridor, he saw the woman beckoning him. She'd a little something for him. After all she had said that she'd have something ready when the storm had passed.

Upon entering the kitchen, he was greeted with the most wondrous of scents. The woman was not to be found, but in the center of the large table was a tray laid full. Two domed plates, and several smaller. A pot of tea, several cups, and the necessary utensils for two. He felt the side of the challis, the milk, no doubt intended for Christine, was cool. He smiled as he lifted the tray. A meal consumed in the after midnight had no title at all. He'd call it a bit of necessity. They would no doubt sleep long beyond a normal breakfast, and this sustenance would see to their comfort. He glanced over at the stove as he left the kitchen. A very large pot simmered on it. No doubt there would be some sort of stew on the morrow…remnants from a meal that never was from the night before.

There was an odd sort of pleasantness as he made his way through the dark shadowed halls of Courtland Manor. It was his house, yet sometimes he still felt like a visitor there. It was appointed with every item that had pleased him, cared for impeccably, and as he glanced around he could see shadows of both the past and future. Christine with child, and yet with children clinging to her skirt as she went about. He smiled as he mounted the stairs. One day, not that far from then, the halls of that house would hear the crying in those same hours of young babes, and he was determined to be there…be there to help Christine with every second of it.

XXXXX

Lucien had been writing for a long while. Tonight he'd returned to his abode with a renewed vigor. He'd felt torn for but a short time, before he'd decided upon dedicating those hours to writing of Dickens and not the revolution. His Bohemian friends had garnered a great deal of his time, and he was certain even they would not begrudge him a few nights reprieve. He'd scrawled several pages of detailed notes. Things about Dickens that he himself knew, had observed first-hand. Those were the intimate details that this other man, this Nadir, this foreigner, could never capture. It was what came of spending considerable, if however indirectly, with Dickens as he went about his daily life in Paris. It was an odd thing he'd taken note, that there was something vastly more powerful about writing of someone's life posthumously, as if it were taken more seriously because the person themselves could neither refute nor confirm its validity. He sat down his pen, wiping the ink from the tip and closed the well of ink. He was satisfied now that he'd put on paper what he'd been lamenting. Perhaps after is anonymous delivery to the author of Dickens tribute, he'd be able to sleep more soundly.

XXXXX

Nicole's mother was tucked into bed; John Paul's father and the priest had gone to their rest. Kathryn and her fiancé busied themselves putting the flat back in order after the festivities. Kathryn smiled to herself as she washed the dishes that he collected and brought to her. Nicole deserved every happiness. Her smile grew wider as she thought of what pleasure Nicole would have as she walked into the room that had been prepared for her. Flower petals, champagne, fine chocolates, and candles lighting nearly every corner. Tonight her dear friend would become the wife that she knew…that she'd always dreamed of being.

XXXX

Raoul's sister and father had gone on to rest in the rooms that had hastily been prepared for them. Raoul had taken Meg's hand and led her out onto the veranda outside of her mother's quarters. Raoul would join his father in a short while, but Raoul had need to spend just a brief visit alone with his newly betrothed.

The pair stood overlooking the sleeping City of Paris. Raoul's arms were protectively wrapped around Meg's shoulders as he stood behind her, his head pressed against the side of her temple. So little need be said. There was a settled calm between them that needed no words to be conveyed.

Raoul felt like he'd grown a dozen years in less than one; feeling far more certain of his choices now than he had ever been. In but a week's time, the City would be abuzz with the news of their engagement, and they would have not a moment's privacy. Right now they could relish it, bask in its glow, unify their spirits so that when the public onslaught began, they would be ready for it.

Meg would likely have the majority of the sideways glances, glares and jeers from would be hopefuls. She indeed would bear the lion's share of the burden. He was gladdened that his sister had agreed to take Meg under her wing, as he knew she would. His sister was at once a tender and strong spirit, and quite capable of seeing Meg through what only another woman could understand. There would be a great deal of whisper and speculation, and she would be the object of conversation. He knew that all the months of preparation would be put to good use in the coming ones. Meg was strong. Meg was supported. They were both ready. He loved this woman, and in but a weeks time, all of Paris would be certain of it.

He leaned down and kissed Meg's temple, wrapping his arms tighter around her still. "Meg, dearest Meg," he whispered in her ear, "in but a few months you shall be liken to a princess," he tilted her chin panning her face to the skyline of Paris that was just beginning to take on a slight pink tint as the sun was breaching the eastern horizon, "and this City will become like your kingdom to roam." He kissed her temple, turning her around in his arms, looking deeply into her eyes.

"My dear, dear, Meg…" he kissed the tip of her nose, and then her forehead, embracing her, "we must rest my love. Tonight you go to your slumber knowing that Meg Giry, though an honorable creature in her own right, will one day, very soon, be Vicomtess Meg DeChangy."

Meg smiled, nestling her head against Raoul's chest. His words, and soothing tone were like listening to a glorious symphony…playing only for her.

XXXXX

Misty startled. Finding herself reclined, she sat straight up, looking around feverishly, her heart pounding in her chest. She looked down, she was covered in a thick blanket. She blinked…hadn't the divan she even now lay on been over there, she looked across the room to find the place empty. She turned sharply looking over at Erphan. Though his coverings were a bit rearranged, he was in the same position that he'd been when she could last remember being at his side, leaning over…praying…sitting in that chair! She looked down again. She knew with absolute certainty that she'd not done this herself for she could never have moved the divan! She looked at Erphan again…he couldn't have…there was no other though…she swallowed. She slid her legs over the side of the divan, letting her feet dangle. She looked down, where were her….she looked over the side, there her shoes lay tucked neatly beneath the divan. She rubbed her hand along her head. Had she imagined….what had she….no there was….but how? She shook her head, she did not know how she'd found herself on the divan.

She swallowed again, now wide awake she looked over at Erphan. He looked slightly more comfortable than he had when last she'd looked at him. Perhaps now he slept, the normal sleep any would have that hour of the day. She stood and began to fold the blanket that had been over her. She'd really no idea how long she'd been there, though her back complained of the strain of having sat so long in one place, a likely sign she'd not been reclined for too long a time.

Misty knew she shan't think she would be able to rest again, but what to do? She'd no want to wander to the kitchens, for she'd no hunger. She could go to her quarters, but even that did not appeal to her. She pursed her lips and stared around the room; perhaps she would read until she felt relaxed enough to rest again. There certainly was no lack of material, the conundrum was always which author, which sort of story, fiction or fact. None of the books that had made their way into Monsieur Courtland's library would be dull, for he'd excellent taste in literature.

Misty rose, walking quietly toward the door. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of it, the linen bag she'd promised to deliver to Monsieur Courtland. She glanced toward the window, the sun was not yet rising beyond just a crest but she thought she might wander to the upper floors, delivering the bag just inside their door so that it not be found and rifled through by other members of the household. When the sun was fully risen, the staff would be setting about to organize the house and surely Erphan's belongings would be sorted, washed, and resettled into his quarters. Erphan had felt strongly about the contents of the bag, strongly enough that in all of the concerns he might have had considering the present circumstances he wanted her to promise to deliver them to him and him alone.

Misty slowly strode over to the linen bag, lifting it from the floor. She turned, Erphan slept on. She smiled, it surprised her…she was smiling, nay looking at him with different eyes now. She slipped out of the door and up the stairs to the second floor and down the long hall that led to the master chamber. She was encouraged when she saw light leaking out from under the door, it was likely that someone was awake. She made her way quietly to the door, and indeed she heard a cough, and what she was certain was the clattering of china. She leaned her head down, feeling guilty for disturbing them at that hour. Her hand rose and fell several times tentatively as she debated, deciding in the end that she was there, and she was both keeping a promise to Erphan, and reporting to Monsieur Courtland on his progress.

Erik turned hearing the faint knock on the door. His heart pounded as he walked toward the door. Was it someone to report that they'd an intruder? Was it Erphan, had he taken a turn? He opened the door just slightly, having put his thoughts on the proximity of his sword; should it be needed, it was but two bounds away.

"Monsieur?" Misty said as the door opened and the man peered out through the crack, nearly looking through and over her before his eyes met hers.

"Is everything alright Misty?" Erik said quietly so as not to disturb Christine.

"Yes Monsieur, I've come to report that Erphan seems to be doing well. I've…"

Erik was nodding, "yes, yes, I've just been to visit him." He looked at her weary face and smiled. "You young miss ought to be resting yourself. When I came in you were hunched above Erphan in a most awkward position."

Misty's eyes grew wide, "Monsieur…did you…the divan…I was…"

Erik smiled, "Misty, you are a most devoted member of our household, I shan't have you losing all rest due to a request that I made that you keep a watchful eye on Erphan. Yes," he reassured her, "it was I who moved the divan, and brought you a cover."

Misty was blushing. "Thank you most kindly, I had begun to wonder if I'd taken leave of my good senses sir!" she said with a coy inflection in her voice.

"You are most welcome. Please do tell me you'll go off and rest yourself now that he is doing well."

Misty nodded, "yes Monsieur…" she turned then quickly turned back. "Monsieur, before he'd fallen deeper into sleep, Erphan asked me, nay, made me promise that I'd deliver this to you straightaway." She handed the linen bag to him.

"What is this?" Erik said, immediately tensing, he'd seen this sort of thing done before in Persia….had Erphan unknowingly brought something with him into the house he wondered.

"Monsieur, Erphan told me only that it was something from the physician in Chauesser," she shook her head a bit, "he said it was something you'd left behind several months ago at the Inn."

Erik's eyes grew wider, though he tried to fight it. The only thing that came to mind that he'd have left there were the books that the woman had insisted he take. In all that had ensued that day, they had been the last thing on his mind when he'd left. He swallowed, blinking several times as he took the bag from her hand, glancing over his shoulder to see that Christine still slept. He turned back to Misty. "Thank you Misty, it is most gracious of you to bring those to me."

She nodded as she turned slightly to go. "Is there anything else that I might do for you?" She inquired. If not she would happily go on to her quarters and try to rest.

"No, you go on to a most deserved rest." He nodded to her. "Thank you for taking such care of Erphan Misty, I am certain he will be grateful." He looked at her, a small smile growing on his face as she blushed and looked toward the floor. "He is a most special young man…wouldn't you agree Misty?" He watched her reaction carefully.

Misty's cheeks felt hot, and she could not look up, her feelings confusing even her. "Yes Monsieur….yes he is." She smiled and nodded, turning to leave before she embarrassed herself further.

Erik smiled as he closed the door. Misty indeed did have feelings beyond friendship for Erphan. As far as he was concerned, he thought they may be a very good match.,

His attentions now turned to the bag in his hand. She'd wanted so desperately for him to have the books. He might as well set about finding out why.


	217. And So It Begins

Chapter 217 And So It Begins 

Dear Faithfuls:

Painful short chapter alert….it has been another interesting week, this time we've auditor's in our agency all week (the equivalent of having the IRS wake you from your sleep in the middle of the night!) So I've been burning the candle straight through a few evenings. I promise two chapters for next week…you have my solemn vow. I thought it better to give you something, however painfully short, than to hear nothing but silence. Enjoy!

"10, April. Agreed on a sum. It shan't be much work, but the deception shall be more treacherous than I can now even imagine. Forgiveness, should I ever be found out, will not be mine. Days, weeks only are likely, though I cannot be certain, for I've never….it shan't be long. Heaven have mercy on us all. What shall haunt me forever is the wailing, the pleading. No heart, no matter how callous, would surely not break under such conditions. Exact size is hard to determine with no instruments, but is seemingly ordinary. Save for the one hideous thing it would have been so very different."

Erik sat the book down on the divan next to him. No year, no real information of revelation; just curiously cryptic language eluding in the most vague of manners to some event or thing that had obviously been done with great secrecy. It puzzled him greatly. Why the books? If one were to be so vague…was it worth the effort of dipping the pen in the ink?

His head slightly lowered. He was tired. He glanced over at Christine; she was resting so peacefully, he'd no want to disturb her. He glanced back toward the books. It was the oddest thing, the manner with which it was writ, the lack of emotion…there was something haunting about it. He pressed his eyes closed. He needed rest, he needed sustenance, he needed…he needed her.

He sighed heavily. It had been the most difficult, most magnificent, most painful night he'd ever lived. To be that revealed, that open, that loved….that forgiven…that spent…he sighed…was…releasing. He felt something akin to a great lion having a thorn removed from its paw by the gentle hands of a fairy. His own claws making the task impossible, but her delicate hands had touched him, removing with great ease, the thorn that had so deeply imbedded itself that it had nearly become a permanent part of him. He closed the book, tucking it back into the linen sack. Walking over he put it in the box seat beneath the window. He'd return to it on the morrow…now all he could think of was returning…returning to her.

He climbed in next to Christine. His hand tracing her outline; his eyes searching her face. She was his. This splendid, tender, creature was his. He smiled widely. The baby was awake again, tossing about beneath her flesh. Erik watched Christine's face. She could sense the movement, though it did not wake her…she was ever mindful. Erik's hand rested above the child. It would not be many months now when he could whisk the child away in his arms off to another room so that her mother could sleep in peace. He smiled, not long at all.

XXXXXX

Malden made his way up the back stairs to the quarters that had been prepared for him. The light in her room had been extinguished. What fortune he thought; perhaps he'd have peace until the sun rose. He sat down heavily on the side of his own bed. He'd no need for light now, he was only to undress and then climb beneath the coverings. He rubbed at his eyes, stretched and stood, and began removing his outer coat; un-tucking the tails of his shirt.

"Surely you did not return empty handed…" A dark voice came from the shadowy corner in the furthest reaches of the room.

Malden grabbed at his chest as if he would fall dead to the floor from the fright. His breathing was labored as his heart pounded. "You…I…" he gasped, lifting his coat, digging into the depths of the inner pocket. "Here," he extended his hand. She would come to him, that was simply her way.

"What trifle have brought me?"

He heard her moving across the floor. He'd been mistaken, perhaps rest would be an illusion. He felt her snatch the cloth from his hand. It was a mere offering, surely not enough to satisfy her, but it was all he had. He sat back down on the side of the bed as he listened to her move toward the window with the token. He looked over. She stood tall, and had a most regal silhouette; the darkness of the shadow obscured her truth. She was beguiling, beseeching, betraying, and few had ever survived beyond her grasp. He closed his eyes. Even now in this journey, it had been that very thing that motivated her. It was the one she'd never conquered, that had never surrendered, that she'd never possessed. Malden's breathing was shallow.

She wanted what she could not have. She wanted those painting for her collection, and this time she'd not be so easily dissuaded. She might not have been able to have the man whose hands had painted them, but she would have whatever part of him she could lay her hands on. Of one thing Malden was certain, she'd not rest until they belonged to her…even if blood would flow to that end. This time she'd not leave Paris until they came with her.

He put his head in his hands. His only real hope of peace was that Abbas had found the art dealers, retrieved what she'd already paid for, and had brought them when he returned. If fortune had not smiled on Abbas, Paris would be witness to the murder of an elder woman if not the next evening, then certainly the following. The Sultana would not be turned away so easily again.

He wanted to sleep, but the fear of even suggesting it kept him silent. He would be permitted to sleep…when she decided.

XXXX

Sebastian had not slept for days. Each time his head had snapped forward in surrender to the tidal wave of desperate lust for sleep, fear threw his neck straight up, his eyes wide and wild.

He rubbed his eyes. They'd been open so long, the fluid had evaporated from every surface of them; they felt like they were on fire. His mind had rummaged every terrible thing he'd ever done; guilt was now his only companion, save the fear that seized him in waves. The one question that he murmured over and over again under his breath…. "Why hasn't Pyotr come for me?"

He glanced at the hulk of a man that sat at the end of the long chain of cells. He slept, snored, drooled…he hadn't a worry in the word…and at once, Sebastian envied him vehemently.

XXXXX

The shopkeeper jumped down from the steed he'd rode up on. The yard seemed to be devoid of occupants. He hoped at once he'd been led on a fruitless venture that would result in nothing more than his re-latching the gate that now flapped in the wind. The carriage that had arrived from the tiny hamlet just north of Chauesser had told story of hearing the shot of a gun, and a scream, but all seemed well enough. What they'd thought to be a the force of powder exploding in the steel barrel of a gun was most likely the very sound of the iron latch that banged against the wood from the gate. Nevertheless, he felt compelled to check. Monsieur Courtland had been his best patron, and indeed had become something of a respected figure, and fodder for whisper in the town.

He made his way to the gate, the iron latch noticeably bent from the forceful beating it had endured from the wind. He struggled with it to no avail. He looked back at his horse, immediately wishing he'd brought his carriage, for a store of tools lay in it's belly that would have been put to good use just now. He scratched his chin. He'd stocking to do at the mercantile. He glanced toward the building behind the house. Perhaps he could find something there to prop the gate closed to save it from further damage until he could return in the morning to repair it properly. He opened the gate and passed through it toward the carriage house.


	218. Different Types of Love

Chapter 218 Different Types of Love 

Dear faithfuls:

So very much has been going on in my life, much to much to explain. I am humbled that so many have reached out to make sure I was o.k. you truly are the nicest people I have ever encountered in the world. Do not worry, I promised from the beginning I would never abandon the story until it was finished, and I continue to make that promise. I will update at least once next week. I've slotted four hours on Sunday to dedicate to celebrating this great love of one of the most special couples in all of literary history (in my opinion) Christine and Erik deserve to have resolution…and so…I promise…they shall.

Take care, and God bless until next week!

John Paul unlatched the heavy iron as they arrived at the door. He looked down into Nicole's eyes. He had not expected this privilege of carrying her across the threshold that night, as his wife, though now in his arms he knew it to be fate. For how he would have been disappointed if she'd had to cross it in the light of day with no sense of love or formality. But then again, he'd not expected that the newness of their marriage would be sanctified that night…the night of their union, and certainly not for months to come. He did not want to divide nor compete with the attentions Nicole needed to dedicate to her mother. "I love you Nicole," he paused, "Nicole Perdue…" he smiled at her drawing her closely he whispered it again into her ear… "I love you…welcome home."

Tenderly he kissed her jaw, and then her cheek before setting his lips against hers. Slowly he pushed the door open with his shoulder, crossing the threshold, altering forever the lives of those that passed if not formally, then certainly symbolically into the next chapter of their lives. His head jerked slightly to the side as he lowered Nicole to her feet. He'd expected the rooms to be dark, for he'd not recalled being so careless as to have left a lamp burning. Instinctively he drew her into his protective embrace. He looked down at Nicole; she was smiling up at him, leaning her head into his chest.

"Do not worry my John, it was Katherine…some day I shall explain…" At once regret seized her…she'd left the garment box her mother had given her at the flat. A look of disappointment swam across her face.

John Paul ran his hand along her chin, "whatever is it Nicole…" inside he hoped he'd not rushed her…was it too soon…this thing that was so new.

"It is just," she blushed, glancing downward, "a box, nothing really," inside she ached. How it had come to her she would never be certain, but she knew it had been at great cost, and now not to have such a garment for what was surely to come…saddened her. Though he'd not have expected that she have such a thing, under present circumstances, but she was sad that she'd been so careless as to forget such a gift.

"Do you need me to return for it?" He looked on at her disappointment. He'd do anything to please her.

"No…." she sighed slowly, looking up into his eyes. They were so warm, so loving, so reassuring. It did not matter what she wore. What mattered, as that by some mystery they had found one another, and that night, that very night, she embraced a life she'd thought to have passed her by. "No…" she lowered her head, reaching out for his hand. Silently she took it, leading him on toward where she could see a faint glow. She knew Katherine had been there before them, and could only imagine what she would find, once she passed through the doors to his bedchamber…their bedchamber.

John Paul leaned down, pressing his chin against her temple, inhaling, the very scent of her hair was exhilarating. He'd followed Nicole to the door.

She hesitated, turning to look up at him, a slight pleading in her eyes…she was suddenly frightened. She'd not prepared, she'd done nothing to be ready for that night, and secretly she hoped he'd not sense it…though her hesitation would certainly betray her.

He glanced down into her eyes, smiling he bent at the knee pulling her up into his arms once more, placing a tender kiss on her lips. "Mrs. Perdue…I love you…" he himself hesitated before he said "have you any want to wait?" his heart ached at the mere uttering of it hoping she did not think that he did not want her in all of her fullness as his bride.

Nicole's heart was leaping, it was all so close, her senses heightened, she felt a rush of warmth on her cheeks. Silently she shook her head no, nestling it into his chest as she looked up into his eyes.

He smiled, lowering his face slowly until his lips joined hers. With his shoulder he pushed at the door that separated their room from the remainder of the house. It gave way easily, as if it was expecting them.

Nicole's face turned toward the room as they entered. She smiled. Katherine had not missed a thing. The bed was covered in rose petals, every corner was lighted with a hurricane lamp, a bottle of wine and two glasses adorned with white ribbon sat at its side. The bed itself had been covered in a sheer white covering from the four posters, drawn back with satin ribbon and crowned with bunches of white hydrangea tucked neatly in the folds of the ribbons that reached down to the floor. The room was completely transformed, looking as if it were awaiting royalty.

Her eyes suddenly caught on a small chair in the corner, not far from a dressing screen that had been brought in from another room. There on the chair, lay the delicate garment her mother had given her. It was draped and awaiting the bride.

As John Paul allowed Nicole's feet to alight once more on the floor, she turned into his arms, kissing his cheek. "May I have a moment…"

He smiled at her, kissing the end of her nose. Whatever she asked of him that night, he would surely give to her. "By all means my wife…whatever you have need of, you've only to ask."

Nicole's hand slowly slipped from his, walking to the chaise, lifting the garments into her arms, she disappeared behind the dressing screen.

John Paul inhaled, exhaling, his eyebrows raising as he loosened his cravat. The night had been a surprise, though it is exactly where his heart had led him….he smiled…oh how right his grandfather had been.

He removed his jacket, laying it aside on the chair, he sat to remove his shoes. He smiled, he could hear Nicole behind the dressing screen moving about. All this would one day become familiar to him, but to this point in his life, he was unaccustomed to hearing anyone else in his bedchamber as he readied himself to retire. Her sounds would become his, and the two would blend into a wonderful routine. He smiled again, his eyes aglow. He was a husband…a husband… He sat there pondering the thought, his eyes cast toward the floor in deep thought until he sensed something…sensed her. His eyes wandered slowly along the floor toward the screen that had separated them. He inhaled slowly as his gaze reached the trail of a long white lace garment. His eyes traveled up from her feet toward her waist, her shoulders, her face. She was blushing, and secretly inside he said to himself…what he had always wanted…a blushing bride. "Oh Nicole…" he stood walking toward her slowly so as not to frighten her. She took a few tentative steps forward of her own until at last they met, their hands quickly intertwining. They stood looking into one another's eyes for a great while. Then, without a word, John Paul lifted Nicole from her feet and carried her off to their wedding bed. It would truly be a night to remember.

XXX

The shopkeeper walked toward the carriage house. In the hours before morning broke, the field was alive with every manner of life chirping, hissing, buzzing, trying desperately to take its place in nature. The man's footsteps decidedly interrupting the nightly rhythm of things as he made his way.

He stopped, thinking for a moment, then shaking his head. If his mind had not deceived him, he would have thought to have heard the neigh of a horse that was not his own. He was causing himself fright just from the mere circumspection that some foul act or another had take place in the abandoned house. He laughed at his own folly as he reached the door, finding it too to be unlatched. "Most unusual," he said under his breath, fear anew creeping up his spine. Perhaps there had been an intruder…

His breathing grew shallow, his heart pounding as he lifted the barrel of his gun with one hand, propping it across the other wrist as he walked closer to the door. If there was indeed an intruder, they would not be getting the best of him that night. Immediately wishing he'd already lit his lantern, he could smell something, hear a buzzing sound. He moved in slightly inside the door, he moved slowly, listening…listening….listening…but there was no sound. He breathed a sigh of relief. Surely if someone had been there, they were not there now.

He'd go about latching the fence and the carriage house door, and be on his way. He hoped to get a few hours rest before the excruciating hour came when he had to rise and begin to prepare his mercantile. He moved toward where a ledge would normally be to sit the lantern down so as to light it. As he took tentative steps forward he heard a creak beneath his feet. He paused, listened…still nothing. He reminded himself that he was all alone, and he'd nothing to fear. Taking yet a few more steps forward his foot caught on the edge of some large object. He kicked at it with his foot…was that a boot? Slowly he lowered himself toward the ground, reaching out with his hand. Inside he was angered that he'd worked himself up into such a state, it was most likely something left behind when they'd left. His hand reached out, coming to rest on a boot. His brow furrowed as his hand wandered in the darkness up from the sole. He gasped, standing and stumbling backwards in his horror. Indeed, it was attached to a human leg. He scrambled out the door, nearly impaling himself with his gun as he flung the doors of the carriage house wide open.

His hands shook with such great fear that he nearly dropped the match as he lit the lantern, the flame immediately casting an eerie glow in the yard outside the building. He gasped again, raising the lantern high above him, turning frantically this way and that. He'd heard it again, he was certain, a horse neighing, but his eyes fell on nothing that was within the expanse of the light cast from the lantern. He shook his head, turning once more to focus on the carriage house doors. He'd no idea who or how many might be inside, but he'd have to venture within if he'd want to know the answer.

Slowly he took small steps, his heat beating in the temples of his head, he nearly thought he would lose consciousness. His eyes were wide as he entered the carriage house, the walls of the structure confining the glow, focusing it to a brighter state. His eyes grew wider still when he looked down at the large man that lay bloodied and dead at his feet. He'd never seen the likes of such a man in all his recollection, and it was terrifying. His breath came in stuttered shakes as he lifted the lantern above his head, nearly too afraid to look at the rest of the carriage house for fear of what he might find. Though there was no evidence of any others, the very presence of such a quantity of blood would give rise to wonder.

Slowly he backed away, hearing the mysterious sounds of a horse again, he dropped the lantern and made haste to his own, leaping upon its back he dug his heels into the beast's sides as he thrust the horse forward towards Chauesser. It had not been the imagination of the passers by, a heinous crime had indeed taken place there. The third death in association with the man or his property. Perhaps the undertaker, before his removal, had been on to something.

XXXXX

Nicole's mother lay awake, her face relaxed, her mind wandering. Tonight she breathed a bit more normally. Perhaps it had been the wine, or maybe it was the inner peace that she felt knowing that Nicole was happy, that she was married, that she was loved. What a blessing it had been that Katherine had been there, that John Paul's father had arrived, and that all had been able to seize that moment, together.

She smiled, rolling over on her side to glance out the window. The sky was beginning to take on a faint pink hue, just as it always did before the fullness of morning set in. Oh how she remember that night that she was married. What wonder it had all been. She closed her eyes. There was nothing quite as beautiful as the beginning of a happily ever after.

XXXX

Misty's head jerked once more erect. "Erphan?" crossing her lips before her eyes were even open. She looked down. His head was resting peacefully in her lap. She'd told Monsieur Courtland that she'd go off to bed when she'd returned to the lower floors, but she'd not been able to resist returning to his side. Confused or not about her newly revealed feelings from and for this man, she cared about him as a friend, a companion of as many years as she had been there. His wellbeing seemed to have taken on a new significance.

Her hand reached down brushing the wisps of hair from his brow. Her palm roaming his forehead. It felt cool, normal. He looked so peaceful, and save for the red mark on his forehead, and the blisters about his lips, he looked to be no more than resting. His body had fought a good fight, and if she were to guess, she would say he was well on his way to mending. Indeed those first hours were the critical ones, and he'd weathered through them….neigh, they'd weathered them together.

She blinked, she refocused her eyes, had his lips moved? She leaned down even closer, looking at his mouth. She shook her head. Surely it had been her imagination. "Erphan?" Her fingers running lightly through his hair. She watched for a response, but none came. She shook her head; it had been a foolish thought.

Her eyes roamed the room. The inflowing sunlight announced the breaking of a new day. Through the coverings on the windows in the room where they sat, the light was a muted pink. With the dawn would come the opportunity to see what damage had befallen Courtland Manor; there was certain to be a great deal of work to do. She looked once more down at Erphan. Today he would be spared from his duty. She turned her palm toward her, running her forefinger across his cheek. She leaned down whispering to him, "I've delivered the books to the Monsieur," she paused, thinking again to see movement of his lips. "Erphan?" Her eyes grew wider, she could not bring herself to blink, lest she miss it.

Erphan's chest rose, trying to draw in air, it stopped abruptly under the palm of her hand that now rested on it. He began to cough.

Misty's eyes grew even wider. She slid her arms beneath him, pushing with all of her might on his back until she'd turned him enough that she could cradle his torso, laying his head on the rolled cushion of the divan.

He wrenched several times, his hand flying instinctively to the red mark on his forehead. His eyes not yet opened, had began to spring effusively, his salted tears running down the sides of his face.

Misty rubbed her hand along his shoulder as she reached out for the glass of water that sat all night in wait for him. Stale though it may be after such time, it would still be a welcome wetness to his surely parched throat. "Here, drink," she commanded, carefully pressing the glass along his lips.

Erphan drew in the first small sip of water, and slowly is hand raised to grasp the glass. The water tasted like nectar to him, so great was his thirst.

"Erphan, be careful…you'll choke!" Misty said, tugging at the glass.

He let it easily slip from his hand as he looked up a where he was, and with whom he was. He began to relax back into he lap. He felt like he'd been thrashed by a harsh wind and barrel of sand. He looked up into her eyes, slowly blinking, she was smiling…she was smiling for him.

XXXXX

Lady C sat at the small table in her room. She'd sampled from the small platter of preserves and brioche that had been brought to her. She'd not much of an appetite. The woman from the night previous…aside from her manners, there was something even more disturbing about her. Disturbing enough that it had kept her up the vast majority of the night.

She closed her eyes, she wanted nothing more than to be back in Chauesser, back in the comfort of her own home. She leaned her head back against the tall back of the chair. Dickens passing had been a difficult one for all those that appreciated his work, and had waited for the arrival of his next. She was disgusted by the worry she'd paid her own discomforts. She sat up, straightening her dress a bit, and took a sip from the cup that sat on the table just to the right of her. She'd kept a stiff upper lip all of her life…she inhaled, closing her eyes. This would be no different.

XXX

Erik had returned to the bedchamber. His earlier haste to remove them had proven to be hasty, for certainly now they'd have a bit more time. If the javelin had been found at the winter house, there was a certain but good chance that they'd not been followed all the way to Courtland Manor for if they had, he knew the beasts methods, and she'd have delivered a killing strike before morning light. She was never one to plot or stake out, she preferred a clean kill, swift and sure when she was directly involved. He was certain now they'd at least have the day to plan, but he was certain, by first morning light on the morrow, they would be en route to their next destination…and that would be Paris.

He climbed back into the bed, nestling against the warmth of Christine. She moaned slightly as he put his arm around her middle. A compassionate looked washed over him as he began to slowly caress her protruding mid-section. She never complained, but when he watched her sleep…he knew her discomforts. He kissed her shoulder. "Not long now my love…soon this will all be over, and those babes will be in our arms." He nestled his cheek against her neck. He would continue to lay his hand on his family, for though he knew yet only one…he loved them all.


	219. Ties That Bind

Chapter 219 Ties That Bind 

Dear faithfuls:

I will update again next week. I hope to make use of the extra day in this holiday weekend to do a bit of catching up. Have a great weekend!

Raoul woke; looking around the tidy room he'd been put to rest in. He blinked looking up at the ceiling. He'd never slept in the Opera House…had never intended to sleep in the Opera House, after all he was the Patron, and an honorable man… He glanced over. In the bed next to his was his father. He doubted that this man had ever slept in such humble surroundings unless he'd no choice on his many travels. The walls were a plain muted tone of a calming ivory. The room contained simple appointments, two beds, two dressing tables, two wardrobes, two dressing screens, and a single large window with a seat built in to take advantage of the space and the view. Save for that and a large mirror on one wall, this was all the room contained.

"How odd" he thought to himself, that someone would be satisfied with this existence, that this would be someone's entire life. His eyebrow rose, for some, it was a dream come true, an ideal come to fruition. He sighed, this was but one of several dozen rooms just like it, all arranged now to contain at its fullness, the very lifeblood of the Opera Populaire. Something in him was saddened. The current arrangement was a vast improvement over the dormitories that had previously sheltered the young women whose lives were dedicated to the ballet, and Madame Giry's instruction, and yet, in comparison to his own luxury, it seemed a cruel disparity. It was the first time in his entire life he'd taken pause to consider it, and something inside of him ached.

There were so very many things in this life that did not seem fair. Since his mother's death, he'd not taken time to appreciate the differences fully. She had tried to instill in him a sense of justice, a sensitivity to those whose circumstances had been less fortunate…..his father had done everything to make him remember only his position in society, and that to ignore his position was to cause upset to the hierarchy of things that had dominated society for as long as he could recall. To upset the balance, the nature of things would be cruel, his father had taught him. At least in this structure everyone knew their part, their place. To do anything to disturb such balance would be a greater travesty.

Raoul shook his head. The two had looked at life so very differently, both thinking their own way to be right. He inhaled allowing his eyes to roam the room once more. They rooms were simple, but adequate. He smiled thinking now of the original architect, and how forward a thinker he must have been considered for his time. For as much as society had its separations in the present day, certainly when the Opera Populaire had originally been erected, that entrenchment would have been far greater. To have given opera rats such luxurious living arrangements would have been considered absurd. And to have given them study rooms, a great room for dining, and providing the ballet mistress with such a fine appointment…Raoul laughed to himself. Perhaps he and the architect would have had a great deal in common.

The women who graced these halls were persons of human origin, worthy of respect, education, and privacy. The mere fact that they'd dedicated their lives to the art, the entertainment of the aristocracy, did not make them lower creatures, and the architect had understood that, or surely he'd not have provided for such in his plans. His only wonder now was why those who had finally built the Opera House had so fully ignored his plans. It was indeed most curious, but perhaps explained why the upper three floors of the Opera House had never been finished, used only for storage of props and such.

Raoul stretched a bit, now fully awake. He could wonder no more, for it mattered little what had been. At least during his lifetime, and at his family's financing, a wrong had been righted, even if not as fully as it should have been. He thought that perhaps now he would bring in his sister, ask her to help make the surroundings a bit more hospitable for females, perhaps in that small way he could sleep better at night knowing he'd done something with his new-found appreciation. There was never anything as effective as submersing oneself in a circumstance to appreciate it more fully.

He sat up, putting his feet on the floor, rubbing at his eyes. Standing, he walked over to the window. The City of Paris was awake, bustling already. He'd have to look at his pocket-watch, for surely they'd slept later than customary, in-part due to the hour they had retired.

He stretched, looking around the room. A vision flashed through his mind, a memory that would have, but would never be. If circumstances had been different, this very room would likely have held his Meg…and Christine. His heart suddenly ached, a deep bitter ache. The pain seized him; tears quickly collecting on the lower rims of his eyes, a sob rising in his chest. He turned back toward the window. He'd not thought about her in a long while, and certainly not she and Meg in the same thought, for he tried consciously, and unconsciously to keep the pair apart in his mind, for each woman deserved her own place in his heart. But how could he help but wonder? That room was closest to Madame Giry's, and surely would have been where she would have placed Christine, and Meg would certainly have been her roommate.

He grabbed at the sill of the window, the tears running down his cheek. Meg would be spared this life…he loved her, and she would be one he had rescued from this life, this pecuniary existence. Meg would be his wife, bare his children, share his life until their final breath….Christine would be a childhood memory, a sweet memory he would keep locked deep within his heart forever, gone but never forgotten. He looked out at the cityscape again wishing, if he could have a wish, that wherever she was at that moment, that whatever obsession had possessed that monster to take her, had also been strong enough that he was treating her with care and tenderness, for he could only assume someone driven as the Phantom had been to possess her…that he had to have loved her…perhaps…Raoul swallowed hard…perhaps as much as he himself had.

His hands rose to his face, wiping away the moisture that had freely flowed down his cheek. Pressing his eyes closed, he turned back toward the inner room, his eyes readjusting to the light. It was time to go and embrace his life, to look into the eyes of his future wife, mother-in-law, sister, father, and close friend and confidante Nadir, for one can not alter the past, nor manipulate the future, one could only fully embrace the present. That had been one life lesson his mother had taught him, that his father had never been able to remove. The present was his to make of it what he would, and he chose to embrace it now, for all that it was. He went to the pitcher that had been left for him, pouring the water into the basin, splashing water on his face. Yes…it was time to embrace the day.

XXX

Meg, her mother, and Raoul's sister had been awake for awhile. They'd already consumed a press of coffee, and now sat in their robes in Madame Giry's quarters. Meg was at the dressing table, her mother working the length of her hair so that it could be braided. Raoul's sister sat off to the side on Madame Giry's bed watching.

The trio had found in their laughter over men, over garments, over the very mundane, that a bond was quickly forming. Raoul's sister had always been pleasant, and now to know for certain that they would all be family, gave them cause to relax in one another's company, and it felt as if they'd been in this routine for years. Raoul's sister had never had women in her life that were family since her mother passed, and the thought of it pleased her to no end. She'd admired Madame Giry at a distance for years, and in truth had learned some of her poise by watching the woman herself, so in an odd way, she'd been part of her life many years before, perhaps that explained with what ease they had come into their present circumstance.

"Now Madame Giry, you must tell me, however did you learn to do such things?" Raoul's sister watched as Madame Giry flipped her hands with ease, and without any assistance or even the use of mirror, she twisted and pulled at her own hair twirling it up into an elegant coif, affixing it with a pair of silver picks, a recent gift from a certain friend.

Madame Giry smiled, walking over and touching her hand, "as with all things in this life, practice!" The trio began to laugh again.

"Surely you knew that would be her response," Meg said looking over her shoulder at Raoul's sister. "Practice is my mother's favorite word, next to discipline of course." She smiled at her mother as she walked over to her. Madame Giry took her daughter's brush from her hand and laid it down on the dressing table, turning Meg's head forward as she began to braid her hair.

"Yes, practice, discipline, those are two very important things, no matter what your station in life." She smiled at Meg, and then catching a glimpse of Raoul's sister in the mirror. "Wouldn't you agree?" she said smiling at her.

Raoul's sister returned the affections, "of course Madame Giry, but of course." The three women smiled at one another as a comfortable silence fell over them until the last strands of Meg's hair were tucked into her braid. "There you are my dear. Now we best see to getting you dressed!" Meg rose, walking over to the contents of her trunk that had been laid out for her.

"Which to choose…hmmm.." Meg pondered.

Madame Giry walked over to Raoul's sister, sitting on the edge of the bed next to her. "This has been a revelation for all of us, has it not?"

His sister nodded, "indeed Madame Giry, indeed it has."

Madame Giry reached out her hand placing it over the young woman's hand. "There have been very few in our lives that we have become close to my dear, but now….now that we are destined to be family, it seems that your having to address me as Madame Giry, especially when in private, would seem far too formal." She looked into her eyes, "when we have the luxury of the company of family, would you do me the honor of addressing me by my first name, Antoinette?"

Meg tried not to notice, but her breath caught. Never had her mother ever given anyone such privilege. She smiled to herself pretending not to have heard. She busied herself with her garments, but deep inside she felt the warmth grow…they would indeed be family…in every sense of the word, and her mother, would indeed become something of a mother to this young woman, and it pleased Meg…more than she might ever have opportunity to admit.

Raoul's sister blinked, smiling up at Madame Giry, she took her hand into hers, "I would be honored….Antoinette…" she smiled as Madame Giry patted her hand.

Madame Giry bent at the waist, kissing her on the cheek, smiling at her, straightening herself. "Very well then ladies, we've dressing to do and then to breakfast, the coffee has done nothing more than woken my appetite!"

The trio laughed once more. A family breakfast in the great room, how wonderful a thing it would be. Then there would be the certainty of the arrival of more books, samples of lace and fabrics. This taking place with ease under the auspices of garments for the new production that was close at hand. It would only be the select few in the confidences that would know the truth. It would be for the wedding of the century. After Dickens funeral, and after the welcoming of Raoul back into Paris as the hero that he was being heralded, then would come the announcement, and then all eyes would be on the planning.

Meg, having selected a garment walked toward the dressing screen, pausing at Raoul's sister's side, smiling she reached out and touched her hand. "Thank you…." She paused, looking into her eyes, "sister..."

Raoul's sister felt a tear grow in her eye. Perhaps in the small confidence of this special bond, she could let her guard down, for a sister, Meg certainly would be. She leaned over embracing Meg.

"The pleasure here is mine dearest Meg, for all of my life I've longed for a sister, and now I shall have one." She leaned back smiling at Meg. She slipped her hand into Meg's. "Now once the engagement has been announced, I have a wonderful seamstress in mind, you will at once admire her work, for it is elegant and beautiful, but it is really her ability to do such work given her circumstances, that you will find truly amazing…." The pair walked off, arm in arm to dress.

XXXXX

Erik laid the book down on his chest. He glanced out toward the curtain fluttering with ease in the gentle breeze. He bent slightly, placing a kiss on Christine's forehead. She was his life, and their children…he'd lay his life down at the feet of the Sultana to protect them.

His mind was swimming. What did this old woman, the author of such words know? What did the books mean? Why had she given them to him, and him alone? He'd pushed through page after page of the first book. Excerpts meant nothing to him. It was weight, and feeding, and crying. The care of a baby; at first he'd thought perhaps it had been Nicole's mother herself, though he doubted it much for no mention was made of such an association. The words she used to describe every manner of note was curt. She'd no compassion for the infant that was described in those pages. Would a mother speak with such little feeling of a soul born of her own womb? No…

He reached out his hand brushing the back of it against Christine's cheek. No, a mother would never speak of her child with such indifference. He stared at her for a long while, then turned his attentions back to the book. Surely he'd missed something…it was the woman's dying wish… He closed his eyes, wandering back to that night…the storm…the blood…the woman's last words to him… He inhaled, a renewed determination set in. He'd promised her, and he was a man of his word. He lifted the book once more and began to read.

21 July Night is brutally hot. Child slept fitfully today in the sweltering.

Erik's eyes scanned page after page of single line entries, each separated by a strange scrolling.

18 August Entering the fourth month today. Survival seems likely. No request or suggestion that other arrangements be made to the contrary of what has been done thus far. Dark hair growing thick. Nourishment easily taken in now.

Erik pushed at a few more pages, and read on.

27 September First teeth broke, three at once no less. Child eager to rise to sitting. Demeanor is quiet but strong. Rolled from stomach to back.

Erik took note of the change in tone. Perhaps it had been at first a child foisted upon the woman, and she'd been obliged to care for the infant. But, it was evident in the words she'd chosen that her interest in the child's survival was growing. He paged through until he'd seen something different, a small drawing next to the an entry, the only bit of color he'd seen in the book thus far. He drew the book closer, it was a tiny holly set of holly leaves, with bright red berries. His eyes roamed to the entry. Certainly this one was special.

24 December The winds have grown cold, and a bit of snow is beginning to arrive. Certain additional funds have been provided for winter. Child is content and sitting in the midst of a swaddle of blankets playing with a toy fashioned in the shape of an animal.  
Oddly quiet child, perhaps is part of the condition. Sad that on the eve of such a holy day that mother and child are separated, but then again, none expected its survival. Will stay up with child until the break of midnight to greet Christmas properly. Child seems to be comfortable with reverse sleeping patterns...almost seems to be natured for it.

Erik closed the book, and laid it aside. His eyes roamed the ceiling, child and cherub at play, guarded by a great guild of angels in each corner. He began to wonder. What would have separated child from mother? And what odd description of a young child, that whatever sleeping arrangements they had, it seemed to tolerate. His brows furrowed, and then a look of recognition crossed his face. "Yes of course," he said under his breath, "the mother had left this world upon the birth of the child! It was the only rational explanation. He sighed, but why the journals…why the secrecy…but more importantly…why he? Why had she not entrusted them to someone else, or no one at all, for surely none would be able to calculate nor soon understand of what she wrote.

XXXXX

Erphan tried to smile at that beautiful face, though his head pounded as if he'd a hundred drummers inside it all competing for dominance. Through the din of the thrumming in his head he fought to focus on her face. Everything else was a blur to him, but he knew from the pain he was yet alive, though gazing upon her smiling down at him…holding him, would have convinced him that he'd already arrived in heaven. There was a strange pink glow in the room, and he'd no idea what time of day it was, or how long he'd slept. The light was news of certain morning, and the gentle touch of her hand slowly flowing over his forehead and into his hair was affirmation that he'd lived to see it.

"Erphan?" Misty's gentle coaxing was not without fruit, as he turned his head to look into her eyes. She smiled at him, taking one of his hands into hers. "Erphan…can you hear me?" She looked down into his eyes. The white was red and spidered, the remainder looked strained and fogged. Being struck by such a force was certain to have consequences, but of what sort and their duration was always a mystery.

Misty's hand continued to reassure him that she was there for him. Erphan inhaled again sharply, a forced bit of utterance rising from him.. "Misty…"

She smiled, an eager look of anticipation on her face. He was awake, his eyes seemed to dance….and….he'd said her name…. She ran her hand across his forehead. "Now relax, let me tell you a story…" she began. Misty filled the next hours with every story she could recall that the two of them had shared. He felt like he'd finally come home…the only home he'd ever really known, in the comfort of her affections, and he was content to stay there, no matter what it cost him.

XXXXX

The shopkeeper was decidedly quiet as he ran through his normal morning routine. He'd found himself quite out of sorts. He'd get the shop ready, excuse himself, and find his way quickly to the undertaker's. He wished he'd never gone there, but what was done was done, and it had to be seen through now. He went through the motions of his work, though his mind wandered time-after-time through the events of the hours previous. Who was that man that lay dead in the barn in the winter house of Monsieur Courtland? He'd strange garments, and his mass alone was intimidating, he could only imagine his presence should he have encountered him erect. He couldn't help but wonder what had felled him, why he'd been left there, and what was his business on that property when surely it was not occupied.

He hurried along, his wife looking at him curiously as if to inquire, but he'd said nothing, would say nothing…to anyone. He'd heard spoken of this new undertaker that he was the epitome of discretion, and he was very soon to take this man into his confidences. He finished his work, and made his way to the door, cloak in hand he looked over his shoulder, giving his wife a knowing glance. He would return, and explain everything, but for now, she was simply to trust him…and cover for him, lest anyone come seeking him.

The last time he'd required as much of her had been when he'd gone to look in on a shipment that Pyotr and Sebastian had been curious about. Though she knew it was not that concern that sent him out this morning, for they'd not been seen or heard of for some time. Just as well, they added an element to Chauesser that had not been missed since their departure. They had been like two goslings in a yard full of ducks, birds true, but certainly not of the same feather.

XXXX

Nicole stirred just slightly, hearing the door to the outer room close. She sat straight up in bed, blinking fiercely. Her heart pounded, her mind raced, in her half-sleep she had to find her surroundings, but it was the warmth of a gentle hand on her shoulder that reminded her of where she was…and who she was… She smiled, her hand rising to her cheek in a blush. She felt the bed beneath her move as he rose to embrace her back, wrapping his arms fully around her. John Paul placed a delicate kiss on her shoulder, gently pulling her back down into a warm embrace. She nestled her cheek against his neck.

"Good morning," he said to her, kissing her forehead as he drew her even closer to him. "What shall we do today?" John Paul said, running his hand lightly up and down her exposed arm.

Nicole smiled, closing her eyes, she hadn't a care or preference, as long as they were together. She drew his hand to her lips kissing the palm. "I think we should partake of the breakfast I'm certain that was just delivered," Nicole smiled, knowing full well that Kathryn had taken that liberty. "Then…" she smiled, turning herself so that she may look into the eyes of the man that was now fully her husband, "then, I say we do nothing…absolutely nothing at all…" she reached up kissing him tenderly. They'd begun just months ago utter strangers, had grown into friends out of mutual need, had come to know each other by caring for her mother, but it was one night, and one night alone that had given both what their hearts had sought, and now they were joined forevermore, to love and to cherish until death parted them.

XXXX

Nadir woke with a start. His normal routine had been so altered that he'd nearly forgotten where he was. He stretched, yawning loudly. There was much to do this day, and he'd need to see to it. He'd the tribute to have approved for Dickens, he'd Raoul and Meg to attend to, and the last of Sara's estate to settle so that the building might be sold to a couple eager to make a café of it before the Opera Populaire opened again. He spun himself around in the bed, his feet resting on the floor, rubbing at his eyes. He glanced toward the door, his eyes instinctively going to the one thing that was out of place in the picture he'd remembered. There on the floor, just inside the door was a flat white envelope.

"What's this?" he said as he stood walking over to retrieve it. He picked up the dozen or so sheets of parchment, turning over the first to read it. Inscribed in the corner of it was a note; "Items of consequence in Dickens life; a humble contribution to your work sir." Nadir cocked his head. He returned to the bedside and sat down. Moving his thumb quickly beneath the wax seal, releasing it. He turned the pages open and began to read.

XXXX

Lucien slept soundly in his quarters. Something about delivering that bit of dialogue to Nadir had proven to be a sleep agent, he now resting easily as his body had bid him. He'd shared much with Nadir in ways that only he, and few others knew. If none other than Nadir knew of his contributions it was enough. To see it as part of the tribute in the Opera House would be all the reward he needed. He was quite accustomed to surviving the lack of accolades, his affirmations normally came from the words he overheard of the man who wrote for the "other" side of things.

XXXX

The Sultana had finished her breakfast and paced the room down and back and down and back. She waited now. She'd not be able to leave that god-forsaken place until the men returned. She needed to know the whereabouts of all she sought. She had to know if they'd recovered the painting, if justice had been meted out with Sebastian and Potyr. She wondered about Abbas…he was no doubt her favorite, and she rather looked forward to his return. Malden was not much for company, a barely adequate conversationalist, and as interesting as stale bread.

XXXX

The pair of men had sat quietly just off in the woods beyond the winter house. They'd waited a long while since the last man had left on a horse. The hour grew late, and they'd still not seen so much as one movement to or from the carriage house. There was little left to do now but to casually stroll up to the house and check. Abbas should have returned hours ago, and they'd in fact seen his horse not long before.

The first of them crossed the open field. Having raised no more than a few flies that were sitting in the warming sun, the second decided to follow. They moved quickly into the carriage house, drawing the door closed behind them. The sudden rush of flies, told them what they feared to know. The first striking a match lighting the lantern in his hand. They both gasped, for at their feet was their greatest fear come true. Abbas lay stiff and dead on the cold ground. What they would do now was up to them, either way the Sultana would not be pleased. Bearing the news or the body mattered little, it would be viewed as a failure, and they'd likely come to grieve for it.


	220. The Spark That Changes Everything

Chapter 220 The Spark That Changes Everything 

Dear Faithfuls:

A little longer chapter! I tried to update last week but every time I tried, the system went down. Don't know why. Anyway, you will sense a change is in the wind…and I hope you will like it! Have a wonderful week!

Christine began to moan in her sleep; at first nearly silently, then a small utterance breeched her lips, an auditory groan falling out into the air.

Erik laid the book down, wiping at his cheek, he slid his arms around Christine. His hand smoothing over her stomach. He'd no doubt she was uncomfortable, hungry perhaps. The meal he'd brought from the kitchen was now unsuitable for her to consume, for what should be hot had cooled, and what should be chilled was now warm. She'd need of nourishment, but he was torn. Disturb her slumber, make her dress and go to the dining room to eat, so she might stretch her legs a bit before they'd travel? Or should he retrieve yet another tray? He slid in as close to Christine as he could, his cheek nestled in against her neck, his lips caressing it. He took her into his arms. He would wake her and allow her to decide for herself. The meal would be their last at Courtland Manor for a time, just until he was certain the Sultana posed them no threat.

XXX

The men had taken little time to decide what should be done. They'd set about emptying what little fuel they could from the lamps, tucking hay and every manner of dry tinder they could lay their hands upon under Abbas. They'd plenty of experience doing such things…as henchmen for the Sultana…this was of little trouble to them. It took less than an hour's time to arrange things so that the outcome would be certain.

Soon they found themselves outside once more, the first going to their mounts and making them ready for a swift departure. The second looked about and then struck the first of several matches, carefully positioning them precisely so as to assure success. It took minutes only really to watch as the flames inside the structure grew. It would not take long for the entire structure to burn to the ground, and everything in it be nothing more than ash and cinder. True bone would give some trouble to disguise the real purpose for the fire, but they'd no worry of that. Abbas was not known in these parts, and none would have known from whence he came. It was fool-proof, and expedient.

They'd return to the Sultana with the news and Abbas scarf and neck chain, sure proof of what they said, for he'd not have given them up unless he was dead…they'd been gifts from the Sultana herself.

XXXX

The shopkeeper was out the door, on his way to the undertaker's. He'd really no idea how to broach the subject with this man, he had barely met him the day before, but he was after-all now the senior, the master, and he'd have to address him, and not the apprentice whom he'd known for as many years as he'd lived in Chauesser. His mind raced. What had been the connection, what had this Monsieur Courtland done that such treachery followed him. He was certain that the honorable man he'd come to know was incapable of such debauchery…but perhaps even one as seasoned as he was could be fooled by smooth countenance and subtle flattery of confidences. It took minutes only and his knuckles were wrapping against the freshly painted door to the office. It was oddly quiet inside. By this hour the office was usually open, a fresh coffee brewing could oft be perceived before one even finished ascending the walkway. He sighed, that was under the reign, if you will, of the previous undertaker…a sickening though really that one would be beckoned to a mortuary by such a scent.

He stood outside, resisting the urge to put his hands together to shield the sun so as to peer within the window. He'd no choice but to be patient…he needed the man's services, even if it were a less than convenient time.

He wrapped several more times, and had nearly decided to take rest on the bench and wait, when the door opened.

"Sir?" said a sleepy voice of the large man, his hand outstretched to the shopkeeper. "Do come in, I apologize, I was up until a rather late hour, and my apprentice has been sent out on some errands. Come in, come in, I'll see to some coffee."

The shopkeeper looked around a bit, and made his way inside. He wanted to be discreet.

Perdue was yet to be familiar with the surroundings. All the utensils had been left by the previous undertaker, as they were the property of the business itself, Lady C had made point to mention that fact to the previous occupant as he packed to vacate. "Now let me see, I know that there is…"

The shopkeeper rose going to the man's side, "if you will allow me sir," he'd no need of coffee himself, but he knew the man would especially after what he'd be telling him, and he'd not deprive him of this one comfort before they left.

Perdue nodded, and sighed, "perhaps a bit of assistance would be in order here." He smiled, going at least to fetch the water. Of that much he was certain.

The shopkeeper filled the grounds into the bottom of the press, and set the kettle on to boil. It would be a few minutes until the water was hot enough, and a few more until the coffee had steeped enough to press. It was precisely enough time for him to relay all he'd seen at the winter house, and perhaps a bit of history for this man of mystery whom death seemed to follow…even if at a distance.

"Here, come sit," Perdue said as he motioned toward a pair of chairs near the window. "What is it that causes a keeper to be away from his shop at such a busy hour of the day?"

The shopkeeper looked over at the pot, steam had just barely begun to rise. He swallowed. Where to begin…and so he just started at the beginning.

Perdue, pushed hard on the spindle of the press of coffee, so as to extract every drop of brew from it. He reached out filling first the shopkeeper's cup, and then his own. He sat back, lifting the cup to his lips. He shook his head. He'd thought coming to such a small peaceful town he'd escape such treachery…the likes of which were all but commonplace in Paris…but oh how wrong he'd been. He sat forward, setting the cup down.

"And you've not seen the man…the dead man before, not even as a passing traveler?"

The shopkeeper shook his head to affirm he had not. "I see every traveler that passes through Chauesser, for one thing they all have in common is the need for some supply or another before they embark on the next leg of their journey. And surely, a man the size of this one, would have been unforgettable."

Perdue nodded his head, of course, what the man said was true. None in a village, hamlet, or city knew more than the shopkeepers. "And what of this Monsieur Courtland…what know you of him?"

The shopkeeper, wiped his hands across his face. "He's only recently taken up residence in Chausser, and then only during the winter months. He's a young wife that is with child, and is a man of considerable means. He's a great love of music, keeps his accounts in order, is not pompous or ostentatious even slightly. He has impeccable manners, and is viewed as something of a noble hero here." The shopkeeper looked down at his shoes. That was all he really knew of him, no past…

"And what of his wealth, how does he come by it, has that ever been mentioned? Is he of a wealthy family? Does he conduct business that would attribute to his holdings?"

The shopkeeper had never seen evidence of any sort of work, nor was the family name familiar. "No," he replied disappointedly. "I know not of such things. I can only speak for the interactions I've had with the man and his protégés. There's a man, Nadir, with whom I've had a number of dealings on his behalf…"

Perdue's head nearly snapped, "what did you call the man?" His brow furrowed. It was an uncommon name, and even more so in this part of the world.

The shopkeeper looked up at him strangely. "Nadir, he is a Persian man, at least I believe him to be Persian, his name, his manner of speech…" a look of strained recognition washed over him, his eyes grew wide. "You know of him?" his eyes growing wider as Perdue nodded.

"Yes, I know him." Perdue looked down at his feet, rubbing at his chin. How small the world really was. His mind raced, so this had been the tiny hamlet that the woman had come from. He walked a few steps away, retrieving the press of coffee, refilling both of their cups, opening a tin of biscotti he'd brought with him from Paris. "I shall see to sending the apprentice for breakfast when he returns. "I trust you've not eaten?" he said to the shopkeeper, as he lifted the first from the tin. They'd much to discuss, and much to do before they'd ever venture to the winter house. Of one thing he was certain as an undertaker, bodies that were dead never wandered off, they'd find it just as easily an hour from now as they would if they left immediately. He walked to the door, turning about the sign. The office was closed now for a time, privacy was needed, most certainly.

XXXX

Outside in the stable everything was being readied. "I do not understand." Said JP to the stablemaster. Why if we are making the carriage ready will we also take his steed, and this one who is barely of size and strength."

The stablemaster sighed. "It is your youth that blinds you young man. When you are older you shall learn not to question the requests of those whom you serve. He is a fair and generous man. If he'd want you to dress every pony in the barn with plumes and scarlet show saddles, you should do it without question. It is not out place to question but to serve. If he wants carriage and mount, then that is what he shall have." The carriage master walked away, going to retrieve the saddle for the smaller horse. He was stronger than his size might have shown. It was spirited true, but under the hands of the master, he minded well. He'd never seen a man who could calm an animal as he could merely by rubbing at its temples and running his hands along the neck.

He pulled the last of the straps into place, fastening them securely. He'd water and feed them and all would be ready for their departure to Paris.

XXXX

Christine felt her neck bend back slightly and her body rise from the bed she'd been resting on. She'd thought it to be a dream. She was moving she could sense it. She drew in a deep breath, struggling to open her eyes. She could hear a heart beat that was not her own. She smiled as she fully realized where she was. She was in Erik's arms, and he was carrying her. She smiled, nestling her head against his chest. She'd not open her eyes for she cared not where they were going, only that she was in the arms of the man she loved.

Erik rubbed his chin along her forehead, kissing it as he pushed through the door and out onto the walk that led to the garden. His stablemen had already searched the grounds and even now stood watch on the perimeter of Courtland Manor. They'd have one last undisturbed hour there while all was finished for their departure. He smiled as he entered the vine covered tunnel that led to the small sanctuary. He could tell by the rose petals that adorned the walk that all had been readied as he'd requested. He kissed Christine's forehead once more. "Wake my love…" he breathed in her ear.

Christine smiled, the change in temperature, the cool of shadow feeling heavenly on her skin. She opened her eyes, looking up at Erik. The sight of him was breathtaking. His eyes were a steely blue yet warm, his dark hair framing his handsome face, and the beauty of the greenery above him, tiny spots of sun trying to break through the vines of the living ceiling above him. "Erik…I love you…" she said, turning her lips to kiss the edge of his collarbone that was exposed.

Erik smiled down at her, rubbing his chin on her forehead again, "now Christine, we've no time for such things…" he said, his eyes dancing at what she woke in him. He kissed her cheek. She would forever cause rise of his passions for her with but a mere touch of her flesh against his.

Christine blushed, putting her head once more against his chest as they moved into the shelter of the grotto.

Erik carefully sat Christine down on the bench that had been layered with thick bath sheets. Several steaming basins lay off at the side, and pitchers of water just beyond them.

Christine's eyes wandered the contents of the room. "Erik?"

"My love, the doctor has told you that no deep water baths should be had until the children arrive." He smiled, his back turned to her as he dipped the first of the soft clothes into the basin, a lavender water, fragrant and refreshing filling the fibers of it. He began to wring it with his hands. "Christine, do you remember not that many months before when I lay inside the walls of that house, and you cared for me, everyday cared for me?" He began to turn around to face her.

Christine's chest was rising and falling as she nodded, realization of his intentions coming to her.

Erik moved slowly, purposefully toward her, reaching out with the cloth, lifting her hair and sliding the cool damp cloth along the back of her neck, and around to the front of her neck, bending down to place a kiss on her damp flesh.

"Erik…" she gasped.

Erik smiled, even with child his touch caused her skin to tremble at his touch. One could not pretend, not react this way at the will of the mind…it was her soul speaking to his. He smoothed his hand over her cheek. "Christine, you grow more beautiful every day my love." His hand slowly pushing her bed garment from her shoulder, exposing her flesh to him. Carefully he dipped the cloth time after time in the basin, smoothing it over Christine's flesh until he'd finished, wrapping her in a soft white sheet. Moving to her feet, he looked up into her eyes, she was blushing but a look of loving gratitude greeted him. He loved her beyond all reason…and this was the very least he could do for her. Carefully he washed her foot, causing her to laugh as he placed a tender kiss on the sole of it.

"Erik," she laughed, "that tickles my flesh…" she said, trying in futility to pull away, but he held fast.

"Tickles…really…." He smiled mischievously, "it was not that long ago that you tormented me so…" The pair began to laugh.

Christine struggled to sit forward, running her fingers through his dark locks. "Erik you are a wonder to me…how does such passion, such talent, such masculinity, such tenderness exist inside one man?"

Erik lowered her last foot to the ground, having dried it carefully. He rose from his knees and sat next to Christine. "You my love have discovered it, just a surely as Amerigo Vespucci found the Americas, and have conquered me just as Abbas The Great conquered the Uzbek rebels." He smoothed his hand over Christine's shoulder. He smiled at her, kissing her forehead, "history my love, just history of great explorers and conquerors." He tapped the end of her nose. "Now, let me finish…your breakfast will grow warm."

Christine's eyes roamed the grotto…and there it was, off on a small table, a silver platter with domed lids. She smiled, oh he planned for her…oh how he longed to please her, care for her. She smiled up at him as he lowered her back slightly and cushioned it with the draped sheets until her head was free in his hands. He lifted the first pitcher, pouring cool water over her tendrils, letting the water drip to the ground. She closed her eyes, oh what this could be heaven.

Erik smiled, seeing the pleasure in her face; it was but a small comfort he could offer her. For her tasks and burdens were great; at present the work within her womb. His hands working slowly, gently through each curl cleansing and massaging her head, then rinsing from it all trace of soap. A final pitcher of water, a bit of lavender and lemon blended with cool water to refresh her. Just as he finished he tenderly squeezed the dripping water from her hair, and then took up the abundance of her curls into a smaller cloth to dry it, assisting her to rise again to a seated position. He placed a tender kiss on her temple as he finished pressing the water from her hair, before he gently lay the damp tendrils on her skin.

He moved away, putting into a small basket the items he'd used, and then returned to her. "Come my love, you've need for sustenance, it's been hours since you've eaten anything to speak of, you must be famished." He led her the table where a meal awaited her. Seating her it pleased him to no end that she'd not fought him. Indeed this woman had come to trust him, fully trust him with all that she was.

Christine's eyes were wide when he lifted the dome. Sliced strawberries, fruit breads, sliced cheeses, several hard-boiled eggs, all of the things she enjoyed most just now. His attentiveness astounded her…he never seemed to miss anything that pleased her. "Thank you Erik," she said reaching up to run her hand along his jaw as he sat in the chair next to hers.

He leaned down, his lips lightly brushing hers. "It was my pleasure my love…always my pleasure to bring you comfort." He smiled at her, lifting the length of her hair over her bare shoulder. "Eat…" he nodded toward their uncovered plates as they bowed their heads.

Off in the distance not a sound could be heard, nature seemed to quiet in reverence of the couple that shared a precious moment together, their last at peace before the long journey to Paris.

XXX

"Are you sure, there's still a bit of ham?" Misty said to Erphan as he shook his head in polite declination.

"I've eaten all I can, not one more bite could I manage." He smiled at her as he watched her collect the plates, putting everything together on the tray. "Thank you," he said reaching out to touch her hand. He lowered his head as he saw her lip tremble as she looked at him and then quickly looked away. "Thank you for staying with me, for breakfast…" he paused, "for understanding."

Misty inhaled, her eyes blinking rapidly before she turned to look at him. She'd managed a good ruse, for she did not understand. She did not understand why he felt this way, why she felt this way, what had transpired since the sun set on the evening last. Understand? It was the furthest thing from truth that she could imagine, but she'd not disturb his comfort to speak of it. She could say nothing, but instead smiled and nodded in his direction as she left the room with the tray.

Erphan leaned back against the divan. His head still ached terribly, and the blisters forming on his forehead only added to his discomfort. But it was the pain in his heart that grieved him most. If he'd kept knowledge of his love for her to himself, she'd not have such conflict in her eyes. He'd not seen Misty that unsettled before…and he knew it meant that there was more behind her eyes than the friendship he'd first imagined. He smiled. Perhaps his thought of love was not so far fetched, but it was cruel. He knew of her affections for Andre…he'd overheard her speaking of it to one of the other maids. How could he be so selfish? He shook his head, what conflict he'd given himself…to want, and then to punish oneself for wanting. To yearn, and chastise oneself for yearning. What was he to do now? He could not retrieve the affections he'd conveyed her any more than he could dry up the sea that lay on the shores outside, and yet, he could not ask her to sacrifice the future she'd been dreaming of with Andre. He leaned his head back closing his eyes. He'd pray for clarity…for a sign…something…anything to guide him now, for this was territory in which he'd never been.

Misty laid the tray down on the counter, grasping the side of it just trying to breathe. What was this that she was feeling? She was attracted to Andre…in love with Andre…she should not be feeling this…this whatever it was. What was she to do now? Oh how she wished she could talk to Christine…somehow she knew this woman knew of true love, though she probably never knew such conflict, for surely she'd loved her husband from the first, and had never questioned if she was making the right decision. Misty smiled, surely such love and happiness had come with ease, for when she saw them look at one another, it was as if they loved one another…perhaps long before they were even born. Her thoughts were quickly interrupted when the elder maid rushed into the room.

"Oh there you are, here, take this to the carriage house, and make haste, they're to leave within the hour." She moved swiftly back toward the door, her brow beaded with sweat. "I'm sorry dear, how is your charge…how fares Erphan. Monsieur Courtland said you'd been up keeping watch all night." She paused in the porticos.

Misty took the basket from the counter; it was heavy. "Erphan is easing into his wakeful state. He's had a bit to eat now, and should be resting. The lightening strike has drained him…rightfully so." She smiled politely at the old woman, glancing down toward the floor and back up again, pushing behind her ear the hair that had fallen into her face.

The corners of the woman's lips flickered just slightly before her stony expression returned. She'd known Erphan was enamored with Misty, simply by the way he watched her, and his face lit whenever she entered the room where he was. What she had never seen, until that very moment, was Misty blush at the mention of his name. She'd mention nothing of her notice of it, but her heart smiled. Both children deserved happiness, and to see such blossom in front of her eyes, warmed her heart. She smiled, "that is good to hear my dear, give him my regards won't you?" and she departed without waiting for reply.

Misty lifted the basket once more, realization setting in, "mum? Mum?" But she was too late. She walked toward the door. "Who was departing within the hour?" she said under her breath as she walked out the door and toward the carriage house.

XXX

"Thank you, that will be all. Come to collect the dishes in an hour or so." DeChagny shooed the maids out of the great room. The plates lay in a stack, the dishes of food on the table were steaming and awaiting their guests. The cooks had attempted to inquire why so much food for so few, but he'd brushed off their questions, and requested far more plates than would ever be needed, just to add to the distraction. He waited until he could hear their footsteps on the stairs, and slowly he went to the door of the great room and walked quietly to the stairway, looking down to be certain that they'd indeed ventured down to the lower floors. When all was clear he went to his room, retrieving Raoul, then to Madame Giry's quarters to retrieve the ladies. It was mere minutes only before Nadir appeared to join them as they walked in silence toward the great room. The group exchanging smiles with one another.

Raoul made his way to Meg, sliding his hand in hers, squeezing slightly and leaning over to peck her cheek. "Good morning love," he whispered.

Meg blushed, closing her eyes and nodded to him. It was their way, their silent way of conveying love for one another when words could not be exchanged.

The door closed securely behind them, they would be able to enjoy one another's company with ease now, for the room had been designed to keep private matters private, the wall toward the corridor nearly twice as thick as any others. There would be no eavesdropping on what went on behind these doors…that had been the entire point in Erik's design…a safe haven for the women who called the Opera House home. It had been his desire that they should have such.

XXX

Andre rapped quietly on the door to Lady C's bedchamber. He'd returned with reports of the bridge, and that passage now was safe, they could continue on their journey toward Paris. He knew she would be pleased to put a distance between that foreign woman and their small party.

Lady C rose and unlatched the door. Smiling at Andre as he entered. "Pray do tell me that you've brought me good news. The woman has tripped on one of her great skirts and broken her neck at a fall from the stairs!" she said in jest, though inside she'd not have found horror in it should it in fact have been true.

Andre's brow furrowed. He knew she'd not liked the woman, but Lady C's affinity for life was one of many things he admired about her, and to hear her speak of such things was a bit disconcerting. "Yes, I bring you good news, the bridge is dry and able to be crossed. We shall depart after the morning meal. The horses are being fed and readied." He looked at her, the weariness in her face told him she'd not slept at all the night previous for surely she'd not look so done in. "Lady C…this meets with your approval yes?" He walked toward her extending a hand.

"Yes, yes, of course." She'd not really known what she wanted. To see the woman once more, to stare her down, eye to eye….but then confrontation of that sort, especially unprovoked and without cause never came to any good.

Andre looked around as he assisted Lady C to rest in her chair. "Dear lady, you've nothing to worry about here. We've checked ever home and business, surely someone else may have seen him.


	221. Chauesser Was It?

**Chapter 221 Chauesser Was It?**

Dear faithfuls:

I will not be updating next week as I will be out of town supporting a friend as she graduates from the Marines! I will update the last week of June, and promise that it will be worth the wait!

The men stood in the woods, watching as peels of flames moved over the roof edges. Looking at each other and nodded. They'd be on their way now. Moving deeper into the woods, a third horse was likely to draw some attention, especially one with such a royal mount. It was Abbas' horse, and was part of the royal stable; they could no sooner leave it behind than they could have left the building unburned. It was of the rarest equestrian bloodline, and as a steed, its usefulness could not be parted with. It had sired more than a hundred horses, and all but one had remained in the stable until their deaths. It was the Sultana's wish to honor her father's dream of keeping the bloodline pure and accounted for. It had been one of her great distresses that the one stallion had gone missing from the stable, and she'd oft remarked that she hoped it had died along with the thief who'd rode off on it.

The men rode on in silence for nearly half an hour before they stopped, switched saddles, one mounting Abbas' horse, lashing the third horse to make it appear just purchased. None would question a man with a humble horse purchased and in tow.

Feeling now a safe distance, the first man took liberty to speak. "Who do you suppose took Abbas' life?" The first stared at the second, in a bit of disbelief as he rubbed the leather pouch that contained the last of Abbas' possessions.

The second shook his head. "It could not have been the property owner, for the place looked abandoned." He scratched at his chin. "An exchange gone poorly, it only stands to reason that the dealer of art had to have come upon and surprised him, that is the only way that Abbas could have met his present fate, for no fight could any man win against Abbas without such a clear advantage." The second shook his head, the first nodding in agreement.

"It would behoove us, at the next village, to send a post to the prison where the other is held. It will be time to finish that as well." He stared up at the sun that was beginning to warm the air. "It will be a good day for travel. If we've any fortune at all, we will be with the Sultana before the night is over. We shall let her decide hmm?" The man nodded.

"You are right, it is for her to decide. I pity the poor man, for if he's not to give what she wants he shall suffer even greater pains before he's put out of his misery, permanently."

The men nodded at each other in agreement. They'd seen far too much of the Sultana's temper. If the man produced nothing of any consequence, his end would be pitiful.

XXXX

The shopkeeper and undertaker kicked at the sides of their horses as they saw a great cloud growing in the otherwise blue sky. They'd not have far to travel now, and though they could not yet see the winter house fully, they were certain that the origins of such black smoke indeed came from that direction.

"No," the shopkeeper said "not the man's home."

Perdue looked at the shopkeeper. He'd neither seen the home of which he spoke, nor fully understood the man's concern for a man whom he now considered with such great suspicion. If it were a fire, there would be little that they could do, for the fire brigade would never arrive from Chauesser to be of any use to them.

They rounded the last group of trees, and the billows of black smoke came into view. The shopkeeper breathed a small sigh of relief, it was only the stable that was burning, and was of sufficient distance without wind, that the structure would run its course and pose no threat to the home itself. He'd have to send word on to Monsieur Courtland of the loss. He shook his head, unless Monsieur Courtland already knew of it. He could hardly allow himself to think of the man as anything less than a gentleman, but now he'd reason to wonder. A third dead now seemed far too much to be a coincidence.

The closer they came they could see others coming from arriving from neighboring homes, though they were indeed few. There was nothing to be done now, great high peels of flames rose from the roof of the building, and fire and smoke billowed from every window.

The men sat on their horses on a hill, a safe distance from the fire, just watching.

Perdue looked over at the shopkeeper. "To know of any real evidence of the man whom you saw dead on the ground, will be impossible." He nodded toward the burning structure. "A fire such as this will deprive even the bones of any flesh. There will be little more that we can do other than collect the bones and bury them."

The shopkeeper looked at Perdue, pursed his lips and replied, "I shouldn't have waited…" it would be his great lament. He felt torn. Was all this coincidence? Did Monsieur Courtland have enemies, the likes of which would terrify him? Why had three died? What correlation was there? Perhaps all a profoundly sad coincidence, but that line of thought seemed unlikely…one making excuses for the actions of another. He shook his head. Monsieur Courtland did not seem the type. A wife with child, a loyal household, a positive disposition, so sure of himself, so seemingly of royal birth.

"Sir?" Perdue said, pulling the man out of his stupor. "It might behoove us to check the house now. It is unlikely anyone would have remained to be caught, but it would be best to see that the home itself is secure."

The shopkeeper nodded, he couldn't agree more.

XXXX

The meal now finished, DeChagny stood and walked toward the window looking out at the City of Paris. "How very excited everyone will be to embrace you Raoul." He turned, smiling at his son. "A hero is always welcome in a City, but you," he walked over extending his hand and laying it on Raoul's shoulder, "you were already loved before this." He looked his son in the eye, a long serious gaze, "Now you are destined to become a legend spoken of a hundred years from now." He patted his shoulder.

Raoul slid his hand under the table, joining it with Meg's, squeezing it ever so slightly. "That is of little consequence to me father, though I am happy that it pleases you." He smiled at Meg. Glancing over at his sister who was sipping at her cup of tea, he smiled. "I would suppose that you ladies have things to tend to now?" his eyes traveling among Meg, his sister, and Madame Giry.

Meg lowered her head, a smile crossing her face. She'd a wedding to plan…a sister in the making, a father-in-law that had finally accepted her, a mother who was happy…the only thing that could have made that moment more special was having Christine there. If only she'd be able to tell her, share with her…it was the only thing that took just a bit of shine off of that lustrous moment. It was so much like the moments that they'd spent dreaming in the old dormitories of their kings and castles. If only she could see her…if but for a few hours…if only.

XXXXX

Erik helped Christine into the fresh garments that hung from the trellis above. Her swollen abdomen growing a bit more each day was beautiful to him. He bent over placing a kiss on it, rubbing his hand along her flesh up to her neck, pulling her toward him. "I love you Christine." He leaned away looking into her eyes. She smiled at him with all the trust he could imagine a woman ever having for a man. Only a year ago he'd yearned for her…and then she'd thought of him only as an apparition. Today, he could reach out and touch her flesh, see their love growing within her, and look into those eyes. No one could have predicted that future…and for a moment he was thankful…thankful he'd not been able to see the future, for surely he'd have wished away every day of his life knowing what was waiting. And had he not gone on his journey as he had…would he have yet ended in the same place? He thought not. Kissing her once more he lifted her hands and guided her to stand. "We've a journey ahead of us my dear…" he was sad to have to break the happy spell of the moment to tell her they must leave that peaceful place. "We must…"

Christine reached up and ran her hand along Erik's prominent jaw line. "I know my love…I know." She smiled at him, her finger lingering on his chin and then lightly brushing across his lips. "Paris?" she said looking up into his eyes.

Erik blinked. "You knew?"

"Not in my mind my love, but in my heart. It is the only safe place left for us…for surely none would look there." Christine slid her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest.

Erik held her for a moment, and then slowly started to walk with her toward the house. She was far wiser than she'd given herself credit for. He'd seen so much in her before they'd been together, but this…this Christine was all new to him. He was watching as she grew into a wife, a mother, and it…it was as beautiful a thing as he'd ever beheld. This…he was not teaching her…this she was doing…all on her own.

XXXXX

Misty watched through the windowpane of the kitchen that faced the gardens. Monsieur Courtland and Elizabeth were walking toward the house. She sighed. Oh what a love, a great love was theirs. She did not covet it, but rather admired it with wanton affection. Theirs was what she imagined Plato had spoken of in his works. Two halves split apart from one another…destined never to be happy or fulfilled, lest they find one another and become a whole. She ventured it would not have mattered if they'd been paupers. Their love would have been as strong and true as it was now. Fortune and possessions were but window dressings to what really mattered in life. To one blessed with wealth it added sweetness no doubt. But even a life spent searching, scrounging every day to earn their keep, would have been as fulfilling. Their love would have shone as brightly in a small one room abode as in the palatial house and grounds of Courtland Manor. She sighed, just watching them walk. His arms wrapped around her protectively. She looked up at him with such adoration.

Misty turned away from the window, and suddenly it hit her. Andre was Monsieur Courtland…Erphan was the man she'd just been imagining as a less fortunate soul, and yet in both she was utterly happy. She sighed again. Andre had been her first blush, her first real attraction, and she'd no doubt she'd begun to fall in love with him. A life with Andre was certain to be exciting, and of good standing. She blinked, but in the last hours she'd begun to question. Holding Erphan in her arms….his confession…the look in his eye…her worry…what did it mean? She felt suddenly torn, and it startled her. She'd never felt conflict of this sort. She swallowed, smoothing down her apron. She'd go to check on him again. Surely he was sleeping peacefully. She walked toward the door, retying the strings about her waist, tucking in the ends as she passed through the entrance.

"Ahh...uh" she stumbled back a few steps having run headlong into someone, grabbing at them trying to catch her balance, nearly tumbling to the ground. "Pardon me!" She exclaimed, her eyes trying desperately to adjust to the dimmer light of the hallway.

"It is alright, I assure you."

The deep voice, the warm hands as they embraced her and did not let go even though she no longer stumbled, nearly undid her. "Erphan what on earth are you doing up? You…should…." Her voice dropped off as she stood looking up into his eyes. He neither smiled nor frowned, a serious expression on his face as he looked into her eyes. She could not explain, but she'd no desire to pull away, to look away….to think.

"Misty," he said, his voice low and steady. "I remember what I said to you last night." He waited for her reaction. She did not look away, encouraging him to continue. "My intentions were not to confuse you, or make life difficult for you." He looked deeply into her eyes, a serious tone taking over his voice. "It seemed I was staring death in the face…and I could not bear to leave this world without…without having told you." He paused. She'd not looked away, not pulled away, but simply stood before him, her eyes wide yet believing. "I want you to know my feelings are not altered by present circumstances." He swallowed, he needed to say it… "my heart longs for you to know, that no matter what you choose….I will always….forever…love you."

Misty looked down, blinking rapidly trying to stave off the tears that had come without warning. She swallowed, taking in a breath and held it.

His hand moved from the small of her back to her chin, lifting it gently so he might look into her eyes. "My only desire Misty is that you be happy…that you go where your heart leads you." He paused. "No one can make that decision for you, nor shall I influence yours. Listen to your heart." He looked into her eyes, those beautiful eyes, and leaned down placing a tender kiss on her cheek. Slowly he released her as he heard the door from the back gardens opening. Surely Stephan and Elizabeth were returning from their breakfast, and soon they'd be off. He'd listened to the preparations as he'd lay trying to rest. He could only hope now that his services would not be turned away simply because he'd had an unfortunate event the night previous. He wanted to be at Monsieur Courtland's side, as he'd promised, faithful until the end.

XXXXX

He ran his hand mindlessly along Nicole's shoulder. A happy silence had settled over them. Breakfast had been brought to the bedchamber but only half eaten, the tray lay off to the side of the bed, precariously on the table. There was a peace in that place that had not been there for a great many years…the promise of life.

John Paul turned his head, kissing her temple. The courtship had been anything but normal, but the night previous, had removed any doubts in their minds that the attraction had been real, very real.

Nicole's skin tingled. There was so much of life she'd never known, so much she had ignored, pushed aside, wondering if it would ever be hers, and in one night, John Paul had erased every trace of it from her mind and heart. She smiled, closing her eyes taking in the scent of his skin. Somehow intuitively she knew she'd never grow tired of smelling it to her dying breath.

"John Paul…today…could we…" She opened her eyes, feeling his hand move across her collar bone.

"Stay inside, all day?" He smiled looking down at her.

She laughed, "yes, that would be lovely." She'd wanted to ask if they could go for a stroll, so that she might display her ring, cry out to the world of their happiness, but his words were more than wise. Perhaps it was best for them to become comfortable with their togetherness before they shared it with the world. There were truly only a few days when a couple could bask in the glow of new love, and they…they'd just begun to taste the first fruits of it.

XXXXXX

Andre walked the short distance back to his room. He sat down on the edge of his bed, loosening his cravat. He'd change into something more suitable for the journey, and then once more just shy of Paris. While the bridges were restored, he'd no illusion that the water would have washed out many things between there and Paris, and he'd want to be prepared to assist the carriage driver if it were needed. He sighed, rubbing at his eyes. He could sleep in the carriage.

He stood, turning around to lay his waist coat on the bed, and gasped. There in the corner sat the woman. A terrible smile on her face at having surprised him. He reached for his waist belt, but alas it was on the table next to the woman. He stared at her with stern eyes.

She laughed under her breath, repositioning herself. "So tell about this little city of yours…" she smacked her lips… "Chauesser was it?"


	222. On The Edge of Change

Chapter 222 On The Edge of Change 

Dear Faithfuls:

Far too much to explain about my absence, but I am glad to be back. There may be only one chapter a week for awhile. I missed the story, and all of you terribly. Sometimes life throws us a curve ball here and there, and I must say I never saw mine coming; sort of felt like a hail storm. Thank you for your concern, your prayers, and for checking in on the story. Please rest in knowing that as long as I have breath in my lungs, I will not abandon this story. You have been faithful in reading it…I will not betray that trust by not finishing it.

Erik and Christine arrived at edge if the veranda that led into the main house, content and refreshed. Erik gently took Christine's hand in his, his other hand on her back as he assisted her up the stairs and into the house. His requested preparations had been tended to as he could see the carriage being led out into the courtyard. They'd a long journey ahead of them, and he wanted Christine to be as comfortable as the travel would allow. They'd press on, stopping as little as possible. Traveling by night was more dangerous than he liked to be certain, but he feared time was of the essence. He'd rather take his chances in the dark, than to give the Sultana or her men time to find them.

Once inside, they were greeted by Misty and the elder maid who both nodded in acknowledgement. Erik nodded in recognition as they walked past. He led Christine to the stairs, turning her slightly in his arms when they reached the base. "My dear, I've a few details to tend to, if you are feeling comfortable, I will leave you in Misty's capable hands." He held her close, looking for any sign of doubt in her face, but there was none.

Christine rose slightly on her toes, placing a delicate kiss on Erik's jaw. Even now it still made his skin tingle, and the hair on the back of his neck raise slightly when she showed such tenderness. "It will be fine. A lady's details are a lady's affair, Misty and I shall see to the last of them." She looked up into his eyes reassuringly. "I will be fine." She glanced around the room, as if seeing ghosts of what was, and what might have been, a brief look of melancholy overtaking her as she blinked and once more smiled at Erik. "I shall miss this place, but no doubt we shall return here as soon as we are able."

Erik smiled at Christine, pushing the length of her hair over one shoulder as he placed a kiss on her forehead. "You have my word my love. As soon as we are able." He glanced once more into her eyes as Misty came to Christine's side. "Ladies," he nodded, and turned and walked down the hall.

Misty smiled at Elizabeth. "Mum?"

"Yes, let us take care to pack just the essentials. Traveling light I believe will be the order of the day." Christine mounted the stairs, Misty not long behind her. Christine understood what needed to be done, and if Erik was traveling by night, she knew that she needed to be prepared…for anything.

XXXXX

Andre employed his military training, instinctively biting his inner cheek so as not to show any external emotion or fear. He walked casually to the side of his bed and sat down strategically positioning himself to be precisely one long lunge from his waist belt that lay on the table next to the woman. He tried to appear relaxed, yet guarded. "What is that you presume to do sitting in all your state in a man's room who had not invited you?" Andre stared at her, he would not be so easily intimidated by this woman.

She smacked her lips coyly, knowing full well he'd no idea with whom he was dealing. She would humor him and his show of strength, it was a trifle to her. His thought that he had the upperhand might even play advantageously into where it was she was trying to lead him. A sly smirk on her face, she replied, "Oh by all means, I agree, an uninvited woman in the room of a man would raise an eyebrow or two…should it be common knowledge or witnessed," she nearly laughed under her breath, what of his properness, was he a saved man for a marriage yet unmade? She tried to soften her voice. "You've nothing to fear sir, my steward and I are merely traveling in that direction, and would pay the city a visit if it were of some interest." She sounded vaguely sincere. "There are so few cities with any culture in that part of the Country I understand. If your city proves to be worthy of one traveling a bit out of the way, then I should very much like to hear of it.

Andre would not let his guard down. There was something about this woman, a something that was intangible, but just as palpable as if it hung in the air between them…she could not be trusted. "Yes our city is something of our pride," his voice never wavered, "for a country hamlet in France. Surely the likes of one so traveled, so worldly as yourself would find it a disappointing diversion, likely not worth your traveling out of your way to visit." He hoped the sincerity in his tone would discourage her from further pursuit or inquisition. His hopes were quickly dashed when he saw her rubbing her chin, her eyebrow raised in interest.

"So you do not share your, your…" she searched for the word.

"Employer….my employer's opinion?" Andre interjected.

"Yes, your employer's opinion?" She looked at him curiously. She'd always had a taste for foreign gentlemen. Perhaps if he were bored in his current state, she'd offer to allow him to travel on with them when they left.

"Of course I am loyal to her opinions, and would never say otherwise, I've been many years in her faithful service." Andre's tone was firm and direct. "I would suggest that you might find larger cities more worthy of your attentions. They might indeed produce fruit of the variety to which you no doubt have become accustomed."

The Sultana would play along only so long as it benefited her; patience was not among her virtues. She wanted to know of the City. Know why it attracted dealers of art, what it was that made it a place where such a woman as the Lady she'd encountered the day prior would find her home their with such passionate loyalty. There had to be something about it that made it unique. "I see, so you would prefer that I not visit the city then?" She stood, her full height making her seem a bit imposing.

Andre was relieved. Generally when a woman rose she was soon to leave a room, and he could only hope that was her intention. He'd had quite enough of her being in his presence. He closed his eyes for a second, nearly breathing a sigh of relief as he heard the beaded hem of her dress scraping across the floor toward the door. His breath caught in his chest as he heard her pause at the door, securing the latch. He opened his eyes to see her moving toward him, a wicked smile on her face.

XXXXX

DeChagny walked from the window back to Raoul. "I've an office to tend to now. You would do well with a morning of solitude and leave the details of the announcement of your arrival in Paris to me." He smiled at Raoul, and then departed.

Madame Giry too had things to tend to. She'd the remainder of the letters to write to the chorus girls who would soon be taking up residence. She made it a point of writing a personal letter to each girl, whether or not she'd earned a place in her ballet or not. It was the least one could do when they were handling the dreams of another.

"I too must depart. I've a dormitory to fill, and letters to send." She reached down and placed a kiss on Meg's forehead. "I trust the three of you will find something to occupy you for the morning?" She knew that they would, the three young souls now looking out toward the future with such happiness. It was this generations time, a time for them to seek and find the happiness she had felt in her youth.

"Madame Giry, it would be my honor to assist Meg. We can quite easily lose ourselves in conversation of color and fabric, and flowers for a morning!" She was feeling a bit giddy. She'd been so overjoyed at the news from the night previous that she'd barely slept. It would not be long before they could plan out in the open. Oh the teas, the visits to the seamstress, the silk maker, the jewelers….it would be a lovely passage of time until she could finally call Meg family.

Raoul stood, properly as Madame Giry nodded and left the room. He turned to Meg, "if you do not mind at all my dearest Meg, sister, I should like very much to leave the two of you to discuss these matters. I've a few things to tend to myself." Raoul's words were not entirely false. Not matters of business to tend to, but rather the business of settling in his mind that which still plagued him…he was not a hero.

Meg rose, placing her hand on Raoul's shoulder, and a delicate kiss on his cheek. "But of course," she turned smiling at his sister, "we shall have more than enough for conversation, I've much to learn I'm afraid." That statement made both women laugh. An eager student of the higher social graces, and an eager mentor, both would enjoy the experience exquisitely.

Raoul returned Meg's affections, and reached out for his sister's hand. "I am entirely pleased that the two of you have found such fondness in one another's company, for there will be many years ahead of us." They stood in a small circle, holding one another's hand. They were forming a new circle, forging a new family. Siblings and spouses; and soon it would all be formal, but for now it was in the exciting infancy, filled with possibilities. The next months would tell the tale of how the City of Paris would except this new bond.

XXXXX

Erphan lay on the divan. He'd been relegated to resting by Monsieur Courtland, and had not refused the order. His eyes wide open, his mind racing to what he'd just said to Misty. It was true; he did want her to follow her heart, to be happy. Deep within him of course, he wished that she would choose him, by some turn in luck, but he knew of her affections for Andre. He was more than worthy of such a fine woman. Her choice would in the end pull Misty from the household; for serving two households so opposite in nature would not allow for a proper marriage. Misty would leave, no doubt finding service in the same house with Andre.

Erphan sighed. He would find happiness in knowing that she was happy, cared for, loved. One day he would meet another with whom he could be happy, and perhaps the two couples would enjoy one another's company on occasion. He'd not tell anyone of his affections for Misty, and he was fairly certain that she'd tell no one of his professions. It was just as well. He could never offer her the life that she deserved, and he was entirely certain that Andre could.

A wide smile crossed his face as he thought of Misty upstairs helping Elizabeth prepare to depart. She'd spoken with such admiration of Elizabeth's maturity, and how radiant she was in the later part of her confinement. The two weren't friends per se, that wouldn't have been appropriate, but it was obvious they enjoyed the same sort of association that he and Monsieur Courtland did. Perhaps that is why they both felt such loyalty to the couple, and in part, admired them. He sighed, slowly releasing the air from his lungs trying to relax as his eyes fluttered closed. He had to rest his mind, his eyes, his heart. The past twenty-four hours contained more events than they ought to have. Yet somehow he felt more alive than he had in years.

XXXX

Nicole and John Paul, sat robe-clad at the small table in the kitchen near the window. They'd done so a dozen times or more when she'd prepared a lunch for them as they set his household in order, but today was different. Today, they sat there as husband and wife, partners for life. There was so much to say, yet so much that no longer needed to be said. They'd made a commitment, and now questions no longer needed to be answered, and Nicole could begin to set "their house" in order, no longer worrying that it wouldn't be the way a bachelor would prefer it.

John Paul lifted the coffee, refilling Nicole's cup. She smiled in acceptance. "Nicole, I think, perhaps we should spend some time at the mercantile on the morrow." He set the coffee down, supping from his own steaming cup.

Nicole looked over the steam rising from her own as she lowered it from her lips, a bit of inquisitiveness on her face.

John Paul smiled, reaching out his hand to cover hers that laid palm down on the table between them. "My dear, the sparse adornments of this household served my grandfather well, and in truth, they were adequate for me as well." He looked deep into her eyes. "But this house, this place," he said as his eyes roamed the structure, "is no longer mine alone. It shall shelter a family, and as such, this shall not do." He smiled at her patting her hand.

Nicole returned his smile. In truth she'd wanted to add a bit of color, a bit of comfort, but it had neither been her place nor her income that would have allowed for such a thing. Now he was offering. "Perhaps a few things John."

"Good, it is decided then. On the morrow we shall venture out mid-morning to the mercantile. Then perhaps a stroll in the park, and lunch at the tavern?" He knew inside that she had to be anxious to share the news of their marriage, and that those at the tavern were closest to her and would be among the first she would want to tell.

Nicole smiled at him, "it will be entirely lovely." She took another sip from her cup. She wanted to pinch herself…could this be real…or was she dreaming.

XXXXX

Perdue and the shopkeeper ventured toward the winter house. They were certain they'd find the house empty, but there was no guarantee of such. Perdue leaned down slightly lifting a large stick from the ground as he passed it. The shopkeeper glanced at him and looked around for the same.

The two men approached the house slowly. First peering in the windows that were low enough to allow it. Going to the door they found it latched. They stood looking at one another.

"We've little choice really," Perdue said to the shopkeeper. "I am certain to Monsieur Courtland a broken door will seem of little consequence now that his stable is burned to the ground." The shopkeeper nodded in agreement. Without another word the men both lowered their shoulders and with one great thrust rammed the door. It took several attempts before the wood gave way with a loud crack of splintering wood.

Once inside, they began to roam from one room to the next. Everything was as it should be. Furniture covered in white sheets. Cupboards bare. They'd wander the upper floors, but were certain they'd find little there.

Perdue paused at the window that dominated the landing of the stairs overlooking the rear courtyard. He could see neighbors with water pails, and long handled pitchforks trying to knock in the walls and contain the fire. There was little else to be done for the structure now. He sighed, perspiration on his brow from the heat and the exertions. Chauesser had been no less eventful than Paris, and he'd no doubt his stay here would be an adventure instead of a respite. At least he'd been here for his son's wedding. As he watched the effort in futility of those tending to the burning carriage house, he realized that might be the only sense of joy he'd glean from the excursion.

"Perdue?" He heard the shopkeeper's voice calling for him, it sounded strained, what had he found? He turned on his heels and moved toward the voice that beckoned him in earnest.

XXXXX

The two men rode deeper into the woods. They'd venture there a few more hours before returning to the main road. They road in near silence as much in contemplation as in the need for safety. The one thing the Sultana had taught them, and taught them well, is that even the woods have ears if they so chose to.

The man looked down at the steed he road. Inside his callous heart he felt sadness for the animal. In all of its life, it had only had one rider, and that had been Abbas. He knew that even animals mourned the loss of their closest human companion, and this animal would be no different. To whom the beast would go, he did not know. He only hoped that the Sultana, in her anger over learning of the loss of Abbas, would not have the animal put down. She was a volatile, unpredictable creature, and the wisest among them would never underestimate her ability to be irrational and cruel when she felt injured. He patted the horse about the neck as they rode on in silence. They'd find their way there by dark, and then he would know both of their fates.

XXXXX

Sebastian sat in his cell. Yet another day had arrived, he'd woken to find a meager meal placed on the floor outside his cell. He wondered if the man took great pleasure in watching him try to retrieve his food between the bars, and pouring the contents of the cup nearly spilling half of it on the ground not being able to reach it fully with his lips. It was cruel, but Sebastian did not turn down the sustenance for he knew that he had to keep up his strength for when, or if, Pyotr ever returned.

He wiped the gruel from his chin with the soiled sleeve of his shirt. It had been weeks since he'd been given a basin of water with which to bathe, and longer still since he'd had a clean set of clothes. There was little anymore that gave him cause for sanity. He leaned his back against the cold stone wall of his cell. There was nothing to do but wait. He'd been deprived of book and writing instruments several days before; for what purpose he knew not. Perhaps it was simply to add salt to the festering wound of his soul. He'd watched carefully, and the guard had paid his tablet no mind, it lay next to him carelessly discarded on the floor. True, most of what he'd written in it were letters to his family, but if one were perceptive enough, they might very well be able to find information that led them to where he did not want them to go. If Pyotr had not secured or removed their goods, the words of the tablet might very well become akin to a treasure map to anyone inquisitive enough to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

XXXXX

Nadir made his way back to his temporary quarters. He was looking for the dozen or so sheets of parchment that had mysteriously appeared in his room over the course of the night. He read once more with curiosity the note inscribed in the corner; "Items of consequence in Dickens life; a humble contribution to your work sir." Nadir cocked his head. He returned to the bedside and sat down. Turning the pages open he began to read. He was at once struck with what acuity the pages were written, no doubt the document's author was an educated fellow…he paused…or woman, for he knew better than to make assumptions as to the gender, for oft he had been surprised.

Dickens had led an interesting life by any measure. His success had not altered the man, well, perhaps his circumstances and comforts, but that had not changed who he was as a man. Nadir read with eager eyes, things that only someone who'd actually known the man could have possibly been privy to. Who was this person…and why…why had he or she not offered themselves in person to collaborate at the very least? Nadir scratched at his chin, pulling his own work from the drawer in his desk. He'd some changes to make now…for he would include, most certainly, some of the details that would give more color, depth, and interest to that which he'd already constructed about the author's life.


	223. Blind

Chapter 223 Blind

They arrived in the room, Christine pushing open the door just ahead of Misty. She saw the smaller trunk, lid open next to the dressing closet, and a smaller one lay open on the bed for more personal effects. Her eyes roamed the room, hesitantly in regret that they had to leave their sanctuary, and yet with purpose. If there were any reasons that they'd not be back, she wanted to make a mental inventory of the room where their love had grown in so many ways.

Misty respectfully had gone to the closet as quietly as whisper, and was even now retrieving the items that were sure to be considered for packing. She knew Elizabeth needed time to absorb the abruptness of their departure. A woman never longed to leave her home, and most certainly not one closing in on the last months of her confinement. It would be a difficult journey to Paris, and in truth Misty was curious as to its purpose, but she knew her place. Even in such a household as Monsieur Courtland's, one never questioned the intentions of their employer.

She reached in the closet, removing the lightest of Elizabeth's cloaks. It was a beautiful lavender, with the finest trim she had ever seen. Monsieur Courtland had spared no expense to see that Elizabeth was dressed in the finest. It gave her cause to wonder why they never seemed to entertain family or friends, nor oft even ventured out to take in theater or dinner. Her brow twitched just slightly as she carefully folded it, placing it in the bottom of the trunk.

She rose from her kneeling position, standing erect and turned to see Elizabeth standing at the window, her hand unlatching the window, pushing it open slightly to let in the gentle breezes. She slid her hand over her stomach as she peered out taking in the beauty of the forest that lay just beyond. Misty smiled, if she could capture that very moment, freeze it in time, she was certain that Elizabeth was the most beautiful woman with child she had ever bore witness to.

Christine inhaled. She would miss the scent…that heady scent that wafted into the room whenever she opened that window. It had become a favorite part of her day each time she had opportunity to do it. Though she had felt well for most of her pregnancy, there had been a time just a month before, where the sweetness that she now inhaled with adoration had sickened her at the slightest scent of it. She had so enjoyed it all of her life. To her the flowers of summer represented hope; she thought about them during the bleak winter months long after the glittering of Christmas had faded. If the scent of the flowers of summer could permeate one's mind, then one was never truly in the depths of the dark winter months, they were but a thought away from the warmth of spring. She opened her eyes, exhaling and turned around to watch as Elizabeth was silently working to put items in the trunk. She smiled, glancing around the room once more, and then began moving toward her. There was much to do, and she wanted to be prepared within the hour.

"Allow me to help you with that," she said reaching for one of the dresses that Misty had in her hand. She smiled, "and I should like very much to take those two with me as well." Christine nodded toward a pair of dresses she'd not been able to wear in several months. They were among Erik's favorites.

"Mum?" Misty looked at her curiously. They were much too small for her to wear now, and would take up precious space within the smallish trunk that had been selected.

Christine smiled and nodded again, "yes those two." She sensed Misty's confusion. "I am to be prepared for anything Misty. I've no illusion that our time away might not be longer than I would hope. If time should find me delivered in Paris or some other city, I should like very much to have those with me," she paused, "Monsieur Courtland does favor them." She laid the folded garment in the trunk and reached for the first dress as Misty handed it to her.

Misty uttered not a word but carefully removed the second from the hanger and began to carefully fold it. If Elizabeth wished it be so, it would be.

XXXX

Erik made his way back out to the courtyard. JP met him, with a polite nod.

"Monsieur Courtland, we've prepared everything for you…as you instructed." He lowered his voice, leaning in, looking around, and added further, "and the special items are in the lower hold, and one beneath the seat you'll be riding in…as instructed." He leaned back away, adjusting his coat as though they'd exchanged something of insignificant importance. He wished he could ask why such an arsenal was needed for a mere trip to Paris, but he'd learned in spades, it was neither his place nor his business as to why the items were requested.

"You've told no one?" Erik looked at him, a serious tone in his words, a stern gaze in his eye. He'd no wish to alarm anyone, and was certain, knowing the Sultana's methods, that she would leave the house unscathed if she knew he was not present.

"No Monsieur," JP looked at the ground respectfully. He'd given his answer unequivocally.

"Very well then," Erik said, his eyes scanning the grounds cautiously. "You're to see to the last of it, check the grounds, and secure the stables once we've gone." He looked at JP for affirmation.

JP nodded his head. It would be done.

Erik turned slowly, casually back toward the house, his eye warily scanning the horizon. There were several more items he wished to retrieve from within their dwelling. He began to walk toward it. In truth he did not want to retrieve them…he wished he'd never had to lay eyes on them again…that they'd gather dust until one day they were tossed away in the rubbles of the house decayed beyond recognition. They were tools of his former craft, he shuddered, of the former tool he himself had been for the Sultana. Now it seemed fitting that his training by that wicked vial creature, might indeed be her undoing. She'd always told him in the moments of her insidious attempts to seduce him, that she'd revealed her one vulnerability…he'd been the best she'd ever trained. He'd nursed that knowledge in the back of his mind. It was a sadistic form of self-affirmation, but it had carried him through many a dark hour. If he'd not been fit for consumption by the world…perhaps he'd been born to a darker purpose.

He pressed his eyes closed as he walked into the house and down the hall that led to the room…the panel beneath the staircase, the trap door. He stood over it looking down at it, covered in dust and web. His eyes rimmed with tears as he knelt to lift the wood. The hinges screeching in opposition to being disturbed after so long a time. The small ladder led to the lower cavern. Erik lowered himself into it, striking a match he'd taken from his waistcoat. There, beyond the webbing, were the boxes he'd not seen since he'd left Persia, undisturbed as though they had silently, patiently awaited his return in a world where time had no bearing, were moments stood still. He inhaled, exhaling slowly as he made his way toward them reticently. He'd no choice now, the lives of those he loved most could be at stake.

Kneeling before them he withdrew the key sliding it into the rusted lock. It gave way…and there before him lay his past…the one he'd desperately tried to put behind him. He closed his eyes, running his hand over the first of the instruments. Sharp memories flashing like striking lightening in his mind. A casting eerie glow from a past that shadowed his future, tainted his present. He gasped, drawing his hand quickly away, blinking hard to remove the thoughts that threatened to overtake him. He glanced down, his eyes fixing on each piece. How many an unfortunate soul had seen them, and not gone back in the world to speak of their treachery. He sighed once more, then without further deliberation he reached into the box, carefully selecting those items that would prove to be most useful, placing them in the small satchel he'd brought with him, drawing the strings tightly closed. To the untrained eye they would be nothing more than curved and twisted shards and gnarls of steel. To him they were something else entirely. Several minutes time found him back in the hall on his way out to the carriage. He'd tuck them below the seat he would ride…they'd never be beyond his reach….should he need them. An involuntary shudder coursed through his body as he moved in the direction of the carriage that would take them from this peaceful place onto a path unknown. From this sunset to the next, his world, or at least his soul could be altered forever should he fail.

XXX

Raoul sat gazing out of the window in the room he'd temporarily claimed as his home. The hustle and bustle of Paris amazed him. He'd never really studied it, and in truth he wasn't so much now; the thought just happened across his mind. He'd spent nearly a half-hour sitting in the chair, elbow resting on the sill of the window, the framed pane ajar ever so slightly that he might take in the refreshing air, and the sounds. He'd been thinking long and hard about the events that had drawn him and Meg out of seclusion. His eyes closed and he found himself wishing he could be back in the gardens of his grandfather, spending a lazy afternoon reading to Meg and sipping lemonade. He sighed, but alas, they were not to be again…for a long while he was afraid.

He stood, moving toward the door. He wasn't so much thirsty as he was in need of the company of a friend. With Meg and his sister busy discussing details, he would go to find Nadir. There was something about this man that soothed him. If anyone would or could understand this conflict within him, it would be a man of the world that had lived.

XXX

Andre's pulse quickened. The woman's gaze was fixed upon him like a serpent fixes its eyes on it's prey hoping to distract and mesmerize lashing out its tongue, infusing the victim's blood with venom causing it to fall into a listless state before it was consumed whole; its bone and flesh succumbing to the cold, slithering creature whose sole intent was to deprive the target of its life. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck bristle in opposition as she stopped not a meter from him, her hands at her sides, leaning slightly forward, smiling at him.

"Do I make you uncomfortable sir?" Her head dipped slightly her gaze fixed and ensnaring, a slight chuckle escaping her. She leaned closer still, bending at her long cinched waist, placing a hand on the arm rests of Andre's chair.

Andre could feel the anger swelling within him. No woman, save for Misty had been permitted so close to him, but his family, and Lady C. His chest heaved as he stood, pushing the woman aside with the force of his shoulders, turning about as he retrieved his waist belt. Affixing it securely he turned about on his heel to face the woman whose face, he was surprised to see was actually stunned.

"Do you make me uncomfortable?" he huffed with great disdain in his voice, a stern and serious look in his eye. "Your presence in my quarters is unwelcome, whatever your intent. Curiousness as to one's travel plans does not require this type of privacy, nor does it excuse your supposition that entering one's quarters without invitation, and handling oneself in such a brazen way would be very becoming a lady of your apparent stature." Andre looked down as he fastened the last hold on his belt. Glancing seriously up once more at the woman, he walked toward the door and opened it.

The Sultana stood wide-eyed in disbelief…her skin felt hot, the blood beneath the surface beginning to boil. Oh how he would regret his actions if he but knew with whom he was dealing! She lowered her shoulder, taking the corner of her dress into her hand, clenching it tightly in her rage. Her lip trembled as her anger seethed. She walked toward the door, pausing long enough to say in a low serious tone lest anyone overhear, "our paths may one day cross again, and let us hope that you have not so poorly represented your city so as to come to grieve for it!" She brushed him with her shoulder, and was gone.

Andre closed the door behind her, leaning against it as he heard the click of her shoes and the scrape of the beaded hem of her dress running along the floor. He'd no idea the woman's intentions, but whatever they had been, a mere visit to Chausser was not among them. There was something more, much more, and silently he hoped he would never know, that his reaction to her advances had thwarted whatever intent she might have had. He exhaled heavily, leaning away from the door going back to his desk. He and Lady C would soon be on their way and he'd traveling clothes to don.

There was a rap at the door separating his room from Lady C's. He rose to his feet and walked toward it. He had so hoped that the interchange had not deprived Lady C of the rest that she so obviously needed. The stop in that quiet village had been anything but the restful reprieve that he'd hoped for. Had the mud and the rain not deterred them, they'd have been in Paris already.

He opened the door slightly, "Mum?" There was no response. His brow furrowed in wonder, opening the door just a bit more he looked around the room, but there was no one there. "Lady C?" he called out quietly, looking toward the bed. That is when his eye caught it…her foot just slightly protruding from the other side of the bed. He pushed the door open hard and wide, the wood reverberating against the wall as the handle met it with great force. He rushed to her. There she was lying on the floor, cheek against the grain of the wood. He scooped her up into his arms and laid her on the bed. Moving his hand to her lips he could tell she was breathing, however shallow. His hands moving instinctively to embrace her left hand. She had been feeling tired, weak, and now this…he'd have to summon a doctor before they'd venture further.

His thoughts were interrupted by a familiar sound…the click of the heels on the floor, the scuff of the beaded hem scraping along the wood in the corridor just outside. The steps were steady and even as they grew louder, and then they stopped, just outside the door. Andre held his breath as he watched the handle of the door. Standing protectively, his hand hovering above his waist belt instinctively. And then he saw it, the excruciatingly slow turn of the handle. He knew it was locked, but he also knew that if that vial creature was interested in gaining access…a mere lock would not stop her.

XXXXX

Nicole stared deeply into the eyes of the man who was now her husband. Even in his embraces of the night before, she could scarcely allow herself to believe she was anything but dreaming. Her mother had predicted she would marry, raise a family and live happily among a class far beyond the one they'd managed to make for themselves. She closed her eyes allowing the steam from the cup of coffee her husband….her husband…such sweet words they were, had poured for her. "John, I want to…"

John Paul interrupted her, with a compassionate tone, "I know Nicole," reaching out to touch her hand, "I know."

She smiled sweetly into his eyes once more. His perception…his ability to complete her thought astounded her…though she knew it not ought to have. They'd spent a great deal of time in one another's company. She lifted his hand into hers, entwining their fingers.

John Paul leaned down kissing the back of Nicole's hand, his gaze warming as his glance become the more fixed casting of a gaze. Slowly he rose, sliding his arms beneath his bride, lifting her into his arms as he carried her toward their bed chamber. True though it was that a proper fitting honeymoon it was not, nothing could have diminished the love and passion that had ignited once they'd not denied themselves the possibility.

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The seamstress was busy about her work. She'd many garments to prepare with Dickens funeral. All of her finest clients had requested new or altered garments that would be respectful yet representative of the class by the woman who wore them. She'd shook her head after each woman left her. Did they not understand that a funeral, no matter for whom it was held, was not a social gathering, where one might worry for such things. Was a garment of mourning truly meant to be a statement of fashion?

She busied herself since she'd little company as of late, and oh how she wished now, after the long separation that had proceeded his last visit, that he not take so long to return, and that he would bring his wife with him. There was something gentle and genuine about the young woman that gave her a sense of peace. To know that he would be loved, to be cared for, was a dream she'd long held.

She turned from her work, there was yet another knock on the door. She sighed, she'd already had more garments on her bench than she could manage to prepare in time. She shuffled hesitantly toward the door. She'd always be pleasant even if she'd have to decline.

She opened the door and was immediately greeted by the hug of a woman whose embrace she knew instinctively. "What brings you to the door of my shop my dear?" she said stepping aside allowing the woman and a companion inside the door, closing it behind them.

The young woman kissed her cheek. "Not for a garment for myself, but for…"

"Yes, I sensed you'd brought someone with you….a friend perhaps?" She was already warming to the person for whomever the young woman would have brought with her would be well deserving the attention.

The young woman took the hand of her companion and the hand of the seamstress and placed one hand in the other. She inhaled as the two clasped hands. "This my dear is a special occasion," she paused hesitantly before she continued, "the woman whose hand you now hold with be the wife…" she paused as a wide smile crossed her face, looking into the eyes of her companion, "the wife of my brother!"

The seamstress waited not a pause before she took Meg into her arms, gently holding her in a warm embrace. "My dear," she whispered into Meg's ear, "you were long prayed for my dear, long prayed for." Meg leaned her head toward the elder woman's temple. "I am honored to meet you, madame…."

The woman waived off such formalities. "Come ladies come. I've need to be away from my work for a few minutes to rest my eyes and hands." She took the women by the hand leading them down the hallway. Such news needed to be shared in private detail.


	224. Closer and Closer

Chapter 224 Closer and closer

Erik nestled his tools beneath the seat across from the one he would occupy. His hand involuntarily shuddered as his mind flashed to the last time he'd done that very thing…though circumstances were decidedly different on this occasion. Today he would be guarding, protecting the woman he loved, and the promise she held within her womb. The last time he'd done such a thing he was riding across from a woman whose very presence gave him a putrid sour in the very pit of his innards. How very strange a paradox…the last time he'd touched those implements he'd never dreamt that he'd one day wish beyond wish that he'd be using them to fend off the very woman he now protected. Erick made swift work of his hidings and turned toward the carriage door just at the moment that Christine was leaving the house. He stood enamored by her beauty and grace. She was radiant as she entered the last part of her confinement. The love that grew within her shown never so brightly as it did now that her belly was swollen with the evidence of their passions. Oh how he so wished he could spare her any further discomforts of the physical kind, but he knew he could not. Though she appeared delicate and young, she had handled far more than women ten years her senior could ever have managed. She moved with the grace of a trained ballerina toward the carriage; and on toward Paris. She showed not the fear she should have been feeling, but the utter trust as she gazed at Erik, it was so intense his eyes fell toward the ground for a fleeting moment. Oh the love and adoration she held for him was so unwarranted. He looked up…her gaze had not wavered, he was the sole focus of her eyes. She was so filling he knew that he'd walk over the fiery coals of death just to spare her…spare her anything.

Christine walked to Erik's side. Pausing she stood before him, her eyes still locked with his. Her hand slowly rose to his chest and the other gently to his cheek. She blinked, just once, and inhaled. "Erik, we shall go, and I will do whatever you bid me."

Erik's eyes welled slightly as he knew he could not share with her the depth of the danger that lurked in those outer worlds that they would cross…what treachery she might have to bare witness too…and he for now would spare her those details.

"Erik, I love you, I have followed you nearly all of my life…trusted you nearly all of my life. I would follow you to the very gates of hell if that is what is required of me." She paused and inhaled once more. "Let us be gone from this place." She never looked away from him now. "This," she nodded her head back toward the structure she'd just left, "this is but a building made of stone and mortar, glass, and all manner of other things that pass away with fire and time." She reached out for his hand. Taking it and laying it on her abdomen. "This is where home is my dearest Erik." She smiled at him as she stretched to press her soft lips against the side of his cheek, whispering the last words. "And this we take with us wherever we go…right until the last."

Erik slid his arms around her, and though his love grew to the strength of a thousand horses, he held her most tenderly. "I love you my darling Christine…and as God as my witness I shall not let you near the gates of hell…nor they near you."

Carefully he released her as he guided her hand and led her into the carriage. Erik thought to himself as he stared across at Christine…greater love hath no man than this.

Raoul maneuvered the corridors of the Opera House with seemingly new eyes. He'd never much thought about the upper levels, or those who inhabited them. It was as if great fairies appeared from mysterious places, masquerading as ballerinas for each production, and then just as mysteriously the whimsical creatures would disappear into the unknown until their presence was commanded again. These rooms, these newly hewn stairs, the props, all parts of the whole that was put together for the entertainment of those whose station in life allowed them to be observers of the culmination of such efforts, absent the thought of the toil it took to produce it.

His hand slid allowing the railing as he made his way to the lower offices, stair after stair, floor after floor. Once on the main he made his way to the offices, more specifically to the one door where he was certain he would find Nadir. His hand rose to knock on the newly finished wood, and he jumped back just as the door opened.

"Nadir, my good sir, just the man I was hoping to find."

"Raoul, I rather thought you might be enjoying the company of those enchanting women." He chuckled as he slapped Raoul's shoulder, nodding that he should walk with him. "Ah yes the making of such plans is a bit dizzying. Consider yourself blessed that women seem to have a bent for it, taking great pleasure in the finer details of such things." He smiled at Raoul. "How very fortunate it is that all we as gentlemen really need do is to appear at the end of a carefully laid way, awaiting the most beautiful creatures arrival at the end to become our wife!"

Raoul smiled as he followed Nadir. The man walked with purpose toward the back of the Opera House. Having no plans other than to talk with Nadir, Raoul was happy to follow.

Andrea carefully slid around the end of the bed, pulling the cover just slightly up over Lady C. He positioned himself between she and the door as he watched closely to door handle turning first this way and that. The lock held fast even as he heard the woman's hand press against it. Then just as suddenly the handle was released and he heard the footsteps quicken away in the hallway. He moved toward the door. Then he heard another set of footsteps swelling from the other end of the corridor.

Andre sighed. The woman had been frightened off by someone's approach. He turned his attentions once more toward Lady C.

He startled as there was a slight rap at the door. "Mum, I have some tea for you." He heard someone say from the other side.

Andre's voice cracked to his surprise as he spoke, "the lady shan't have need of tea presently, but if you could fetch a basin of cool water, and perhaps the doctor of the house?"

"Straight away sir." The gentle voice replied.

Andre heard her walk away in earnest. Turning back once more to Lady C. She was so pale. It was an odd time of day he thought for her to be beckoning tea, and indeed most often he himself would have been the one to do so for her if she'd had want of it. Then the hair rose on the back of his neck. The nefarious thought entering his mind. What if indeed she'd not called for it…what if it was to be delivered for some other reason…at the request of someone else? He felt the anger rise within him. He was most often the rationale sort, but indeed these last hours had been anything but simple, and no trickery nor treachery could be ruled out…with such a vile creature roaming the house.

The seamstress skipped not a beat in her step as she left Meg and Raoul's sister in the sitting room, and made her way toward the kitchen to brew a pot of tea. The hot water was always on the stove, and the tea would be readied in short order. She called out to the women as she arranged tea cups and lumps of sugar and a plate of biscuits on a tray. "What time of year will be this splendid event?" Certain that such an elaborate occasion would be months in the planning.

Raoul's sister smiled as she looked at Meg whose face was glowing. "It has yet to be determined as to the certain date, but my brother's love doth grow so exponentially, that I dare say he'd marry within the month if circumstances permitted it!"

Meg blushed and glanced down. How true were the words of the woman who would soon be her sister. Raoul indeed would like nothing more than to marry quietly and quickly. But because of society and position, such things would not be possible lest rumor and scandal befall their abbreviated courtship.

The seamstress' brows rose above her eyes. "So soon" she said under her breath. First her beloved young man, and now Raoul married too? She smiled. Such happiness for these young men. What wonder of love. She'd been so focused on the garments for funerals, that this was a happy reprieve from that sentiment.

She poured the water over the tea leaves, and rested the hissing tea ball into its bath. Lifting the tray she made her way to the company of the young women. Smiling as she entered. "What color my dear?"

Meg's head rose in question, "mum?"

The seamstress smiled as she rested the tray on the table between the chairs.

Raoul's sister smiled too. "She's wondering what color you fancy Meg."

Meg laughed a bit nervously. She'd much to learn, but she'd no doubt she'd come to the right place, and was in the company of the right women.


End file.
